Author's note: Thank you very much to everyone who is following along!
This chapter is not from the characters' POV. I hope I didn't make it too confusing.
Michonne and Daryl were brought back to earth by some unfortunately familiar growls. Walkers really had the worst timing. Moving back to the main part of the barn they studied the available options. It seemed the best choice was to make a quick exit through a door on the right, which they did, easily dispatching the few dead who had chosen to approach the soon-to-be collapsed structure from that side. Once the noises died down they reduced their speed, but, alas, this was not meant to be a slow day. Not even 5 minutes had gone by before they had to rush again as another group of walkers came at them from the left. They felt for those people earlier but couldn't help cursing them for all the shooting.
Just as the two of them started thinking they might as well take on the 30 or so walkers, which they really didn't feel like doing after all the running around, they came across a humongous white oak. Michonne halted and Daryl followed suit turning to her with a question. When she looked up he followed her line of sight and saw a tree house, for which they made a beeline and scrambled up a never-ending ladder. Once at the top Daryl saw it was hooked to the landing, but not nailed down, so he started pulling it up. He found that, even better than he'd thought, the ladder was actually meant to be pulled up, it had a way of folding on itself at certain parts. As soon as he was done, he flopped on the wood floor alongside Michonne.
When they recovered their ability to breath at a normal rate they started looking around. This was certainly not your run-of-the-mill tree house; someone's parents had been (or most likely hired) very accomplished builders. In any case, a lot of money had been spent. From the outside it looked like a scaled-down two-story house with a wraparound porch and windows adorned with green curtains. The inside however had only one level which was high enough for Daryl to stand, even if only just, and contained some well-made smallish furniture. Off to one side sat three chairs with backpacks hanging on them and a round table covered by what had probably once been white linen but was now under so much dust that one couldn't tell for sure. A vast amount of dust was all over everything, really. The other end of the space had three bean bag chairs with green cushions and a teeny-tiny coffee table. On the walls hung a few posters of comic book heroines and of Hollywood heartthrobs as well as a decorative pinboard above the table. A bookcase housed a small battery-operated stereo, books, cd's, board games, many, many comics, half-burned candles and some odds and ends.
The most interesting thing though was the second bookcase, or rather its contents: several unopened snacks and drinks. Even chocolate! Michonne almost did a little dance. They grinned at each other, grabbed a few water bottles, some edibles and headed for the table. He had chips and peanuts. She had chocolate bars and a twinkie. They remained quiet while eating, Michonne enjoying the sweets with almost obscene pleasure, which attracted a few glances from Daryl.
Once they were done, he lit a cigarette and she went about examining the space more closely. The thing about the two of them was that after so many months spent together looking for the Governor they could almost communicate telepathically, or so it looked like to others. It wasn't telepathy, of course, it was being aware of someone's reactions to such an extent that even the most subtle shifts, such as the slightest tensing of a muscle, the quickest darting of an eye or the quietest drawing of a breath, would be perceptible. And it was so instinctive that even they didn't realize they were doing it. This, however, only seemed to apply to situations of danger, which is why they had been able to navigate the woods from the barn to the tree house in tandem without so much as a word, but, now that things slowed down, found themselves each in their own heads, and not in each other's. They didn't mind the silence, it felt easy being quiet together. But every now and again they took a stab at what they felt was an acceptable amount of small talk, and Daryl decided this was a good time for it.
"Watcha think this was?" he asked, glancing around.
"Amazons of the South."
"Huh?"
She chuckled at the confused look on his face and pointed to the pinboard. He followed her finger and examined it, finding a bunch of things he would call 'girly'. He kept moving his head up and saw large letters cut from blue, red and gold paper that spelled 'Amazons of the South'.
"What's that?" He still looked confused.
Again, she pointed to the board and, again, he followed her finger. There was a sheet of paper on the bottom left corner that read:
CLUB RULES
1) Amazons must keep all promises to other Amazons
2) Amazons must defend all other Amazons
3) Amazons can't tell the secrets of other Amazons
4) No boys allowed in the Clubhouse
(Rule number 4 was crossed out and replaced by "Some boys are OK")
"Amazons?" The puzzled expression remained on his face.
This time she pointed to one of the posters on the wall and Daryl lost it.
"Wouldja stop pointin' to things and just answer the damned question!?"
"OK, OK, calm down." Since she couldn't keep herself from laughing altogether, it was too entertaining, she added an "I'm sorry".
"It looks like Jenny, Lilly and Becca…" she pointed to the names on the board and he scowled "…formed a club and this is where they met. I'm guessing the name of the club came from Wonder Woman" she pointed back to the poster she had indicated before and he scowled once more. He was going to lose it again soon. "She was an Amazon, if I'm not mistaken."
"She was a forest?" he asked, quickly adding "and dontcha dare point nowhere again!"
She took a deep breath to keep from laughing once more and said "I won't, don't worry. Amazons are from Greek mythology; they were supposed to be a tribe of warrior women. I'm very impressed that these girls named their club after them. I think I would have liked meeting their parents."
"Warrior women, huh? If them girls were here you could show 'em a real life one" he said before moving outside to smoke another cigarette, his cheeks turning two shades above pink.
Michonne was the confused one now. The comment itself, clearly high praise for him (and for her too), was puzzling enough since he wasn't exactly known for distributing compliments. But what really had her wondering was that he seemed embarrassed by saying it, she thought she even saw him blush. Of course, the man did look embarrassed on a regular basis, it just seemed to be in his nature.
She shook her head, waving her thoughts aside, and joined him on the porch asking "You know what this means, right?"
"No, what?" he asked.
"If these girls met here, they couldn't have lived far, so there has to be at least one house close by. Judging by this set up it's likely to have a full pantry and a lot of other useful stuff. If it hasn't already been looted, that is."
"Great, we'll go lookin' tomorrow, not much daylight left and I don't wanna move another muscle today."
'What a shame' flashed through Michonne's mind, taking her by surprise. It was her turn to blush.
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think :)
