FALL

That had been one hell of a fire.

She remembered, like it was yesterday. The latest events had "broken" the group, tears and bloodshed and mayhem all over the place. Carol had been in the depths of despair, her "lost" baby girl on whom were conducted too many search missions, and some suicidal ones at that, had been under their noses for all the time. How could she forget the affliction in her screams, the urge to caress her daughter, now stepping out of the barn full of them and standing before the world, her little body rotting and bruised and scattered, her eyes pale and her teeth missing? Daryl and the others had been there for her, but all she could do was stare, mouth agape, as Rick put the girl out of her misery as an act of mercy. Oh, Rick. With a beloved friend, Shane, gone, Rick had been devastated, just like the rest of the kin. Bet the whiteness and brightness of long gone's turned eyes were still haunting him in his dreams, and every time he closed his blue eyes. Good Lord, Dale. The moral of the group, the symbol of the last part of dignity and humanity left. A father, to her eyes, to everyone's eyes. Gone. Ripped apart fatally from his intestines, to his abdomen, by a single, harmless walker first spotted by Carl. It had been Daryl who ended his misery and suffocating, a Smith & Wesson to the head, clean shot, no mess, just revival and bliss. Then, realization, salty tears and collapsing.

He didn't talk to anybody for a week.

She wished she had been there for him as well. She didn't blame him. She didn't blame anyone, couldn't, so to say. Loss had always been the demon chasing her.

Too many casualties, too many hearts broken, too many families shattered, too many bullets wasted, crops burned, land overrun. She took all-nighters, praying for the safety and prosperity of her brother. He was the only one left in this hellhole that kept her holding on, made her endure, survive. Without him, it would all come tumbling down, like those dominoes.

As if it hasn't already.

And, a far worse aspect of the deep shit they were in, was the fact that everyone, with or without any walker interaction, turned. Apparently, it had something with the bacteria in the air, an epidemic, an airborne disease, in other words. She could understand why Rick had kept this depressing fact from the squad; for their comfort zones to stay a little wider, for them to keep their calm. Of course, a few shocked expressions were given upon acknowledging, but with so much pain going through their tortured souls, the reaction had been minimal. Not the mention the tired stares and and legs gone limp from walking for hours in the forest, now forced take refuge as a result of the lack of gas.

There they were, on the ground and plain sight for everyone to look, but for certain eyes to see. A nice little deer's humble tracks on the soft, moist soil, canvased by fallen, velvet leaves. Food, that meant. Probably enough food to last them a couple of nights, which was a huge advantage regarding the conditions. Hunt or be hunted. That's how it all rolled then. Take action or face the dire consequences. This hellhole would suck in the weak, and leading the strong onward. Survival of the fucking fittest. Who'd want to die on a little road of hunger when there are cute zombies to do that for you?
They had to get the dainty little deer.

They persecuted the gradually thickening tracks, her acquaintance taking the lead, his arms and muscles all around his figure tense, holding the deadly and loaded crossbow firmer than ever. Sighing, she adhered to the redneck, reaching back and grabbing a bolt from her stash, and loading her beloved weapon. "You hear that?" her companion whispered, his eyes gazing around, ears listening closely and mouth slightly agape, watching his every step. "Stay close, kiddo," he mumbled as he compelled to the right, using his hands to push the weed and leaves out of his face. After a dandy, silent promenade, he slowly and swiftly crouched low, and motioned her to do the same, and that she did. "There she is," he groaned, thinking of the meat that would go in his digestive system after being forced to live without it for so damn long. It was an exquisite creature, truly was, with its' scintillating fur and durable antlers. Just like the one she had as her first kill, all that years ago which seemed almost like forever. He took cover swiftly behind a wide tree, and aimed, closing his left eye and leaving his mouth agape. "You're mine," he mumbled as he pulled the trigger and the red-yellow bolt left the groove, and hit nowhere but a tree, thus missing the target and causing the poor animal to let out a whimper and escape. "God damn," the both of them muttered under their breaths as they followed and tracked the sound of hoofs hitting aggressively on the soil.

Running didn't get them anywhere, as the deer tactfully escaped both their sights and ranges. The hunger hitting more and more with every step they took, and the images going through their minds of old, long-gone Christmas dinners, chicken and turkey and pork, or just ordinary greasy, downtown fish and chips weren't doing the lot good. They walked and walked throughout the woods, in high hopes of finding and hunting a squirrel, or a rabbit, or anything. They didn't wanna go back there hands empty, and see the teary, exhausted and fed up look in their friends' eyes that had lost their radiance a while ago, no sir.

Her feet killing her, she slowly shifted right, her crossbow firm in her hands. Daryl shot her a confused look, but followed her steps anyway, nipping on a straw as a habit. She had seen something,or caught something, just out the corner of her eye. A building, or.. a tower, perhaps? Was the hunger causing her to see hallucinations? Well, that was one more damned thing to worry about, wasn't it? She quickened her pace, her eyes scanning her environment as they eventually got out to an opening, leaving the trees and some of the green behind, standing tall on a pretty steep hill, overlooking the area.

"Sure as hell we've hit the jackpot, kid."