Warnings: Adult themes in this chapter.

Ten: Fire on the Mountain

"Come on, Reenie," her mother hollered from downstairs. "Duke wants to get going. He don't get much time off." Shannon waited for a a response from her daughter, pulling a cigarette out of the pack and lighting it up, taking a long first drag. Tapping her foot on the bottom step, she listened for movement. "Maureen, let's go!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Jesus, Mom, hold on," the girl called out, rounding the banister and trotting down the stairs.

"Don't use that fuckin' language." The thirty-two year-old woman straightened and put a hand on her hip.

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mother, I won't use the fuckin' Son of God's name in vain."

"Really, Maureen, I am worried for your soul."

"Me too," Maureen said sarcastically. She glanced at her mother who was moving the cross pendant back and forth on the chain around her neck with a look of worry. Duke was a born again Christian and Shannon's latest man. The idea of her mother finding Jesus was so ridiculous that it was almost comical to her. Maureen shook her head and slung her backpack over her shoulder. This was the most ridiculous phase her mother had gone though yet.

Her mother grabbed her suitcase and spun towards the door. "Come on, close the door behind you."

The fifteen year-old moved her hair to the side and paused in the doorway, taking one last look at the apartment they were leaving behind. She liked this place. It was small and a little old, but it was cozy. "Good-bye," she whispered only so she could hear, taking the doorknob in her hand and retreating from the house.

Maureen sat on top of the rest stop picnic table, waiting for her mother and Duke. She popped the top on her cola and took a sip of the carbonated beverage. Putting her ear to the can, she listened to it pop and fizz.

A magpie landed, sitting perched on the fence-post next to her. She stared at it, watching it cock it's head, fixating on her. "One for sorrow," she spoke quietly, a pit forming in her stomach.

She sighed, growing forlorn. "Shoo," she waved dismissively at the bird, but it stayed put. "Shoo, get out of here."

"Maureen," Duke called from the car. Giving the bird one last glare, she sighed again and ambled to the car.

"Creep," she muttered at the bird, looking back at it one last time before walking to the car.

"How about this one?"

Maureen looked at the white dress her mother was holding, a look of approval mixed with optimism graced her face as she nodded vigorously. "I don't know," the girl said inspecting the lace. "It's really," she paused searching for a word that wouldn't piss her mother off, "white."

"You hate it. Why do you hate it? It's perfect for Church." The two had been in Talladega for three weeks and were mostly settled in to their new home.

"I don't need a new dress. I was just going to wear the one with the sunflowers."

"That old rag? You'll look like a hippy! No, you can't wear that."

"Since when is there anything wrong with my sunflower dress? And I don't even want to go to Church."

Shannon sighed and hung the dress back on the rack. "That's too bad, because you're going. We're going as a family."

"That's a figgin' joke." Maureen turned to the rack behind her. Suddenly she felt a smack and her head jolted forward. "Ow!" she yelped and rubbed the spot, fixing her hair.

"Don't be disrespectful."

"I'm not being disrespectful. I'm being honest with myself and you should too. He's never even home. We're not a family. This is going to end just like all the others. With you crying and drinking every night, me holding your hair out of the toilet and us going back to Cordele." Maureen watched her mother's lips purse and added, "I don't like him. He's weird."

"Don't you talk about him like that," she glared at her daughter and pulled the white, lace dress from the hanger, causing it to sway on the rack violently. "We're getting this one and I don't want to hear another word about it."

Maureen sat at the top of the steps, her hands gripping the spokes of the railing as she strained to hear what the adults downstairs were saying.

"She's just being a teenager," she heard her mother say, resigned to that.

"No, Shannon, you know that there's somethin' else." Duke's voice was arrogantly floating up to where she sat.

There was silence for a while, Maureen heard the kitchen chair grate across the floor and stiffened, ready to run back to her bedroom. "I don't know," she heard her mother say finally. "I have that meeting with the ladies from church about the potluck next month, can we finish this later?"

Another pause, she could imagine Duke's face, annoyed that their conversation was being cut short at first and then accepting. "Yeah, of course," he finally spoke in a level tone.

