Delta Dawn.
Delta, noun :
A piece of land shaped like a triangle that is formed when a river splits into smaller rivers before it flows into an ocean.
Chapter.2: River of antiquities.
The pain that throbs in Lilly's ankle is deep and warm and wholly unpleasant. The heat radiating out does little to soothe her chilled flesh and stinging nerves, instead, it feels like someone has their hand around the tender bones and weakened muscles and is squeezing either too gently or as hard as they could. As it wanes she feels as though she can move again, albeit slowly and with an obvious limp but then, when it returns all she could do was hold still and breathe through her teeth. Breathing slow and deep, her eyes scrunching up tight until it passes and she can continue her miserable shuffling behind Garcia and his companion.
"Not much further." Garcia, the finest example of a curmudgeonous man since her late father, grunts over his shoulder. "Haul your ass or we'll leave your ass."
He doesn't bother to look back, but the woman at his side does. Her eyes scan the shadows behind Lilly for any walkers that might have encroached on the injured woman lagging behind, encouraged by the sight of slow-moving prey. They're still there, lurking in the shadows and following them through the dense foliage. Only a small pack had broken off to feed upon the man that Garcia had killed while the rest of the herd snarled and crooned in their frightening chorus and shambled onwards in hopes of a warm meal.
Turning back, the woman increases her pace to a brisk jog. Threading the strap of her rifle over her head as she darts out of sight, but only for a minute or two. When she returns she is bowed over, a second corpse -the other man who had pursued Lilly- is braced across her shoulders, his toes dragging in the dirt as she struggles to carry her burden.
Garcia's tongue clicks against his teeth as his companion stumbles closer, but his voice carries with it a lilt of amusement, the first indication that perhaps the man was less a blackberry bush and more human than he first let on. "What are you doing?"
"Feeding the wildlife." The woman's dark skin is damp with the sweat of her efforts, glistening like polished stone even in the darkness. "And if you were a gentleman, you'd offer to do this-" She shrugs the slipping dead man higher on over her shoulders. "-yourself, instead of bitching out an injured woman for being too slow."
"Just don't get your ass bit. The last thing I need is more of my brother's whining in my ear." And, just like that, he thorny disposition that Garcia wraps himself up in has returned, a knee-jerk response to his companion's lecture. He turns himself away, grumbling under his breath as she hauls the dead man further behind them, past Lilly and stopping less than ten feet in front of the snarling herd to deposit the offering on the ground.
Unshouldering her rifle once more, the woman then strides up to Lilly's side, her long legs devouring the distance before matching her step to Lilly's limp. Her eyes are all warm browns with hazel swirls, set against the sharp contours of her face and there's a tiny lift to her mouth as she speaks. "He's not all bad."
Wincing and setting her jaw against the fresh pulse of pain singing along her nerves, Lilly sucks her whimper back down in into her throat before managing to grind out a single word. "Who?"
"Him." The woman nods toward her companion's broad back. "Garcia. Well, David. He might come across as a dick but he's not quite as cold and thorny as he seems. He's just… been through a lot."
Lilly's eyes flick over toward the man, noting that he has slowed his pace a little before she turns her attention back to the woman beside her. "Yeah, well, way of the world nowadays. You either deal with a lot of shit or give a lot of shit to others."
"Mmm." The woman hums in soft agreement before twisting her head over her shoulder, checking the number of walkers that still follow despite the second easy meal placed at their feet. Less than half had taken notice of the corpse and gone in to feed, thankfully though, those that had were the ones leading the pack. Their jutting limbs and gnarled bodies blocking the rest that are still more interested in live prey, diverting them back into the trees where more sounds eddied to distract the roamers. "So, which are you?"
"What?"
The woman raises a slender brow, her earthy eyes catching in the dappled light with hints of softer tones as her lips twist up at the corner in a crease of sombre amusement. "That's a very sobering outlook you have. So, I'm curious about which side of the fence you fall. Dealt with shit, or dealt shit out?"
