The Walking Deth - Part I

An Unexpected Journey - Chapter VI

Duets

AN: Clichés clichés, so many clichés.

I watched over my shoulder as Daryl toed out of his boots and crawled into the bed behind me. He put his warm and heavy arm over mine, and pulled me in to the comforting curve of his body. The warmth and smell of him enveloped me, dragging me into a welcome sense of safety. I wished I wasn't wearing the sweater so I could feel the touch of his skin against mine. It seemed like forever since we had held each other while naked.

He started stroking his hands along my arms and made his way down to my forearms and then along my wrists. He trailed his fingers over my wristbands and over the bumpy ridges of the scar from where I had cut myself with the piece of broken mirror back at the farm. I flinched away slightly at the touch, not because it hurt, but because no one had ever touched me there before.

"Does that still hurt?" He asked.

"No, not for a long time." I replied.

"I didn't mean the scar, I meant losin' your mom, losin' your family?"

I let out a long thoughtful sigh. "I know what you meant Daryl."

It had been two years since I had lost the farm, lost my mom, my brothers and Jimmy. It hurt like hell at first, but then I learnt to just continue on with life, you had to let the past go or it would just consume you. I would always think of them, but the pain was gone. The pain of losing my dad and Maggie however was still lingering.

I pulled away from him a little and rolled over to face him, propping my hand under my head and looking down on him.

"Roll over." I instructed.

He raised a curious eyebrow at me, most likely clueless of my intentions, and then obligingly rolled over exposing his broad and muscled back to me.

I closely inspected his tattoos. Two winged demons reaching out for each other. I wondered what it had meant. Maybe it was supposed to represent him and Merle, the older brother pulling the younger to the darkness. It porbably didnt mean anything as sentimental as that. It was more likely to be something he got when he was younger under the pressure of Merle.

I looked over the pinkish ridges that were lined all over his back, and gently ran my fingers along them, tracing them like they were a connect the dot. I wondered how they had happened. A whip or a belt, or maybe a switch. They were too deliberate to be from some kind of hunting accident.

"I don't think you ever told me how you got these."

His shoulders suddenly tensed and I stopped tracing the lines.

"Was my dad." He finally said.

The words sounded new to him, like he had never spoken them before.

"Your dad did this?"

"Mmm hmm." He mumbled.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked, wondering if he would know I meant it the same way he did. His shoulders rose as he took in a deep breath and then blew it out slowly.

"No" He replied calmly. Was he telling the truth? Could he get over that kind of abuse so easily?

"Took me a while to realise it, but my dad was jus' some sad, old drunk who liked to beat up on weak kids. He was pathetic. As I got older I just pitied him. I didn't hate him. I dont really think about it, and when I do it doesn't hurt. It's just somethin' in my past, that happened and I can't do nothin' about it."

Was that the truth? Or was that Daryl pushing his feelings away.

Daryl had a lot of scars. Some of them he had got from when I had known him, some of them were older. I traced over the smaller circular scar that was on his side. That had been from back at the farm. He had taken Nervous Nelly out and she had thrown him down a cliff and he had managed to shoot himself with a crossbow bolt.

He had a large scar on his forehead just below his hairline. That was from back at the prison when we were trying to clear away pallets to give the kids space to play. One had fallen and caught him in the head. It was a deep cut and daddy had to stitch him up.

There were deep scars on his forearm, where he claimed he had got in to a fight with a bobcat while hunting. He said he had won, but he didn't bring the bobcat home. I wasn't sure I would be too keen on eating bobcat meat anyway.

He had scars littered all over his face, over his abdomen on his arms. I started rubbing every one of them wondering where they had come from.

"If you're gonna ask me the story behind all my scars, I'm gonna have to go back out there and hunt some more, to stockpile for the winter."

"I guess the pain heals in time, but the scars never go away." I said softly, putting to words my earlier thoughts.

Now I was thinking about the more raw pain that was still fresh on my body around my wrists and ankles, and in my memories of what had happened, and what could have happened, back at the warehouse. There was an emptiness inside me, that I felt the urgent need to be filled, and I felt as if it could only be filled by Daryl.

"Time helps." Daryl agreed with me. He was watching my face and probably reading my thoughts again.