"Will you just make sure Reenie is asleep by 9? It's a school night."

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"Okay, I'll be home by ten." Maureen heard their footsteps approaching the front door and scampered off to her room.

Maureen sat cross-legged on her bed, looking through a stack of odd-ball postcards she'd picked up earlier that day for five cents each at the local discount store when the door to her bedroom squealed as the man pushed it open.

He leaned himself against the doorjamb, inhaling the sweet tobacco smoke of his hand-rolled cigarette. She looked at him expectantly.

"Your momma said that you made a little bit of a scene at the dress shop today," he exhaled. "She said she thinks we should spend a little more time gettin' to know each other if this is goin' to work."

Maureen was silent, not liking his tone or his movements. She recognized them from other boyfriends her mother had that had taken too much of an interest in her.

"You need some discipline. And you need to get used to this. Because me and your momma, we're not goin' anywhere. Do you understand me? If you're goin' to live in this house you will respect God and you will respect me."

Maureen looked at him from the corner of her eye, not having the guts to face him.

"Do you hear me, Girl?" He asked louder, more impatiently.

She nodded slowly. He strutted over to the bed and loomed over her.

"Stand up," he commanded, but she couldn't move, she just sat, still holding one of the postcards in her hand. "Stand up, Girl," his voice was low and warning so she did as she was told. He sat on the bed and pulled her in front of him. "Pull your jeans down, an' your underwear."

Maureen looked at him stunned at what he was asking her to do. "No," she began to back away, but he caught her arm.

"Get over here," his lips wrapped tighter around his cigarette to keep it from falling from his mouth. "I'm gonna put you over my knee."

"No," she yanked back, but his grip on her arm grew tighter.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said as he tugged at her jeans, pulling them down along with her underwear in one, swift motion. She tried to cover herself with her free hand, feeling so exposed in front of him.

He forced her over his knee, "Stop!" she cried. "You asshole!"

"I'm gonna beat that Devil right outta you, girl." He forced his forearm down on her back and she felt her ribcage compress slightly with the weight. It was a terribly embarrassing predicament for a fifteen year-old girl to be in, her bare butt sticking up in the air in front of her mother's boyfriend, she could feel her face flushing bright red.

"Asshole!" she screamed. "You jerk, you degenerate," she spat out. Thwack. It resounded through the room and her buttock burned at the contact of his palm. She let out a sob. "Stop!"

Thwack, thwack, thwack. She squirmed under his control.

"Fucker, mother fucker." she tried to beat her fists against his leg.

"Watch that mouth," the man said before raising his hand again. Thwack. He smiled, he couldn't help that he was enjoying this, laughing at her misfortune. She'd learn not to have that kind of mouth in his home. He continued the spanking, watching her butt turn bright red.

"Stop," she was crying, snot pouring from her nose. "Please," she shuddered as she tried to breath regularly.

He hit her ten more times, the flesh swelling. "Please," she sobbed. "Oww, please, I'm sorry," she relented.

He rubbed her glowing butt, "Good girl." He stood and adjusted his pants, now tight from having her over his knee. He didn't expect to have such a reaction to her. His cigarette was still dangling from his mouth as he watched her slowly pull her jeans back up, realizing it was no longer lit. He pulled out his lighter and watched as it caught flame once again.

"My mom is gonna be so mad when I tell her what you did to me," she warned, quickly wiping her tears.

"Your Momma knew this is what needed to be done. She said I should do it."

"No she didn't," the girl stood defiantly several feet away. "You liar," she took her hand and swiped the postcards angrily off the bed, her eyes not leaving his. He watched the cards flutter to the ground.

"What did you call me?" He took a long drag.

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, ignoring the horrible numbing burn of her butt cheeks. "A liar, you liar. You mother fucking, God damned, fuck assed, cock sucker," she venomously shot the words at him.

He stood still, not reacting to the words immediately. He puffed at his cigarette. The next thing she knew she was on the ground, his palms slapping at any part of her that he could get at as she struggled; her head, her arms, her stomach. "You have the Devil in you!" he yelled.

