Another one. Another survivor. A child no less!
I don't know how Blue did it, but he found her, even through all the distraction of the smoke, fire and explosions. He did it.
Sometimes I wonder about who the owners of these dogs were. Blue... Blue I think used to belong to an old couple. He must've grown old with them and he was good with the grandkids.
Rocket was a police dog, there's no doubt about that. Seeing the way she protects us and how she attacks walkers, no fucking doubt.
Blondie. Hmm, I think Blondie was a gift, to a kid, or a teenager, someone young... and it wasn't that she was neglected, but more like, she was just there... like a decoration that came with chores. Then she was ditched when the dead began to rise...
Ditched... I wonder if Erin was ditched... or if she was in a group like ours... if she could survive there must be others out there. Right? I mean, she's 6 years old! There's got to be others, and if there's others, we can form a bigger group. More protection, a bigger society, more reason to believe we can actually make it through this mess.
6... 6 years old and on her own in a time and place like this... Thank goodness for Blue...
But I still can't help but wonder... I mean, I just wanna wake her up and ask question after question, but she's just so tired and horrified... but I mean...
How in the fuck did she manage to walk through Atlanta without even a scratch?
Where is she from? Where has she been? Who has she been with? How did she get here? Why is she alone? Where are her parents or guardians or someone who looks after her? When's the last time she had something to eat or drink? How has she been surviving?
I guess I shouldn't question it, I suppose I should just be grateful Blue found her and brought her to me.
I got another girl. Another little girl. Delivered to me at the worst of times.
Honey and Erin, my post apocalyptic adopted daughters...
Good fucking lord.
-L.B.