I ran my hand over his waist touching the bundles of muscle that grew down over his hips reaching down below into his jeans. I moved my hands up to the front of his abdomen, feeling the firm muscle covered with a soft layer of cushioning, then up to his chest and tangled my fingers through the fine greying hairs there. I pushed myself through my sweater in to his back imagining the touch of his skin against my breasts. I dropped my head down and gently placed a kiss on the warm skin of his shoulder. My mind was completely gone from the pain of the warehouse and it was now focused on the pulsating heat developing between my legs.

"You can help." I breathed into his neck, hoping he would get the message of what I wanted, and not be scared to give it to me.

He rolled back against me and I shifted out of the way. He wrapped his arm under my neck and put his hand to my shoulder and pulled me down so my head was rested in the crook of his neck.

"I can try". He replied. But the way he was gently stroking my shoulder made me think he didn't quite know what I was implying.

I reached my hand over to his shoulder and squeezed on to the firm muscle. I wrapped my leg around his waist and pushed myself in against his hip. The pressure of his body against mine released some of the tension that was building down below, but not all of it. I lifted my face to his and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, and pulled away to speak to him.

"I need you to help me now." I whispered.

His eyes widened, and I think he finally go the message.

"I think -" he started.

Don't you dare reject me now Daryl Dixon.

"You think what?" I said trying not to sound hurt.

"I think we need more time for that too."

That was not the response I was looking for, but I half expected it. Daryl was rough around the edges, but he was an honourable and respectful man. However there was a part of me that thought he just didn't want to touch me - because Len had been so close.

"You don't want me anymore?" I said looking down on his face.

"No it's not that."

I pulled away from him and rolled on my back staring up at the ceiling and trying not to cry like a spoilt child who had lost her favourite toy. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down on my face.

My eyes glanced over to him and I could feel the tears starting to brim. I was ruined in his eyes, what we had for such a short time was lost.

"It is that." I said quietly. "You don't want to touch me after you saw me with - him." I gave a gulp.

He reached over and stroked my cheek, then cupped it in his hand and turned my face towards his.

"I don't - but not for the reasons you're thinkin'."

"What reason then?" I could feel my eyes glaring. Be gently Beth, it's not his fault.

"Don't think what you want will help none. Think it might make it worse."

"How could it?"

"Dunno, maybe it'll bring it all back to you. The way you felt - then."

I screwed up my face thinking about what I felt then. It was not how I felt now. There was no yearning, there were not pangs of desire growing in my belly and screaming for release between my legs.

"Nothing really happened back there. It was a horrible experience, but it could have been worse. - Even if it was worse it wouldn't be the same as what we had." I tried to reassure him.

He lowered his eyes.

"What happened back there wasn't sex. It was just him trying to take something away from me, my dignity, my worth."

I took his hand, that was holding my cheek, in both of my hands and began rubbing my fingers along it, over his palm up his own fingers and in between them.

"You give me something Daryl. You give me comfort, you give me hope, you make me happy."

Deliriously happy.

"I want you to make love to me." I suggested, letting the words slip of my tongue as if they were satin on silk.

I saw him flinch a little.

I knew that it was the wrong phrase to use, Daryl didn't have much experience with the word, and even though what I had meant was just to have sex, he was reading more in to it.

He caught his breath as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind.

I waited for his response.

"I don't know how." He finally confided.

I raised my brows in amusement.

"You don't know how?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not really."

"Well what were you doing before?" I asked, my face twisted in confusion.

He lowered his eyes a little, and it was confirmed to me that he did think I was talking about love. I had never really loved anyone before. Except in a platonic way. But I guessed it would feel something like what I felt for Daryl. I was pleased that he wasn't trying to deny me or push me away. Maybe he was feeling the same way about me, but with his history there was no way he would know how to show it.

"Maybe that's something that I can teach you." I suggested, as I reached up and stroked along his jawline and his chin, rubbing my fingers through the coarse hair on his face.

"You're less experienced than me." He pointed out.

"Not in how to love."

His wide eyed look told me that he understood what I meant.

I ran my hands through his hair until my fingers were touching at the back of his head and then urged his face down to my mouth. His breath was warm and familiar, and the bitter taste of him was exhilarating.

He ran his own hands over my shoulder and down my arms to my waist, over my backside and down to my thighs. He pushed his hands under my sweater, grabbing the bottom of it and tugging it up. I lifted my body up and helped him to take it over my head and then throw it to the floor. I went straight back to kissing him. Pressing my breasts against his chest, and relished in the searing sensation of his flesh against mine. He let out a shallow groan and I knew he felt it too.