Maureen managed to turn over, beginning to crawl away from the relentless beating, but he flipped her back over. His hands went to her neck and tightened, choking her. Her arms outstretched, she clawed at his wrinkled face, but they were too short for her to be able to do anything.

"You think you can get away with this shit?" He screamed in her face, spit flying out of his mouth and his dark hair falling out of place. "I'm gonna break you, girl." He slapped her face again, releasing his hold on her throat.

The girl's eyes were wide and full of fear. She was stunned by the events that were unfolding. Her chest filled with hate as she coughed and gasped for air.

"You little bitch," he spat and sucked on his cigarette, grabbed her arm and quickly pressed it to her flesh. The girl screamed as she stared in disbelief, the searing pain registered fully and flooded her head. He shoved her arm back at her. "Get up," he said, standing over her. Big tears slid down her cheeks. "Go to bed."

Maureen lay in bed, completely exhausted, her eyes swollen and red from crying. One hand lightly covered the burn on her arm, protecting it from the bedsheets.

She heard her mother's footsteps as she climbed the stairs after returning home. Her eyes snapped shut as her door opened momentarily, soon closing again. Her eyes opened and she blinked away several more tears.

There was too much running though her head. Too much that her mind seemed unable to process exactly what happened to her.

Yes, she had been spanked before, but never with such ferocity and abandon, and she hadn't been spanked since she was a little girl. She wasn't all innocent, she knew what the bulge she'd felt against her stomach was. She could never feel comfortable around Duke again. She wasn't safe.

The burns cropped up over her body in the weeks that followed. It became an almost ritualistic occurrence when her mother left the house.

Maureen sat in English, staring blankly out the window. She wasn't sure what Mrs. Young was talking about, she zoned out long ago. The teen readjusted her long sleeve shirt, pulling it further over her hands. It was warm inside the school and even warmer outside, but the shirt sleeves were necessary.

School would be out for the Summer in just two short weeks. That would mean spending more time at home, at home with Duke when he wasn't away driving his route. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the anxiety that was cropping up.

"Miss Railey," the voice was tentative. The girl's head snapped in the direction of her teacher's voice. "Maureen, the bell rang."

"Oh," she croaked.

"Are you alright? Feeling okay?" The woman's eyes were kind, she tucked her chin-length grey hair behind her ears.

"Umm, yeah," Maureen began to gather her books.

"Are you settling in? It must be difficult to change schools so late in the year."

"Yeah." Tears pricked her eyes. You have no idea, she thought.

"I heard that you're quite the budding artist," she smiled, ignoring her student's glassy eyes.

Maureen shrugged, "I'm not that good."

"May I?" The teacher's hand hovered above the sketchpad.

"Umm," Maureen was hesitant, the contents having grown darker over the past weeks. She pulled the book away.

The woman accepted this and continued to other things, "I'd like to discuss finals. I know you've missed a lot of material so I'm not going to require you to take the exam. Instead, why don't you pick a book to read and create an art project? We can discuss exactly what that will look like tomorrow, but for now you should get going to your next class. Sound good?"

Maureen was taken aback slightly at the woman's thoughtfulness. "Thanks," she said quietly and moved to the door.

"Miss Railey," the girl turned back to Mrs. Young. "Take care."

"Why are you doing this?" Shannon's voice cried out at her daughter who sat huddled on the kitchen floor, her back against the cabinets. "How could you make up something like this?"

By now the blood drained from Maureen's face and her extremities felt far away and out of her control, unable to grasp the sweater next to her to cover body. "I'm not lying," she whispered.

"I know that you're doin' it to yourself. Duke would never do that to you. Never," the woman shook her head in disbelief. She stared at the burns in various stages of healing on her daughter's arms and stomach. It couldn't be. "Get up." The woman ran her hands through her long, blonde hair and pulled at it in frustration once reaching the ends.

Maureen stayed put. She stared at the laminate floor, the rose design blurring with her tears. The pain in her chest was unbearable. "Mom," she squeaked.