A flicker of movement tilts Lilly's own lips upwards. Cocking one side of her mouth higher but also wrinkling her nose, turning the expression from what might have been a smile to a grimace instead. "Both." Again she flicks her eye to the woman beside her, this time though she's watching for any movement or gesture -a tensing of her shoulders or her hands shifting on her rifle- that might indicate the woman's inclination toward her own revelation. "I've taken my fair share, but I'm no angel. Dealt out a good deal too. More than I should have, depending on who you ask."
But the woman makes no such gesture. She simply keeps pace, her eyes forward. "Killed people?"
Lilly's lashes slip over her eyes for a moment, lost again in the memories that would haunt her forever. The voices that had fought and raged, the teen that had quivered as he snivelled and pleaded. A gunshot that had bellowed silence into the darkness as a body had crumpled and fallen. And the child. She had been so small and frightened in the beginning, had once screamed and sobbed in despair every time another person was lost, now only fixed her with a sorrowfully clouded expression. Her honey gold eyes glazed and so very far away.
"Yes." Lilly breathes. "Too many." There would never be an escape for her, away from those memories. They weren't something that could be seen or fixed or even pushed aside and forgotten. The life that she had taken in one senseless moment and the innocence that she had broken in the next etched permanently into her brain and scarred into her heart. The pain and guilt that she carried with her - still carries with her- for her actions was to be her punishment for however long she had left on this earth. "One, a girl in my group, I killed her in cold blood. She had done nothing to me and I shot her without a second thought."
For a moment, the woman at Lilly's side is silent, but the brunette is aware, so painfully aware, of the eyes burning into the side of her face, just as her bullet had Carley's that pivotal night. And for the second time in a handful of minutes, Lilly feels herself tensing up as she nervously awaits the woman's judgement.
And, when it comes, her voice is quiet and thoughtful. Pensive, as though she herself is lost amid a whirlwind of bladed memories. Knives that cut deep into an already broken heart. "Well, at least you're honest." This time it's Lilly's turn to stare. The woman's eyes have darkened and dulled, their softness and warmth lost in the secrets of her own hidden past. "The worst thing you can be nowadays is a coward."
There is something peculiar in the silence that follows what the woman had said so softly that it catches in Lilly's brain. A pain behind it that is so profound that the lack of any sound fairly screams and pounds against Lilly's shuttered heart. For a moment she waits, giving her companion time to gather her thoughts and her sensibilities before she feels that she has been patient long enough for it not to be deemed impolite for her to pry. "You've suffered losses too, haven't you?"
"My husband." By the tone she uses, Lilly is certain that there is more behind her sorrow. So, again, she waits. Neither pushing or pulling the words from the other woman's lips. Her patience is rewarded, with a voice even more tiny and soft as the rest of the sentence is delivered. "And two children."
The woman beside her had been a mother once. A mother who had grieved -was still grieving- her family, loved ones. And while Lilly can understand the loss of a loved one, she can't quite understand the grief that a mother would feel to lose those bound by and born of her love with another. She can't offer that, but perhaps she can offer kindness, return the thoughtfulness of a stranger with nothing else but quiet companionship as she reflects.
"I've killed a girl too."
The quiet admission startles Lilly into a wide-eyed stare. Any and all thoughts are silenced while she simply watches and waits for the woman to continue her tale.
"She killed my husband, but when I fired, she wasn't a threat. She was just a scared kid. Must have been barely twenty, and I..." The woman sighs softly, her head shaking slowly and, for the first time, Lilly notices the woman's ruined ear. The top half is completely absent while the bottom half is scarred. The rise of her cheekbone bears the divoted furrow of a bullet track that narrowly misses her eye only to continues on and divide her eyebrow. "I just… fired. I didn't even care that my shot tore her guts up. I was just so angry. So pregnant. And I left her there, bleeding out slowly. Hoping that she was still alive when he turned and ate her."
Again the woman pauses in her story, and this time, the silence between them is filled with the sound of the river. The swirls and eddies bubbling in soft voices that chatter around the clusters of rocks and tangles of roots from the overhanging trees. Lilly wets her lips and parts them, preparing to ask how much further until they reach the boat but the woman speaks once again. Intent on finishing her memories as briskly as she can, her eyes on David as he wades deeper into the water -past his thighs and almost to his hips- and begins to haul the small boat closer to shore.
