I stared up at the stars that filled the night sky. It was so clear that I could see the Milky Way shining bright. I want to say that looking at it filled me with hope and all that good shit, but it didn't. It just brought forth the thoughts of how small we actually were in the world that is actively trying to kill us. Something that so many people wished to see with their own eyes but were too terrified to leave their own town, even for a few days, is now something we see almost every night because so many of us are dead. Nobody to turn on the lights in the city, no cars and factories that create lung seizing smog, and no idiots to set off fireworks that would eventually cause a fire.

The simple things that aren't so simple are gone now. The simple people. The simple errands. The simple jobs. The simple lives... They're all gone, and one of the few things left that are both simple and complex is the stars in the night sky that are so commonly overlooked.

"I can hear you thinkin' from over there, woman." Daryl's southern drawl stopped my downward spiral of thoughts. "So loud for no words said."

"Only thing to do when one can't sleep."

"You never do."

"What?"

"Sleep. You never sleep. 'Least you hardly do."

My head tilted to the side in curiosity. "How do you know that, Dixon?"

He scoffed, "A blind man can see the bags under yer dead-lookin' eyes."

"Yeah, well, you're not lookin' too energized either." I shifted my gaze away from his piercing eyes.

"When was the last time you got some sleep?" He asked. When I shrugged my shoulders, he scoffed. "Bullshit."

"It's true. It's hard for me to sleep, and when I do... The nightmares don't let me sleep for long. It's nothin' new for me."

Daryl fell silent and went back to looking out into the woods, probably because he lost interest in the conversation or something of the sort. It was his turn for watch, so it wouldn't surprise me if watching out for walkers was more interesting than making small talk with a sleep-deprived girl. A few minutes passed before his voice broke through the silence again. "C'mere." He shifted over in the bed of the truck and waved me over.

I stared up at him in confusion for a moment before getting up and walking over to the truck. I had a thin blanket wrapped around my shoulders as I gingerly climbed up next to him, careful of my leg and the severe amount of pain it was in. After I got situated next to Daryl, I stared out at the trees with him.

"Should be bit more comfortable up here... Try'n get some sleep." He told me in a gentle yet stern voice. "Got a long day ahead of us."

A small part of me wanted to say that I wasn't tired and that I'd keep watch with him, but the comfort and warmth that he radiated was more than enough for me to start drifting off into a much-needed sleep

I stared down at the map that was laid out on the hood of Uncle Hershel's truck. We were trying to figure out which direction to take: Head north along the Appalachian trail or south to the coast. Both had their perks and their downfalls. If we went north, we would have more ground to cover and more options to head towards, but groups that might not be friendly. If we went south, there would be fewer groups, but there would be a larger chance of us getting caged in.

For the most part, I paid no mind to what Rick and the others were saying or arguing about. Ever since we all met up on the highway, it's been one fight after the other. What to do, where to go, who should lead... It somehow eventually came down to the sheriff being the unofficial leader, and he has us (namely me, Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog, and Uncle Hershel) figuring out if we should keep heading south or not. I doubt I would have much of an issue with how things are set up if it weren't for the fact that Rick hardly listens to reason. At the end of the day, even though he knows things aren't all on him, he takes the reigns, and "what he says goes."

We're now lost, sitting ducks right on the outskirts of the Indian Springs State Park. Granted, the water is more than drinkable, but both Daryl and I agreed that people would start heading towards the well-known water sources like this lake.

"We should go north," I said for the umpteenth time, my voice broke through the tense silence that followed an argument between Lori and Rick. Both of them are headstrong people, but my gods, they are getting on my last damn nerve. We've been on the road for almost a week, and I'm ready to start knocking heads together. And poor Carl is trying his best to steer clear of them both.

Lori scoffed as she glared in my direction. "What good would that do? There's nothing but hordes of walkers and cities."

"There're ways of gettin' 'round those things." I looked up at her, taking a break from marking possible paths to follow. "'Sides, with the rate things are goin' now, it's only a matter of time 'fore we get boxed in with nowhere to go. At least with headin' north, we have more options of where to go."

"There would be more chances of huntin' up north, too." Daryl came up to the group as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder. He just came back from doing a quick perimeter check. "Vesper's right. Headin' north'll be our best bet."

Rick scratched at his beard, looking deep in thought as he glanced at the map that I was marking. "...We should keep heading south. If it doesn't work out, we'll circle around and head north." His tone was final, and when he walked away to check our supplies with T-Dog, Glenn, and Carol, his decision was even more set in stone.

I spared a quick glance at Daryl before walking off with my uncle towards the tree line. "I know what you're thinkin', Vesper." He said in that all-knowing voice of his. "And I doubt there's any way of talkin' you out of it."

"You make it sound like a bad thing, Uncle Hershel." I let out a breathy chuckle. "Look... Daryl and I wanna take a quick trip into Flovilla for some supplies. There's that repair shop, gas station, and food bank. The less people there are-"

"You're still injured."

"And yet I'm still one of the best runners, and I'm the one who works best with Daryl. T-Dog is a good muscle man but is not quick on his feet like Glenn. And Glenn..." I glanced over to the man who will probably be my cousin-in-law sometime soon, "He's still in that puppy-dog love stage. Both of 'em are." I looked back up to my uncle. "I wouldn't be suggestin' goin' if I wasn't sure."

He breathed out a heavy sigh. "And what about Rick? He's been very opinionated and hard-fast in his rules. Do you think he'll let both of his best people go?"

"Oh, Uncle Hershel... You know me better than anyone," For the first time in a while, I actually smiled. "I don't really do the whole 'let me' thing."