"Get up," she repeated to her daughter through clenched teeth. "Get the fuck up!" Maureen flinched when her mother's foot made contact with the trash can, sending it tumbling over. "How could you? How could you try to ruin this for us," she said through tears.

"Mom," Maureen's voice grew smaller and more pleading, "please. I'm not lying."

"Shut up," Shannon crossed the kitchen to the sink, her back to Maureen as she gripped the edge of the counter. "You've done nothing but make this house unpleasant. Do you know how much Duke has done for us? For you? Don't you dare accuse him of this."

The girl felt so small and cold, goosebumps covered her arms. "Mommy, please." She felt so insignificant, so scared.

"No," her mother's voice was shaking as she slapped the knob on the sink, water shooting out of the faucet. Then, her hand flew to the sprayer, pulling the hose from its resting spot and gripping the button hard.

The cold water hit Maureen like a hundred tiny needles. She gasped, popping out of her seat and slipping momentarily on the wet floor.

"Get out!" She heard her mother scream at her, still aiming for her. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to see your face. Get out of my house." The hate in her voice sent another stabbing pain through Maureen as she shot out of the house, pulling her tank top and sweater around her, having not realized immediately that she'd snatched them on her way out the back door.

Maureen found herself alone. She was a loner, an outsider. No friends, no one who cared for her safety. The one person she was supposed to be able to count on had failed her. And for a man at that. She was too scared to go back home, knowing Duke would be home from his route by now.

The light was fading and Maureen found herself a long ways from home, her feet having carried her with out her knowledge or consent to the middle of a bridge. She looked over the side to the muddy water below. Another round of tears clouded her vision.

She was at a loss for what to do. She knew her mother was the type with too much pride to ever admit that someone she loved could ever hurt someone else she loved. The abandonment and violation she felt welled inside her.

There always came a point where Shannon got backed into a corner in her relationships, the drinking would start. And once she got started up like that you didn't want to be the one to try and stop it. Now, it was only a matter of time for that hammer to drop.

She had nowhere to go. She wracked her brain for ideas, settling on the cemetery. She was on a search for level ground, somewhere she could calm herself and feel safe.

Yes, it was true that most girls her age wouldn't be caught dead in a cemetery after dark, but there was an odd comfort in the place that dialed back the volume in her head.

Ten months had passed, her sixteenth birthday long gone. She wouldn't set foot in the school again, deciding to drop out. Instead her days were spent at the library, still gaining knowledge, but on her own terms. It was more like home than the house on Mulberry Lane.

Mulberry Lane, how nice it sounded there, but don't be fooled. It was Hell. In the warmer months she would spend days at a time away from the house, sleeping in the cemetery at night and spending her days at the library.

Duke had transgressed to a perverse fetish involving her. Nothing was off limits with her. He did break her, like he said he would, right in two. Sometimes it was more than her young mind could take.

She fantasized about a myriad of things that plagued her. Sometimes she wanted to kill him and sometimes she wanted his greedy hands on her, any man's hands on her. She had even begged him one night to burn her, throwing up afterward. She shook the vile thoughts from her head, she was messed up. She didn't feel deserving of much of anything.

Maureen sat outside Drake's Bar and Grill. It was a BBQ place, but more well know for drawing in the biker crowd. She was there on a mission, a need filling her all day. She washed, primped, and dressed in the white lace dress that she never actually wore to church. A pair of boots and some deep berry lipstick was the topping on the cake.

She sat on the fence which lined one side of the parking lot with her legs dangling. She draped her hair over her shoulder, looking more mature than her age suggested. She eyed the usual biker crowd. A few younger men who had rolled in earlier in their trucks looked to be taking bets on who might get to bed her. She caught two doing a quick rock-paper-scissors to decide who would make the first move. She pretended not to notice.

She straightened when a blonde man, possibly in his late-twenties, approached her. He was good looking enough. "Hey Doll, you alone?" She nodded quietly in return and he held out his hand. "A drink?"

"Not here," she drawled.

The man glanced back at his buddies looking smugly at them. "My place?"

"Yeah." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and tried to give him a coy smile.

