I am so sorry to those who read this in it's original format, I have decided to make major revisions to the story so that it works more within the realm of a horror/romance. I hope you can forgive me, and I hope that the changes I make will push the story in a better direction. I thank you all for your patience and the kind words thus far. 3
Winter was closing in all around them, lending the world a particular dryness, one that left the ground always crunching underfoot, and a cold air that seemed to suck the moisture right out of the lungs. Michonne often awoke in the middle of the night with her throat completely sore and her lips cracked and bleeding. The only thing she felt she could be thankful for with this weather was that the brittle twigs and leaves often helped in alerting her of approaching walkers.
Michonne got up to her feet, scanning their little camp as she rummaged for a bottle of water.
She stared into the darkness and her eyes trailed the place where she knew Rick and Carl were asleep. She couldn't see clearly, but she imagined that Rick had probably curled himself around his son over the course of the night, as every morning she found Rick soundly asleep with his arm around Carl. Sometimes she saw Carl throw his father's arm aside when he woke up, other times he would lay there with his eyes turned towards the sky, leaving the arm curled about his chest. None of these moments ever lasted long enough, though, the snap of a twig, or distant cry would jolt each member awake, and the stillness would dissipate into fear and adrenaline.
Finally, Michonne's hand connected with a plastic bottle, she fumbled with the cap, carefully making sure not to spill a drop of water. She took a small sip, knowing it wouldn't be enough to stop the burning in the back of her throat.
Her fingers gingerly toyed with the cap of the bottle, and she looked away from the sleeping forms. The darkness would last maybe another hour, or so, shouldering her katana Michonne stepped out of the boundary of the camp.
She told herself she was simply checking the perimeter where they'd set up traps for game, as well as barriers for walkers. It was difficult being quiet but Michonne managed to step lightly enough that Rick and Carl stayed soundly asleep. She concentrated on her movements, every muscle in her body moved purposefully and carefully. In her minds-eye she conjured the daylight landscape of her surroundings, about 20 meters to her right there would be a rabbit trap, and a couple of feet farther there would be a trip wire that Carl had set up by himself only 8 hours ago. There were six other traps within the circumscribed area of the trip wire.
Shivering against a light wind Michonne began to slowly make her way towards the trap. She strained her ears to hear if there was any movement, but she heard nothing. The night would soon lift, and her eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out the outline of the trees that surrounded her but she couldn't discern the forest floor from the trap Rick had set, so she began feeling the ground careful not to set off the trap. She was kneeling, and her hand connected with a mound of wet leaves. Michonne felt further and her hand was suddenly bathed in a warmth and wetness, and fur. Her eyes widened and panic set in as she realized in horror that her hand was probing the remains of a freshly eaten rabbit.
It was odd, she could neither hear or see any walkers, she twisted her head in either direction, and was given no satisfaction as to where the threat lay. Her stomach dropped as she ran back to Rick and Carl…