The emptiness was too much to bear. She stared forward into the darkness, hoping to push down all the fears of never finding her family. Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carol, Judith; were they even able to be found? And then there was Daryl. Her heart fluttered, skipped a beat at the thought of him. Daryl. The thought of him kept her going. She had to find him; it wasn't his fault what had happened to her. Would she let them know, the others, what had happened to her? How it changed everything, made her want to die, yet inspired her to fight, to push forward. She could feel the ghosts of hands on her thighs, her hips, and her neck. It made her cringe and want to rip her flesh off.
Don't think of it. She is here now, pay attention to the woods around her. The fire she had started and put out an hour or so ago, still lent her some comfort. She was scared it was going to attract walkers, or any stragglers, but she had needed it, wanted it. She was very sleepy, and decided to climb up in the tree she had scouted. She tied the ropes she had around her legs and thick branch to keep her in place. She positioned her backpack on a nearby branch, ready at hand. Everything was just okay for right now in this moment. If anything were to stumble upon her makeshift camp for the night, hopefully she would know, or they wouldn't notice her up in the tree. She closed her eyes, absolutely exhausted. Her thoughts ran past her. Her daddy's face and words, inspiring her to fight harder, preparing her for the work ahead tomorrow. Then Daryl. Fantasies of him kept her warm. If she could just see his face, feel him, his strong arms around her, steadying her in place. She was close, she could just sense it. Her head lolled to the side as her thoughts finally pushed her over the edge into sleep.
Nightmares plagued her dreams, dripped them in red, swirling them around until her unconscious finally gave up, and forced itself into the tangible. She awoke with a startled cry, eyes instantly shooting open. It wasn't quite light yet, the darkness slowly creeping away, its absence bringing forth an ambiguity of day. The in-between, the unknown. She herself was in-between; between life and death. She often wondered about her existence. Was she real? Maybe she had never made it out of the run down shack. Her body, rotting away, giving way to the earth. It would be easier that way honestly, she thought. She had been on the road by herself for quite awhile now. A month, maybe two? Time got lost out here; her mind constantly wondering or painfully acute with adrenaline. Either way, she just kept walking, kept going. She hadn't come across more than four or five walkers at a time. She had become very good at recognizing the patterns of their drunken like movements, the dizzying, zig-zag patterns of feet. Often times, when she would accidentally stumble upon a few, they would be completely still. Her presence would awaken them, but gave her a chance to react and scope the situation out. If it were two, she could easily take them out with precise movements from her trusty blade. If there were more, she ran like hell.
She had honed in her tracking skills now. Daryl had taught her well. She was constantly thankful of her time with him. She had worked him up in her head as some sort of savior, his being kept her going. He was her angel, the little voice in the back of her mind, whispering on how to survive. She had to find them. She really had no idea where exactly she was, just a vague, general idea. Constantly, she searched for anything to give clues to their whereabouts. So far, she came across many abandoned camp sites, long forgotten, where she could maybe scavenge some useful things if she were lucky. Often she found signs left for loved ones, with little messages telling them to go this way or that, or just simply that they had been loved. They always made Beth feel mournful, and heavyhearted. None were ever for her. The silence of everything was deafening. She hadn't come across anyone, even scavenging through empty random houses or following the skeletons of roads for miles on end. The absence of everything left her feeling empty and reeling. Push forward, keep moving, ignore the constant tear and throb of muscles. She found pleasure in the burn of her muscles though, it was the only feeling she had that made her feel real, like she was actually alive.
She untied the rope keeping her connected to the tree, and slowly climbed down, landing quietly upon the ground. No interruptions last night, hadn't been for awhile. It was gradually getting colder and her worn sweater would soon not be enough. She would have to find a secure location, a house, something to hole up in for the winter if she didn't find anyone in time. She swallowed the panic roughly down her throat, the emotion flooding down her spine, rotting away in her stomach. All alone, all winter. She released a sigh and took a deep breath. Her head fell forward into her hands uncontrollably. She wanted to find them so bad; she could physically feel the pain from it. Allowing herself a moment to give in to her sorrow, she finally got her few possessions together, took a sip of the water canteen she carried, and took off south.
The day was unusually warm and beautiful, and it sent her into a calm, steady forward motion. The morning sun shone gracefully through the trees, the rays nuzzling the soft ground of the woods below her. She played with the patterns in her mind, how they reminded her of lazy days spent on the farm. How the light would come through her bedroom window so softly while she read or wrote in her diary; how the light would slip through the cracks of the barn, glistening off the horses and illuminating the hay like they were mounds of gold. That was all gone now, and her heart felt heavy from all the memories. No need to focus on it now, it was all gone. Everything was gone. She couldn't give up though, couldn't lie down and cry over everything she had lost. Maggie wouldn't, Daryl wouldn't, so she sure in hell wasn't going to.
A rumble from her stomach sent her next objective towards getting some food. Anything she could find she would take. Sometimes, she ate berries, or an apple, or her favorite, a soft, sweet peach. But, with the coming winter, and the weather steadily getting chillier, she knew that they would no longer be an option anymore. She stayed clear of any areas she knew would be over populated with walkers. Didn't want to take any risks and get caught up with something she couldn't handle, whether it was a herd of walkers or just survivors looking to take advantage of her. She kept to the woods, back roads, and isolated buildings, finding whatever she needed there. For now, she kept moving forward. The plan to find food was cut short when she noticed some tracks coming across her own. They were heavy-footed and in a straight line. This was no walker. She could make out faint boot prints into the ground, larger than an average woman's would be. She wouldn't have even noticed it, except for the heaviest, most distinct footprint had come directly across her own path.
Was this a sign? Her intuition was telling her to follow these prints into the unknown. They looked fresh, at least within the last few hours. She followed her intuition and turned left, heading east. She stayed off to the right of the tracks, paying attention to the pattern of leaves scattered so she could follow the trail accurately. Her imagination was running wild. Who could these tracks belong to? Praying they were Daryl's, Rick's, or Glenn's; anyone from her family. She decided she would be stealthy. Stay back, watch, wait, be patient, see who this was before they could see her. If it wasn't someone she knew, well, she would burn that bridge when she came to it.