The whiskey sang in her veins, having turned down the beer that was initially offered to her. She was already fired up from the ride to his house. After telling her his name, which was James, it didn't take long for her to slide over to the middle seat in the cab and for his hand to find the inside on her thigh, caressing it lightly. When he asked her how old she was, she lied, saying nineteen. Surprisingly he was dumb enough to believe that, but that was exactly what she wanted.

"Oh," she moaned into his neck as he sucked on her earlobe. Her hand was teasing him through his jeans.

His hands ran down her sides, admiring the lace fabric beneath his fingertips. He had to slow her down a little. Otherwise, before he knew it he'd be blowing his load. He wanted to savor her, it wasn't often her got something young and sweet to take back home. He took her arms and moved them so her hands were above her head and he was in complete control.

He felt the areas of raised flesh and glanced at the marks, then to her face. Her eyes were closed as she writhed under him. "You into some kinky shit?" Her eyes fluttered open, a brief look of confusion clouding them and then, a realization.

"Mhmm," she purred, recovering. "And you're the lucky man who gets to do whatever he wants to me tonight. So what'll it be, cowboy?"

James was pretty vanilla when it came to sex. His previous girlfriends were all good in bed, but none of them were ever very adventurous. But, he had fantasies of his own, just like the next guy. He contemplated her words, whatever he wanted? The possibilities.

This was not a sofa girl, he decided, so he pulled her up and led her to the bedroom. He was thankful that his sheets, although not fresh, weren't disgustingly old.

He sat on the bed and began to unbutton his shirt as she stood before him silently, her eyes dark. "Undress for me." He licked his lips. "Real slow," he added.

The young woman's hands went to the side zipper of her dress, finding the hold and agonizingly slowly pulling it down. Each tooth of the zipper clicked. Maureen moved delicately to the straps of the dress, her eyes on his the entire time, but his eyes were roaming.

The fabric slipped over her breasts, down her sides, past her knees, until she let it drop to the floor. This left her in just her pink panties. She stood bravely.

"Damn," escaped his lips. "Take them off."

Her thumbs hooked onto the waistband, pulling them off. She was naked before him, scars on full display, waiting. Some men were turned off by them.

"What do you want to do to me?" She found the courage to ask.

He waved her to him and she stepped forward until she was standing between his legs. "Undo my belt. Then take my pants off."

She did as she was told and they carried on like that. Him telling her exactly what he wanted her to do, and carrying though with that. His hands were exploring her, testing her wetness.

"Lay down," he said, a smile reaching his face when he saw how wet she was for him. "I wanna taste you."

Maureen laid back, a million voices clouded her head and her excitement and nervousness rose inside her, she'd never had a man go down on her before.

It was fantastic. His tongue glided, dipped inside her, and swirled around her nub. He repeated this many times, hooking a finger inside her, then another. He fucked her like this until her panting reached an all time high. "Come on, baby girl," his breath blew across her and she shivered. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave. She'd never had such a strong orgasm. She rode it out, her fingers tangling with his hair and he continued to lap at her.

"Damn, you're fuckin' hot." He slid over her and reached into the bedside drawer, producing a rubber, he rolled it over his manhood and placed himself at her entrance rubbing up and down her slit. "Wait," he pulled back, "get on your hands and knees. I wanna fuck you from behind."

Maureen complied, feeling him enter her, eliciting a hiss. He felt so good.

"You like that, baby? You like it when I fuck you like that?" She moaned back at him, which he seemed to like, boosting his ego.

His finger gripped her hips as he pounded her, he'd never been this rough with a girl and he loved how she was eating it up. He gathered her long hair, tugging at it, using it to force her back against him.

"You're too much. You're a fuckin' handful, you're sex crazed. Insatiable. I don't know what's wrong with you, but I think you should talk to someone. You're too much for me," James spoke, his voice half trembling. "You called me Daddy, that's sick," he looked at her disgusted.

Maureen glared at the man who she'd been living with for several weeks. She really liked him and took this as a betrayal. He'd said that he would take care of her as he held her on the sofa.