I ran my hands over his shoulders and back, running my fingers along the raised scars back and forth, rubbing him firmly and pulling him in to my arms. My strokes made their way down to his lower back and then my fingers tucked down the back of his jeans slipping in between the denim, and grasping his firm backside in my hand and giving it a squeeze. My hand then slipped around to the front and brushed against the end of him. I lingered there for a moment. Exploratively I pressing my thumb over the smooth bulbous end, and then started stroking down the shaft. He groaned into my mouth, and I laughed gently back in to his.

I started working on his belt, pulling it open and loosening it in the loops. I fumbled with the button and fly of his jeans while he stroked along my backside and over my thighs. He lightly skimmed over the hot, wet spot between my legs, tickling me and making me squirm in delight.

I forced his shoulder down on to the bed and then rolled to kneel beside him and started tugging down on his jeans. He helped me to pull them down, off his legs and then toss them aside.

I wrapped a hand around his shaft and then leant in to kiss him. He ran his hand along my back and to my backside, pulling me towards him. I was giving him firm, long strokes, and he had grown rock solid in my hand. I wanted him inside me, and I thought I would lose my mind if I waited anymore.

"Girl, you best stop pullin' on me or it'll be over before it's started." He cautioned.

He had obviously been thinking the same thing as me.

I threw my leg over and then guided him to my entrance, letting out a moan as he pushed himself inside, gliding through my wetness. My muscles gripped deliciously around him, and I felt them spasm in desire.

He was looking up at me holding on to my thighs that were straddled over him. I was grinding my hips around relishing in the sensation of him moving around inside me. He ran his hands up over my waist and to my ribs and then placed them over my breasts, and rubbed them firmly but gently.

I lent down to kiss him, and placed my arms under his shoulders and started pulling him up, wanting him to be close to me. He gave into my pressure and sat up moving his hands back to my waist. I shifted my legs wrapping them around his waist, while I sat connected to him in his lap.

He was kissing my collar bone and neck and I had my head arched back groaning in pleasure. When I had gained some kind of control over my body I pulled his face away and held it in-between my hands. I wanted to see his face, look into his eyes, make sure that he was here with me, and stop myself from going back to the bad place I had been in before.

"Look at me." I murmured.

He did as he was told with an initial look of childlike uncertainly on his face, that eventually gave way to a look of yearning and desire. I let out a groan as the intense look he gave me sent a new type of thrill through my body. The way his face was gently contorting around the eyes and lips was delectably tantalizing.

I continued to grind my hips around, rolling myself over his hips. He had a firm hold of my back, supporting the weight of my upper body. I was moaning and he was groaning and we were both fighting the urge to squeeze our eyes shut.

I finally gave in and closed my own eyes and mashed my lips into his, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He did the same while thrusting his hips upwards meeting with my rolls.

I was moaning uncontrollably into his mouth and he moved his lips away gasping for air, then resting them on my cheek. I could feel that tears had rolled down from my eyes, and he was pressing his lips against them and touching them lightly with his tongue.

Our bodies had got into a synchronised motion, rolling and grinding together. Our hands rubbing all over each other, our faces cheek to cheek, our mouths moaning into each others ear.

I could feel him starting to throb inside me, and I thought he had lost control for a moment, but then he threw himself back on the bed, pulling me forward with him, and pushing my legs out to the side. He let out a loud groan and I felt the warmness spurting over my backside.

I collapsed on top of him, my head in the crook of his neck. We were both panting and sweating and placing firm strokes over each others bodies. He reached down to grab the covers and he rubbed them along my backside and then pushed the covers to the side. My panting became softer and the movement of my hands began to slow, my breathing began to regulate and my body gave way to sleep, listening to the soft thumping of his heart.

I woke up to the darkness. It had been the best sleep I had had in days, but my body still felt a little achy and tired. I reached out looking for Daryl so I could curl back into his warmth, but my hand just landed on cold bed sheets.

In the dim light I searched around for the oversized sweater Daryl had found for me and pulled it over my head. I pulled on my socks that were stuffed in to my boots by the side of the bed, being careful with my ankle, which was starting to feel better thanks to Daryl's excellent binding skills.