"My child was stillborn. Never even lived a single day in this horrific world. And the other child… She wasn't mine. A man trusted her to my care before he died. I tried my best, but after Omid…" Her head shakes slowly before her chin lifts, tilting her face to the evening skies as though she were searching for something meaningful amid the stars. "He died, trying to protect her. After that, I couldn't look at her anymore. I blamed her for his death. I blamed a nine-year-old child..."
When she turns her face back down, Lilly can see a wetness in her eyes, brimming her lids as tiny, shimmering beads cling to her lower lashes. "We were headed to a place up north. Wellington. I'd heard that it was safer up there. But we were ambushed, attacked and separated. She must have only been eleven or twelve by then and I… I never got to tell her that I-"
Whatever the woman was planning on saying next was lost. Swept away on the gale of slapping water and David's colourful cursing as he manoeuvres the small fibreglass vessel around and pushes it as close to the riverbank as he can without mooring it.
"Let's look alive, ladies." His rough voice calls as his dark eyes narrow. They peer out beyond the two women and catch sight of the rustling ferns and swaying saplings. "Looks like a few of the determined fuckers managed to catch up."
True enough, the shadows cast of beech and thicket heave and writhe and belch out the undead monsters that continue to advance on them. A mass of tangled limbs and rows of rotten broken teeth that shamble ever closer. Their gnarled and torn fingers hooking into talons as their rumbling moans heighten into excited howls. Despite David's urgency, the walkers behind the women are not close enough, nor numerous enough, to pose too much of a threat. However, it would only serve as senseless bravado and pointless risk if the two didn't quicken their steps, especially as the boat -and safety- bobs away merrily only a few feet away.
Without hesitation, boots splash through the frigid water, the icy touches renewing the burn of agony in Lilly's ankle as she attempts to haul herself over the boat's side as nimbly as the other woman had accomplished herself.
Attempts and fails.
Her jarring landing sends a strength zapping wave of pain racing through her ankle, along her shin and buckled her knee. And, before Lilly even has time to gather herself for a second attempt, she feels a broad shoulder wedging itself beneath her ass and an arm, lined with thick muscle, wrapping itself around her thighs as David all but throws her into the boat. With both the women now safely onboard, the man braces his shoulders and throws all of his weight into pushing the vessel into deeper waters, only dragging himself over the low side when the water was so deep that it laps at his chest and kisses his chin.
Ignoring Lilly's pointed scowl and flaring cheeks from her undignified boarding, David steps over the sprawled brunette without a word and takes up his place at the rear of the vessel. He continues to ignore her as he drops the small, outboard motor into the water and starts it. Setting his hand firmly on the tiller, he steers them out into the heart of the river before he even deigns Lilly worthy of his smug glances and cocky words. "You're welcome."
"I didn't need your help." The words fall from Lilly's lips, biting and scathing. Her eyes narrow into a scowl as David cocks a brow at her, amused by her defiance and fire even as his companion helps to lift the wounded brunette to her feet.
"Yeah, sure."
With the other woman's shoulder wedging into her armpit and her hand curling around her waist, Lilly allows herself to hobble backwards. Seating herself on the bench moments before her injured foot it deftly stripped of her boot and sock. The woman lightly presses against Lilly's ankle, her index finger and thumb barely squeezing against the knobbled protrusions of bone before Lilly is compelled to suck in a sharp breath as the pain spirals across her body. Dark eyes swing up and catch Lilly's own, the warm oaken brown orbs narrowing with concern. "Hurts?"
The waves of pain that take over a portion of Lilly's brain, like the tide does the dunes, are almost crippling. And it feels as if dealing with that is taxing of her energy enough without her bothering with the effort of new thoughts crowding into her head or words her tongue. So, she doesn't try to voice her discomfort, instead, she simply grunts low in her throat and nods as she blinks away the colourful spots that sashay and burn at the edges of her eyes and sinks her teeth into her lip from the pain of it all. There are gentle swells of nausea too, eating away at her empty belly. Not in great rolling waves that would have her retching threads of bile into the river but irritating pulses, just strong enough to make her take notice, to clutch the bench beneath her and breathe slow.