James shifted uneasily, her eyes intense. "Fucker," she mumbled and shook her head, taking off for the bedroom to gather her things. He followed her. "You loved it, don't even try to deny it."

"I was drunk," he reasoned.

"So?"

"Well, you weren't drunk. You knew exactly what you were sayin'."

"That's rich. You were eating it up. You said you loved me. And now you're throwing me out." Maureen was stuffing her clothes into her grey backpack on one side of the bed, James on the other.

"Again, I was drunk. You didn't actually think I meant that, did you?" He threw his hands up.

She paused and looked at his expression, like he thought she was crazy and closed her eyes. She bit her lip, "God, I'm stupid. Yeah, I did actually believe you!"

"I don't love you," he shot back. "And I don't think anyone does. And Justin told me you asked him if he wanted to fuck you. Slut." He felt better knowing the bed was between them.

She almost looked like she was about to pounce on him. "Go to Hell and that was before we were together."

"Look," he said quietly, feeling terrible for the words that escaped his mouth, "You're just a kid. You're not mature enough."

"So it's over?" She winced, pain pointing it's pistol and she holding her hands up high in defeat.

"It's over." James stated.

"I'm gonna get outta here one day. I'll be a famous actress or maybe a model," Carly sat next to Maureen as the two shared a joint behind the diner on their break. There was a mid-afternoon lull like usual. "I think I'd like to go to New York City."

Maureen smiled at the girl next to her, only a year or so older than herself. She'd moved in with Carly shortly after moving back to Cordele and getting the job at the diner her mother used to work at. It was easy to get the job seeing as they knew exactly who she was. She practically grew up at the diner, spending evenings and weekends there when her mother was working.

She and Carly shared a one bedroom apartment several blocks from the diner.

"Do you have any dreams, Reenie?" Carly took another toke.

Maureen marveled at how weed always made Carly act like this. "Me? Naw, things don't exactly work out for me."

"Oh, Reenie, do you always have to be so depressin'?"

The redhead shrugged, "I just don't think there's any use in having dreams."

"What else do you have to keep yourself going in this shit hole if ya don't have dreams?" Carly passed the joint back to Maureen and pulled her brunette hair into a ponytail. "There's gotta be somethin' you wanna do," she said, her hair tie held between her teeth. "What about your art?"

"What about it?"

"You could sell it."

"No one wants my art, Carly. You want to know what I want?"

Carly nodded her head and smiled at her. "I want a normal, boring life. I want a husband and a little place in the woods. A porch to paint and draw on in the summer and a pair of warm arms to curl up in at night. But that's never going to happen for me. So I try not to admit that's what I want."

Carly looked down at her friend's arms, it made her sad to look at them, knowing someone had done horrible things to her. She'd tried to set her up with some of her friends, but Maureen had confided in her that she didn't think any man would want her.

Her friend spent all of her spare time at their apartment, never socializing unless it was just the two of them. She stayed on the outskirts, never letting anyone get close. She rarely even let her in and Maureen considered the woman her best friend.

There was a crash inside the diner, and the two froze, looking at each other before stubbing out their joint and heading inside.

"I'm sorry," Janine was saying as she piled the large order back on the tray she'd dropped. "I-" she wiped her brow, looking faint.

"What's wrong Jan?" Carly asked kneeling down along with Maureen to help her clean up the mess.

The elder woman looked to the television screen which they kept on 24-7 in the background. "Somethin's going on in Boston and Atlanta. I-" The woman looked back down and shook her head.

Maureen squinted at the news. "Does that say," she paused, a wave of nausea coming over her, "that people are eating each other? I think I smoked more than I thought."

"No, that's what it says," Andrew, the cook came up behind them.

"Where are you?" Carol's voice brought her back to the present as the woman's hand waved in front of her face. Maureen glanced up at her friend's sweet face. It was then that she realized the woman reminded her of her high school teacher.

"Nowhere," Maureen popped an oyster cracker into her mouth.

"May I?" her hand gestured to the sketchbook sitting next to her.

