Chapter 14

Carol was up early. She slipped out of bed and dressed quickly before Daryl even began to stir. She set about packing up supplies for their search. She packed an extra set of clothes for the both of them, just in case, and when she poked her head out the door to check the skies, she noticed the clouds had moved out, and it was going to be a positively beautiful day. It was warm already, and that was a good sign.

She kept her pistol handy as she moved their supplies out to the truck, and when she came back in, she could hear Daryl stirring around in the bedroom. She chewed her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before heading back to see him. Her stomach felt jumpy as she silently crept toward the door. When she peeked in, she saw him peering out the curtains, his back toward her. In the dim morning light, she could just make out a large tattoo on his shoulder as well as long, pale scars. They looked like whipping scars. Her heart jumped at the sight, and she tried not to make a sound.

His head moved quickly, gently back and forth, as if he was in disagreement with something, but it took her only moments to realize that he was searching for something—for her.

"I'm here," she murmured. He turned quickly, relief filling his face as he saw her leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. She saw him swallow hard a couple of times, his hands twitching nervously at his side before he pulled his shirt over his head.

"You're up early," was what he settled for, and she was silently thankful that he hadn't questioned why she wasn't there when he woke. She could see his face burning a little brighter than usual, and she tentatively crossed the room to close the gap between them.

"The truck's loaded up. We should eat and set out," she said softly, reaching out for his hand. He gave her fingers a little squeeze, and his gaze sought hers. She saw the questions behind his eyes, the worries, the wonderings, and she stood on her tip toes to gently press her lips against his. "Thank you," she murmured.

"What'd I do?" he asked. He saw the blush fill her cheeks, and she blinked a few tears back.

"You made me feel safe," she whispered. A little smile tugged at his mouth, and he leaned down to press his lips against hers again. She pulled her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him as his hands moved to rest against her hips.

"You're safe with me," he promised. She kissed him, humming softly against his lips. Finally, she pulled away.

"Come on. Let's find something to eat." Daryl nodded and followed Carol into the kitchen to scrounge around for something to tide them over for their journey today.

Carol checked and re-checked her pistol as Daryl drove toward the site where the old cabin was. She had one knife tucked down her boot and another one with finger grips ready to tuck into her belt when she got out of the truck.

"I say we stick together. Splittin' up's only gonna make us weaker," Daryl suggested. "We start at the cabin, start where you found her headband." Carol nodded, picking at the headband she'd wrapped around her wrist. "We make a wide circle, check for any sign. We'll look for tracks, see if anything didn't get washed away with the storm."

"If she's still alive," Carol began, the words thick and bitter on her tongue, "she'd look for shelter. She'd look for any place to hide."

"We'll check the houses that line the edge of the woods. We'll check fallen, hollow trees. If she's out there, we'll find her." His knuckles were white against the steering wheel. "I ain't gonna give up." Carol reached across the seat and put her hand on his arm, giving it a little squeeze.

Carol felt her heart begin to race as they started up the winding road to the old cabin. When the charred ruins of their home came into view, her nerves began to get the better of her. She began to tremble, and Daryl pulled the truck into park next to the old well. The tackle box remained where he'd left it two days ago.

"You ready?" he asked, dropping the keys into the breast pocket of his button down shirt.

"Yeah," Carol said breathily, her eyes glassy with emotion as she surveyed the area before them. She didn't want to think about what they could find out there or what they might not find. It was all too much for her heart to take, and her mind wasn't quite ready to accept that they very well might not find anything out there. Sophia could just be gone. Taken in by the woods, forever lost. Daryl grabbed his crossbow out of the back of the truck, while Carol tucked a few extra bullets in each pocket. She secured her bigger knife in the front of her belt with her shirt tucked behind it, just in case she needed to make a grab for it. Daryl handed her a small pack with some bottled water and beef jerky inside, and she slung it over her shoulder, while he put a pistol in the back of his pants.

Daryl let Carol lead the way to the spot where she'd found Sophia's headband hanging from the tree. It only took a few moments for Carol to spot the low branch it had been hanging on, and when they stopped, Daryl secured his crossbow over his shoulder and climbed up a ways to get a better view of the area.

Carol checked around the tree, looking for any other sign of Sophia having been there. She came up lacking, and when Daryl climbed back down, he nodded for her to follow him.

"Saw some tracks this way." He led her until they came across the clear path where there were very evident tracks from what looked like sneakers. "See how they're spaced out? Looks like somebody was runnin'. Don't look like walkers to me." He saw the struggle in Carol's eyes. She was trying to hold onto hope, but trying not to get those hopes too high.

"Sophia was wearing sneakers," Carol murmured.

"Let's check it out," he offered. Carol nodded, and they began to follow the tracks, being careful not to get their tracks mixed in with the ones they were following. They would need a clear starting place to come back to should they have to start all over again.

They followed the tracks for close to an hour before they tapered off near a clearing in the woods. There was an old shack, probably abandoned since the fifties or sixties and barely still standing. Carol was the first to spot it, and as soon as she did, she took off running.

"Hey!" he called out, his cries barely above a whisper. She didn't look back. She just kept running, so he drew his crossbow into his hands and brought up the rear, keeping an eye out for walkers. This clearing looked like the perfect place for a herd to come strolling through when they least expected it.

Carol pressed her ear against the shack's door, and she tapped lightly on it. Hearing nothing moving around, she eyed Daryl before calling out.

"Sophia?" Silence. Her heart sank, and she tried the knob. It squeaked on its rusted spring, and she pushed it open, peering in as the sunlight began to filter in. All that was inside was a makeshift cot and a few old cans of beans.

Daryl ducked inside the shack and looked at the cans, noting how the inside of the cans were damp, as if they'd only been opened a little while ago.

"Somebody was here. But they ain't here now." He stood and moved toward her, when he saw her lip quiver. "Hey, we're just gettin' started, a'right?" She nodded, and she took a few deep breaths before following him back outside. "If it was Sophia, she could still be close. We ain't givin' up. Let's keep goin', see if we can find anything." She only nodded, tucking her hands into her pockets as she walked next to him. He could see she was running all the possibilities through her head, and he hated that he knew that reassuring her would only make it worse. She didn't need false hope. She just needed to search, and that's what he was going to help her do.

They walked a little way in silence. The only sound around them was the crunch of leaves under their shoes and the occasional screech of an owl somewhere deep in the woods. But the longer they walked, Carol noticed the way Daryl tensed and looked to the side every once in a while.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly after several quiet minutes.

"We're bein' followed."

"Walkers?"

"No," he grunted. "Stay back." He got in front of her, raising his crossbow and looking in the direction of the sound he'd been hearing. The faint footfalls had echoed just outside the sound of his. Whoever it was had gotten good at tracking, but not as good as he was.

"Know you're there. Just come on out, nice and slow." Carol ducked out from behind Daryl, standing right at his side.

"It could be Sophia," she whispered.

"Ain't her," he murmured. "She knows our voices. She'd a'come out by now." The leaves on a bush nearby rustled slightly, and they turned just enough to face that direction. "Come on out now, or we'll just start shootin'." Silence. He heard Carol suck in a sharp breath of air, and they took a few steps backward just as a cloaked figure stepped out from the bushes.