Finishing up her brief examination, the woman redresses Lilly's foot with her sodden sock, replacing her boot is impossible with the swelling. "I think it's a fracture, that's all." Again, she glances up to Lilly and offers her a small smile. "You got off lightly, considering how far you ran on it."
Lilly simply nods in silence. The gravity and stress of the last few hours finally catching up with her now that she is still and, as her singing adrenaline wanes, fear begins to make itself known to her. The little boat cuts through the dark water with moderate speed and a purr, and the shoreline has become little more than a figment of her imagination as though the darkness of the night has swallowed it up. She is alone and injured and sitting between two strangers, with the waves moving freely beneath them and their travel gathering pace. Where she had felt hope before, doubt now thrives.
Swallowing hard against her tongue, Lilly glances first to the woman and then to the man before she speaks. The false bravado that she injects into her words thinly masks the nervousness that stains her voice. "So, is this what you people do?" Skepticism arches her brow and her roiling anxieties tighten her words. "Trawl the rivers and rescue others."
"Something like that." David snorts and Lilly tenses at the cold amusement in his voice. "Lucky for you, we were in the right place at the right time-"
Scowling at her companion the woman cuts across him sharply. "We're from a settlement upriver." Her face relaxes into a softer, almost earnest, expression as she turns away from David to meet Lilly's eye. "It's a safe place, well protected but, as you can imagine, we have our share of enemies. People are desperate nowadays, they attack and steal and-" she sighs softly. "-kill, so numbers are important. Me and David, we act as scouts and recruiters for our people. We can offer you a safe home if you can offer us your loyalty."
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, Lilly's mind races. Her eyes darting between the two as all of the reasons not to do this come flooding into her head, her negative thoughts twist and turn inside her skull swirling into a vortex of conflicting emotions. The desire to feel safe warring with the fear of the unknown. The open and honest discussion she and the other woman shared now writhing with the whispering concerns that perhaps her motives had been less than friendly and more conniving.
However, before she can plummet too far into her disillusions and spiralling doubts, the dark-skinned woman clears her throat, snapping Lilly's focus back to herself. A small smile plays on her lips as she notes the reluctance clouding over Lilly's eyes before the nervous brunette could even think to hide it.
"I think a full introduction is in order. As I mentioned earlier, this is David." She gestures first to David. Directing Lilly's gaze over to the surly man who offers a thin smile and a bob of his head in wordless greeting before he returns his focus to steering the small boat. Then the woman redirects Lilly's focus as she gestured to herself. "And my name is Christa. And I would like to formally invite you to join us at the Delta."
"Alright, you little shits!"
The man's grating voice snaps through the air and his boot against the wall sends the array of teens scrambling away from the barred cell doors in a cacophony of voices that range from whimpers of fear to cries of outrage. His mouth curls into a crooked sneer as he swaggers along the corridor, rifle in hand, his face pushing up against the bars of each door, peering through the spaces between and smirking at the captives within.
"On ya feet! Face away from the doors and put yer hands behind your backs! Don't fight. Don't struggle and ya don't get hurt."
There's the suggestion of movement from inside of each of the caged rooms. Worn out boots and beat-up sneakers scuffling indistinctly over the ground as the occupants either fearfully or reluctantly follow the roughly barked orders.
"Up and at 'em, girlies."
Clementine, her chin still nestled against Violet's crown, rolls her head around until she is angled toward the cell door, her golden eyes flash and narrow in silent warning at the weathered face of the raider staring at them through the bars. Instinctively her lips curl up and away from her teeth, baring them in a feral snarl when she catches the perverse little gleam in his staring, sallow eyes and the cold twist to his mouth.
For a moment he simply stands there, still smirking, only turning on his heel and moving on when he had taken his fill of the quietly intimate scene. Leaving the blonde tense and the brunette's skin crawling as he strolls away. "Ain't got all day, now."
