Sometimes Beth wished she had the chance to somehow transport back in time to change the cruel sequence of events that robbed her of her family. Sure, there was nothing she could actually do to make that happen, but it did not hurt to think about it.
Using her hand to cover her journal, she sighed softly while she stared across the endless space of black sky that was alive with the sound of crickets and other insects. Hearing their harmonious song brought back memories of the farm, especially the warm southern nights she and her family would sip iced tea.
Now all she had were the memories of the farm...and the prison that she last considered to be her home. Both of those places went up in flames because of the evil in the world.
"What are you doin'?" Daryl asked, plopping down beside her with a fresh kill slung around his neck.
"Writin.'"
"In that stupid book?" Daryl prompted, shifting his gaze to the book she hardly took out of her bag.
Beth shrugged, picking at something on her nails. Even though Daryl could be an insufferable downer most of the time, he was not bad for company when he was in the mood for it. Visions of their last fight dogged her mind, no matter how much time passed.
"It helps."
"Why?"
"Because it just does. You know, I remember one night my dad played us this recordin' of crickets and what they sounded like slowed down-" Beth stopped herself, trying to halt the tears before they came.
"And?" Daryl hedged when she did not respond. "Did they sound like they were dyin'?"
Beth smiled at his comment, some of her mood lifting with the oddly placed good timing Daryl had. He was one of the most frustrating people to get along with, but he seemed sensitive enough to understand her pain.
"Beautiful. They sounded beautiful. Like, how I imagine it would be like to get into Heaven with the angels."
Beth had a vague understanding of Daryl's take on religion and an afterlife, and so she did not push it when he did not offer much commentary on her cricket story. The memory itself was hope to her, and hope was all she had to keep her going. Sparing a look beyond into the field, her stomach twisted when she spotted the walkers coming.
Fighting them had become like second nature to her after doing it enough with Daryl after the prison. Reaching for her knife, but not moving from her spot, she jumped a little when Daryl took her hand. He was far from the touchy-feely kind of guy, but more and more she saw his walls start to come down.
"I don't know if I believe in that kind of stuff," Daryl started. " But if there is a Heaven somewhere, you'd be there singin' with them angels."