I limped carefully out of the room and out in to the living area. Daryl was out there sitting by the fire, eyes closed and head tilted back with a light snore escaping his lips. The light from the fire was dancing across his naked chest. His legs were bare too, but he had a towel wrapped around his waist. Our clothes were spread out on the floor by his feet in front of the fire to dry. I went to move over to him to wake him and ask him to come back to the bedroom, but then I noticed the dark figure of Anton standing outside on the porch looking out in to the moonlight.

I decided it was high time I thanked him for everything he had done.

I pushed open the screen door which creaked loudly. Anton turned to face me, and I cautiously pushed the door out further hoping I didn't disturb Daryl with the sound. I ducked through the opening and then eased it back to a close.

"So the dead has risen." Anton said with a grin spreading over his face. He raised his eyebrows in amusement at his own words. "Sorry, bad joke." He chortled.

"Daryl been sleepin' long?" I asked as I approached him and leant over the balustrading of the porch.

"Not so long. He came out of the room a few hours back. Had something to eat, shelled some pecans for you for when you woke up" He thumbed over his shoulder towards the door, indicating to where my pecans must be. "He messed around with that bow of his, sharpened his knife, set up a fire, went and scrubbed them jeans in the bathroom, sat down in the chair and then passed out."

"He must be exhausted." I said to myself. I tried to remember how often he had slept over the last few days. I knew that every time I tossed and turned I had woken him, and I had been tossing and turning a lot. On top of that he had been taking shifts through the night alternating with Anton so he would never really have a whole night's sleep anyway. I wondered how much sleep Anton had during the time we were trudging through the woods.

"Thank you." I blurted out without precursor.

He looked down on me, perhaps waiting for more.

"- For helping us out. I know it was dangerous."

"Don't mention it." He said casually, waving his hand dismissively.

"Don't think I could have done it if I didn't have the help of your man there." He tilted his head back towards the house.

I looked down into the garden and started rubbing my thumbs together nervously. I wasn't even sure if Daryl was my man. After all we had been through, we had never really talked about it, and I didn't think Daryl was the type who wanted to have that type of discussion.

"He is your man right?" Anton queried. He must have been reading my body language.

I kept my eyes downcast thinking more about what the answer was.

"'Cause you know, I walked out there - must have been for miles." He said motioning to the surrounding property.

"And I could still hear you." He started chuckling. I blushed at his brazen reference to my sexual activity.

"Had to hold off the walkers who came runnin'." He was still beaming like he found it all very amusing.

"Stop." I said playfully. I found it quite interesting and a little unnerving that he could talk about such things without showing the least bit of discomfort.

"He takes care of you?" He asked.

"He does. He takes very good care of me."

"Is that why? Do you feel like you owe him somethin'?"

"No!" I said, incredulously.

"I just wonder why a young pretty girl like you would go for old Ebenezer in there."

I went for him for a number of reasons. Because he was family to me, and he made me feel safe. Because he was hopelessly loyal, and I knew I would always be able to rely on him. Because he was crazy sexy with his broad shoulders and well-toned arms, even the way he brooded and scowled was becoming a turn on.

A big part of my attraction to him was because he had taken such good care of me, but did I fell like I owed him? That wasn't why I wanted to be with him, was it? Now Anton had me questioning my own feelings towards Daryl. It made me horribly uncomfortable.

"Let's not talk about it anymore." I suggested.

"Okay." He agreed.

We stood in an uncomfortable silence listening to the night.

It was unnaturally quiet on that night, I couldn't hear anything. Not the rustle of the wind in the trees, or the distant growls of walkers, no cicadas, no frogs.

"It's so calm - so still." I finally said breaking the silence.

Anton gave a low chuckle and then he started humming to himself.

The hum graduated into a doo wup, and then I picked up on the tune and added in my own voice.

In the still of the night
I held you, held you tight

He dropped the doo wop and started harmonising in with my own voice.

'Cause I love, love you so
Promise I'll never let you go
In the still of the night

It seemed like such a cliché thing, singing that song in the still of the night, but I was grateful for the distraction.

"Wow you're a really good singer." I told him. He was amazingly good. He had the type of voice that sent chills through your body and left your skin all goose-pimpled.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."

"It's not usually my style, but everyone knows Boys to men." It was a well-known song, but I only knew who sang it because Maggie liked them when she was younger.

He chuckled to himself, like he knew an inside joke.