For a moment, both Violet and Clementine remain frozen in place. Blindly listening in a tangled mess of horror and nervous anticipation as one by one, each cell door creaks open and heavy boots clump inside, sending the kids caged within scattering like frightened rabbits. It takes a familiar, furious shout from AJ to send Clementine scrambling to her feet and pushing her face up against the bars, trying to see the chaos unfolding involving her boy.
"Clem?" Violet's voice is soft and small, but Clementine is grateful for the opportunity to focus on the comforting rasp rather than the distressing sounds as another one of her friends is bound at the wrists, roughly shoved into the hands of a waiting Delta soldier and marched out of sight. "You asked me what I would have us do, right?"
Stepping back on her heel, her fingers slowly slipping from the cold steel that they had curled around, Clementine sighs quietly. "I did."
There's a low creak from the cot as Violet moves, pushing herself up onto her feet. "We shouldn't fight them-"
The brunette's shoulders snap taut as her head whips around to needle the blonde with a sharp scowl. The anger and tension that tightens her muscles and curls her finger into clenched fists roll from her small body in thick, palpable waves as she bears down on the other girl. "So you would have us give up!" She drags a hand down over her face in frustration, even as a single bitter laugh barks low in her throat. "Goddamnit Vi, you're acting like a fucking coward."
"Are you going to let me finish talking before you shut me down?" The blonde's words carried with them a surprising bite. And, when Clementine uncovers her face, peeking through the timid little shell of a girl that had sunk into her arms only a half-hour earlier is Violet, her Violet, the Violet who is all fire and fury and 'fuck you's'. "Or are you going to actually listen to me?"
Another door is flung open and the process of binding the teens inside is repeated. Reminding Clementine that they are fast running out of time.
Sighing out her frustration, her breath skims over her teeth in a huff, Clementine folds her arms over her chest as she moves closer to the other girl. Her shoulder lightly bumping against Violet's as she cocks her head and offers the blonde a small smile. "Alright Vi, I'm listening."
Pale green eyes flicker over their touching shoulders, darting quickly between the door and the brunette, the nervous energy that simmers within tightens the clouding discs as they fixate on Clementine's own. "We let them take us. Train us. And then, when the time is right, we fight our way ou-"
The slam of their own cell door opening comes as a punctuation of finality to Violet's words. Her jaw snaps shut as both girls whip their heads around, wide eyes trained on the wall in front of them as they frantically try to feign innocence and silently hope that their hushed words hadn't been overheard. Rough hands seize Violet first, forcing
her wrists to twist inwards while her elbows jut out, stealing a gasp from her lips as the plastic ties are pulled so tight that the rough loops cut into her skin.
Furious on Violet's behalf, Clementine begins to twist around, her lips parting and a snarl of outrage dancing on her tongue, eager to fly but the resounding click of a gun's safety catch being flicked off halts her movements.
"I wouldn't if I were you, Clementine." Lilly's voice comes soft, so soft, and it's that softness that chills her blood more than the woman that it belongs to herself. Sliding her vision as far to the side of her head without turning as she could, Clementine sets her jaw as Lilly remains just out of focus, skirting along the edges of her peripherals. "Not if you want your dear, sweet Violet to keep her pretty little blonde head on her shoulders."
As if on cue, the older teen's head dips forward, the sinister maw of a gun creeping into Clementine's view as it nudges the back of the other girl's skull in a cold warning. Internally, Clementine is raging. Her anger snarls and howls and claws behind her ribs and inside her mind, a furious beast tethered and chained and rebelling against logic but outwardly, all the brunette can do is watch and wait with bated breath. And then she feels rough hands seize her own wrists and the muscles in her shoulders tighten, bracing herself against the painfully jerking motions and setting her teeth as the faceless raider twists and pinches the younger teens flesh into their own bindings. It's only then, with the two girls fully restrained, that Lilly finally slides into view, a smile slicking onto her face like oil.
"Now then," Lilly's eyes lift to peer over the top of the two teens at the other Delta soldier, her head bobbing in a single motion as her hand fists into the hooded layers of Violet's shirts and yanks her around. She's still smirking that oil slick grin at Clementine, even when the brunette herself it hauled backwards from the cell and shoved a few unsteady steps ahead of her own escort. "seeing as you girls are ready, I'd like to give you the grand tour of your new home."
