"I can't live with it either". That's what she had hastily scrawled on the slip of paper when I questioned why she wanted to come look for the kid with me.
I should've said no.
As we walked out of the gates together into the darkness, I wasn't as worried as maybe I should've been. It would be dangerous. It was late at night. The new group that wore the skin of the dead was out there somewhere, and yeah, the obvious thing, she couldn't hear nothing.
I don't know why I let her come with me. It was stupid, and risky. I always did everything on my own. I didn't want someone else around who needed looking after, but I didn't argue her neither.
This afternoon when I ran out into the cornfield I thought she'd be dead. Ripped up and bitten into, by the dozen walkers that were seeking her out, but she fought, and survived. All while clutching a baby to her chest.
When I found her, she was standing strong, not backing down, and refusing to give up.
The sound of the gates closing behind us brought me back from the memory of this afternoon, and I found myself hoping I didn't make a mistake.