"It's Five Satins, not Boys to men." He advised with a hint of gloating.

I flushed a little, ashamed that I didn't know who the original artist of the song was, given my musical background.

He must have noticed the red rise on my skin, because he started trying to make accommodations for me.

"They're a bit before your time."

I looked him over, he didn't look much older than me.

"Before my time? You look like you're from my time."

He regarded me, eyeing me up and down.

"I'm twenty three. You still look like a baby."

"I'm eighteen." I objected.

"Still a baby." He said with an amiable snicker.

I shouldered him and he made an over-exaggerated stumble.

"I guess we're both babies in comparison." He said nodding his head towards the house, obviously referring to Daryl.

I smiled to him, and wondered what Daryl would have thought about that remark. He certainly didn't need any more reminders of how much older he was than me.

"You like the classics?" I said, trying to change the subject again.

"I like anything with a rhythm and a beat." He grinned into the night.

"Were you a singer - before?" I had heard him tell Daryl that he had joined the Navy, but I had thought he had the look of someone who could be famous, an actor or a model. He was definitely attractive enough, and he had a certain confidence and charisma about him. Maybe he could have been famous if none of this happened.

"I sang at church choir, but other than that just for fun."

"Yeah, me too." I agreed.

"You were a church goer?"

"My daddy made me, but I liked goin' anyways."

"Me too." He agreed. "I'm glad he did you know – made me go. When everything went to hell, I knew how to keep faith."

"Me too." I agreed. We both tittered at the repetitive phrase.

"Although my faith has transferred somewhat from God to mankind." He explained.

I looked at him waiting for more.

"When we feel like we're alone in the world, it's the others that give us faith."

I nodded at him and he continued on.

"Just got to keep hopin' and prayin' that there are good people out there still - to help keep you on the right path, or bring you back to it."

He reached out and touched me gently on the shoulder.

"I'm glad I was able to find good people like you. Restore my faith a little."

I touched his hand on my shoulder.

"Me too."

"Me too." he mimicked.

He was watching me now with his soft brown eyes, that squinted a little like he was peering at the sun. A gentle smile was on his wide smooth lips. I studied his face and his body language, the way he was leaning in to me, the way his eyes were searching my face, and I recognised a hint of desire. I felt my own body go rigid when I realised that my body language and facial features were imitating his own.

Jeez Beth what's wrong with you? Your body's still aching and wet from being with Daryl and you're thinking of another man.

I barely even knew this guy. His good looks were turning my brain to mush.

I pulled myself away from him swiftly and backed my way towards the door.

"I got to go back to bed." I said hastily.

I gave a stretch and yawn which was cringeworthingly false, and then quickly dodged back through the creaking door.

Once inside I went over to the table and dipped my hand in the bowl of pecans Daryl had left out for me, I started shovelling them in to my mouth enjoying the buttery flavour and crunchy texture. I was hungry and wished I had have eaten some of that rabbit earlier. I picked the dish up and turned back to go sit by Daryl.

He was now sitting up leaning forward looking into the fire. The sight of him awake startled me. He must have woken when I came back in that stupid creaking door. His eyes looked up at me glaring moodily.

The look was a cold one and it froze me on the spot. He tore his eyes from mine and stared back to the fire. I suddenly wasn't hungry anymore and put the bowl back on the table and moved over to him.

"Somethin' the matter?" I probed.

"Nuh." He muttered.

I hesitated trying to think what I had done to make him act like that. Had he overheard something I said outside? I racked my brain trying to think of exactly how my conversation with Anton went. As long as Daryl couldn't read my thoughts, our conversation seemed harmless.

It wasn't at all unlike Daryl to have his mood swings though, so maybe it was nothing.

He was still staring at the fire avoiding eye contact.

"You gonna come back to bed?" I said, breaking the silence.

"I got some stuff to do."

I looked around at the room, and it him sitting there half naked on the chair.

"Like what?"

"I dunno girl - Things. Jus' lea'me alone."

I took a step back at the snappiness of his reply. I could have probed for more. I could have argued with him. But I didn't think I was going to get far with the mood he was in, so I made my retreat back to the bedroom.

The rest of the night's sleep was broken, I woke several times and reached out under the cool covers searching for Daryl, but he wasn't there. It was a horribly empty feeling. In the bed, and in my heart.