Beneath their feet, the ship rolls over the gentle waves with ease, smoothing them out into little more than a suggestion of motion. However, it's only once the small group emerges from the galley below and steps onto the deck can they see the land beneath the sharply angled gangway, swaying with a little more enthusiasm with every swell and ebb of the tide, that the nerves and anxieties of the captive former Ericson survivors are made known.
"You can't be serious!" Louis shrugs his arm free of his assigned Delta escort and peers nervously over the edge of the ship, his skepticism clearly etched into the downturn of his mouth. "You expect us, with our hands tied behind our backs, to balance on and walk down a damned two-by-four? I'm a pianist, not a circus performer!"
"Boy," The big man behind the lanky teen rumbles, his fist twists into the shoulder of Louis's fawn-coloured coat as he forces the teen forward a step. "I don't give a rat's goddamned ass if you're the damn Pope! You will start walking your ass down that gangway before I kick your ass up and down the damned thing!"
"Alright! Okay!" Louis twists in the man's grasp, narrowing his eyes at the beefy hand wrapped around his jacket. "I'll get moving, just as soon as you let go of me."
The progress down is slow and sad, and the gangway bows and sways a little more violently beneath them as the captive teens shuffle nervously along the narrow path. Most stand sideways and slide their steps over the smooth wood, too uncertain to even lift their feet while those who don't shuffle still shorten and soften their movements.
When Clementine's feet touch the ground, it takes a second or two for her brain to catch up with what she's seeing, even though it is all there, right before her eyes. The shock slowly registers on her face as the new information gradually begins to sink in. Around her is a hive of activity. There are people everywhere, not soldiers, but actual ordinary survivors doing ordinary survivalist things. She can see laundry flapping, hung from lines that are strung between rows of buildings with crops growing in neat rows behind them. And there are strange, reflective panels affixed to the flat roof of each and every building. She can smell the strange sweet and sour tang of fresh animal manure wafting into her face, riding the breeze that rolls up over the river. She can even hear the livestock squealing and clucking and, most surprisingly of all, the riotous laughter of children twirling playfully around her ears.
Lilly hadn't been lying. Well, not about all of it and not so far at least.
For a moment Lilly is content to let the kids stare, their eyes snapping wide and most of their mouths hanging wider. But only for a moment. When Michael catches his commander's eye and cocks his head in silent question, the tall woman simply nods her confirmation before he clamps his hand on Louis's shoulder and steers the youth toward what appeared to be a communal building, a mess hall if the two women leaving it were of any indication. In their hands, they carry a large steel serving dish and a stack of a dozen or so bowls between them. The women barely pay Lilly's group or the bound teens any mind, they simply continue on their way and continue their conversation that Clementine can only catch brief snatches of as they pass. Something about lessons and the children needing new reading material…
"You're back?" Another voice snatches Clementine's attention back to her immediate surroundings and her head snaps around to pinpoint the owner. A stockily built man with a rust coloured beard and warm forest eyes is seated outside the building, one leg folded up over his knee and a bowl of beans with what looked like honest-to-god bacon in his hands. "You also look to be two men-" His eyes dart over to Dorian, narrowing just a fraction at the woman's head before he blinks and shovels another spoonful of food into his mouth. "- and half an ear, down."
"Yeah," The woman pointedly scowls over at AJ who, in turn, hurls his own seething glower right back at her. "The little shits are tough as balls. They fought back. Took out Abel and Yonatan."
"Seriously?" The man drags his spoon along the sides of the dish, scraping up every last morsel before he licks it clean and drops the spoon noisily back into his bowl. He then survey's the group of captives, his entire beard shifting as his mouth creeps into a grin beneath it. "Tots and teens took out two fully armed, fully trained soldiers?"
"I wouldn't say fully armed."
Both Clementine and the bearded man swivel their heads around, tawny gold and earthy green finding and fixing on the speakers face.
Goddamnit, Louis!
"Abel only had one arm when your guys attacked u- Hey!" The teen stumbles a step, his tidy dreadlocks bouncing as Michael's broad hand recoils from cuffing the young man upside the head for his lip.