Maureen stopped chewing momentarily and her brow creased. This felt to so close to her. She nodded a quick okay. "Most of them are just quick sketches."

Carol carefully opened her book. "This is the bridge," Carol said in recognition.

"Yeah."

"It's good. Where's this?" she asked after turning the page.

Maureen glanced over. It was the cabin. "Oh, that's where Daryl and I were hold up the night the herd passed though."

The woman nodded turning back several pages, reaching a sketch of Daryl. "Oh, this one really captures him." Carol chuckled slightly. "You really got that look on his face just right."

Maureen smiled, "You think?"

"Definitely. Why don't you think you're any good? Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're talented?" Maureen avoided the woman's gaze.

"Yeah, a teacher once did."

Carol smiled and handed the book back.

The evening was chilly, the group was finishing dinner.

"Mom," Carl grasped Lori's wrist, "What about a story? Maybe tonight Maureen could read one?"

"Why don't you ask her?" Lori wasn't sure that was something the young woman would really want to do. She raised her eyebrows at her son when he faltered at the task. She pushed him to be more independent. He couldn't rely on she and Rick for everything anymore. They weren't cozy in their sweet hometown anymore. "Go on," she said, "She doesn't bite."

Maureen couldn't say no to the kid. She didn't want to read out loud in front of everyone, but his wishful face was one she couldn't turn down. "You sure," Rick asked. She nodded and motioned for Carl to sit next to her. "Alright, I'm going to take over for Hershel, anyone mind relieving Daryl?" Rick asked.

"Glenn an' I will," Maggie stood and held her hand out for him to take. It wasn't often that they had the chance to talk by themselves.

Daryl made his way to group, Carol waved him on and held out a bowl of food to him. "Sit," she whispered.

Maureen dug through her bag for her book. "What's that one?" Carl asked, pointing at her black spiral bound sketchbook.

"Uhh, it's a sketchbook," she answered.

"Are you an artist?" he pressed.

"No, not really an artist," she zippered her backpack back up.

She tilted her book toward the light and skimmed the contents for a short story. She'd read this book so many times that she really didn't need to look. She knew all the stories in the book. She did it anyway, even if she already knew which story she wanted to read and what page it began. She was stalling for sure.

"Okay," she said as she flipped though the pages until she came to page 88. "The Cats of Ulthar," she spoke the title.

The young boy seemed mesmerized, Maureen closed the book finishing the story. "Another," he pled.

Daryl watched Maureen glance at Lori. "One is enough," Lori spoke.

He'd been avoiding Maureen for the past few days, focusing on helping Rick make alterations to the camp and making plans. He had to talk to her at some point though. Rick told him that he wanted the two to go back out to hunt and forage, that he thought they made a good team.

Their leader wanted them to supplement the shelf-stable food with fresh meat and vegetables as much as possible in preparation for the winter when game and other food wouldn't be as plentiful. "Make plans with her for tomorrow, will you?" Rick had asked of him, not feeling the need to facilitate.

He approached her from the side, "'Ey."

"Hey," she returned his greeting.

"'At was nice of ya earlier, readin' to the kid like that. He's been lonely since," he stopped before saying the child's name – Sophia. He couldn't bring himself to say her name. "Rick wants us ta go out again tomorra, see what we can find."

"Okay," she said, twirling her hair and biting her lip. Daryl caught himself staring at her mouth and looked away.

"We'll set out at dawn, 'kay?" he began to walk away, not waiting for a response.

I know this is a long update, which got me wondering whether people prefer longer chapters or shorter chapters more frequently. I usually stop chapters where they make sense to me, but longer chapters take longer to write, especially since I'm the type to write and rewrite, then adjust things again 'til I like it.

I really wanted to introduce my O.C.'s past in length here. I know there's not a lot of TWD character interaction in this chapter, so I hope it held interest. More of that in the next chapter.

Also, I really recommend reading the short story Maureen read in this chapter if you haven't before. It's a favorite of mine and I sort of feel like it lends to the dark themes of their lives. Just search "The Cats of Ulthar" by H.P. Lovecraft and you can find texts online. It's a fairly quick read.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!