When I got up in the morning Daryl and Anton were both cataloging and packing the bags with whatever extra supplies they had found at the house. Their weapons were resting against the doorway like they were ready to make a quick departure.

"We goin' somewhere?" I asked.

Daryl just looked up at Anton like he wanted him to answer.

"We're gonna head back out over to some train tracks I found while walking around yesterday." Anton answered.

"We are? I thought we might stay here a bit. There's food and water, rich earth we could plant some crops on..."

"Daryl thinks we might have somewhere better to go." Anton interrupted and nodded his head towards Daryl.

I looked over at him, shifting around in his bag and waited for him to elaborate.

"Like what?" I finally spoke up when he didn't.

He looked up at me.

"Your sister."

"What do you mean my sister?"

"There was a map down there, by the train lines. Talks about a place called Terminus. It said 'those who arrive survive'" Anton answered.

"I heard somethin' like that when we were out lookin' for medicine after that outbreak at the prison." Daryl finally chimed in. "I figure if the place exists and if the others made it out here, that might be where they are"

I could feel the excitement of hope bubbling in my belly. I bounded happily over to Daryl and gave him a hug. His body was rigid against mine, but that wasn't anything unusual. I pulled myself away and gleamed up at him.

"They'll be there, I know it." I asserted.

He forced a smile on to his face.

The tracks Anton had been talking about were about an hour's walk from the house and when we spotted them I jumped up excitedly and kissed Daryl on the cheek. He just scowled and shouldered me away gently.

I examined the sign that Anton had been talking about, dirt covered and faded, I figured it had been there for a long time. All the tracks were diverging to a central point, the tracks were tendriling out through the area, covering good ground. There was every bit the possibility that the others would come across the train lines, and hopefully across the signs as well.

Anton was sharing in my excitement and he walked along side me as we approached the rails. We stepped between the lines and trudged along, listening to the satisfying plod of the wooden rail ties, and the crunch of the crushed stones below our feet.

With Anton beside me I couldn't help but meet the urge to sing so I started on a Carrie Underwood song I remembered mentioned a train and it seemed fitting.

Last night, I was pouring out my heart
Like a waterfall to you
And with one kiss, I was a runaway train
Flying off the track to you

Anton made me giggle when he pulled his voice in to a high pitched mock of a woman's voice and began belting out the second verse as if it had been one of his favourite songs.

We must have spent hours singing every song we could think of that involved a train, tapping out the beat with our feet on the tracks. Some of them folk songs, some rock songs, some country, some blues the most amusing was when Anton sang a verse from a Fatman scoop remix and began bouncing all over the place, waving his arms in the air and stumbling over the tracks. I hadn't laughed so hard in years. I was having so much fun I didn't even care that we were dawdling along, when before I had been in such a rush to get to our destination.

I felt overwhelmingly guilty when I realised Daryl had been several yards behind us the whole time scowling at us.

I stopped to wait for him, but when he looked up and saw me standing there he stopped himself.

"You keep on goin' there." He said flicking his finger down the train line.

"If I hear another song about train's I'm gonna bash my own skull in with one of these 'ere rocks." He booted into the ground and sent a spray of rocks up and over the rails, tumbling down the slope and catching in the furrow.

We didn't sing anymore after that, but Daryl didn't come any closer.

After about an hour of walking and chatting to Anton about his childhood, Daryl suddenly came up behind us and pushed us off the tracks and up the side of the line into the trees.

"What's going on?" I asked.

He pushed his fingers to his lips telling me to hush.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"I can hear someone, coming up behind us." He whispered back.

Anton carefully placed his bag on the ground and then slipped out his handgun from his holster. Daryl readied his crossbow, and I reached into the sheath by Daryl's side and pulled out his knife.

"Think it could be Joe's guys followin' us?" Daryl whispered to Anton.

"I hope not." Anton whispered back. "If it is, we open fire, no questions."

Daryl held his bow in one hand and put his other arm out back across us, telling us to be quiet and still, while the figures approached.

There was a single figure who approached at first, and then two behind it. The first one looked like a woman. She couldn't be part of Joe's crew, she wasn't tied up.

I crept forward pushing against Daryl's arm as I began to recognise the gait, the clothing, the hair.

"Maggie!" I squealed, pushing through Daryl's arm and half running half tumbling down the embankment, ignoring the pain in my ankle and throwing myself into my sister's open arms.