The other man, however, simply howls with laughter. For several minutes, all that could be heard are his wild whoops and guffaws ringing through the air until Lilly's sharp reprimand slices through the jolly sound with sharp, bladed words. "That's enough, Jessop! Are they in there?"
Wiping away the tears of mirth, Jessop manages to compose himself, but just barely. "No," He sighs. The word fracturing under the tail end of his a final laugh, unfazed by the woman's scolding as the words seem to simply roll off of the man's broad shoulders with little more than a shrug, like water beading up and rolling over the feathers of a duck. "Dave and his team left for the outpost this morning, relieving Chris and hers from patrol. He'll be gone a few days, but the boss man is in there. He's waiting to take your debriefing and to welcome our new friends here."
The building is warm and the mouth-watering scent of tangy tomatoes and fried meat teases the air and fills each of the captive kids' noses as soon as the door to the building is held open. Triggering each and every belly into a wheezing chorus of chortles, rumbles and a single groaning, whine from AJ as they are marched past one of three long tables, the boy's wide eyes wandering hopefully toward the huge steaming pot simmering away over a low flame in the back.
Despite her hunger, Clementine's heart hammers wildly in her chest as she follows her friends down to the head of the central table where a man is seated surrounded with an array of maps and papers spread across the scratched up surface. There's a half-empty bowl of beans pushed to one side as his head bows low and he pours himself over one of the maps, pen in hand as he scribbles something onto the paper. As the group treads closer, Clementine can just about make out how its geographical lines are littered with circles and crosses, some city names are even scratched out completely. But the word that catches her eye the firmest is printed on the bottom map, the one barely over-lapped by another, a map of the state of Virginia with the word RICHMOND aggressively circled in red ink.
The sudden roar of panic thrumming in her ears deafens her for a moment, her vision unable to tear itself from the one word that throws itself, along with the hazy memories of a man and his family who fought tooth and nail for each other as well as for her. A man, his brother and his nephew who vowed to rebuild the community after overthrowing a tyrannical woman's rule. It takes her a moment for the pulsing fear inside the young teen to calm and quieten enough for her to pick up on the hushed discussion already underway, her attention tuning in partway through a sentence in a voice she barely recognizes.
"-abe and Joey with him. David has plans to re-secure the western outpost after that last herd swept through, that'll help strengthen our borders if Jo-"
The man's head has lifted during Clementine's distraction and now the teen can see him clearly. His chin and cheeks are home to a neatly trimmed scruff, and his brown eyes are warm and soft and so achingly familiar. And then Clementine's brain stutters for a moment as the pieces finally click into place and her eyes widen, taking in far more light than she expected, distorting the man's familiar features. Every part of her stalls out, caught between not able to process what is happening and processing too fast for her to comprehend.
"Oh, my god… Ja-"
Her belly suddenly churns, fighting the terribly nauseating need to vomit. Her heart jumping rhythmically in her throat when recognition floods the chocolate brown eyes of the man staring back at her in disbelief. A man she had never thought she'd see again and who clearly never imagined he'd see her alive either.
Slowly, he blinks and swallows, his adam's apple bobbing tight in his throat as Javier pushes himself to his feet and steps closer to the teen, his fingers tremble as he reaches out to gently touch the girl's shoulder. "Clem?"
Clementine jerks herself backwards, dancing out of the mans reach, her heel coming down hard on Violet's instep as she jumps away from his touch. She barely even registers the blonde girl's startled yelp as she just stands there, trembling with a mix of emotion, fear and outrage and tries desperately to understand what she's seeing.
"I-I don't… Javi? Wha-" She shakes her head once, her teeth sinking into the inside of her cheek as she closes her eyes and shakes her head harder. "You… You're with the Delta? But… Richmond?"
"I'm not with the Delta, Clem. I am the Delta." There's conflict in Javi's eyes as they find and hold Clementine's eye line. Warring beneath the warm browns is a battle between sorrow and conviction as he takes in a long, steadying breath. "Richmond has fallen, Clementine. Joan took it back, and now Joan is bringing them to war."