Piranha

by ThomE.Gemcity-06

AU/canon-divergences Maggie has a twin brother named Marshall. /"If this were a movie, this would be the part where we tell you to keep this to yourself or I'll push you off the edge of the hayloft and let the piranha keep your silence. I know from experience that it's hard to hear you scream from back at the farmhouse."/WARNINGS:violence/blood&gore/SophiaLives/eventual slash/

7. Chapter 7: Breadcrumbs

Start: 03-03-2024
Finish: 04-06-2024
Word Count: 22,608

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: /"I wish you were my dad." The confession fell onto fevered ears./

Chapter Includes/Spoilers/WARNINGS: canon-typical violence, animal death, live bait, injury, blood and gore, angst, piranha action, possible canon-character OOCness?, implied child molestation

...The walking DEAD...

Piranha

---

Chapter 7: Breadcrumbs

The breaking dawn through the woods could almost be considered peaceful—if it weren't for the decaying ghouls that could pop out from behind any shadowed tree at any moment—but the sunrise was a blessing that helped expose those little hidey-holes before it was too late. Beth and Athena had gotten away, but without his partner, it was like Marshall was walking around with a lost sense, not to mention he was dealing with the repercussions of his gunshot wound:

Patricia's blood still stained the calluses of his palm, the sight of her just bodily throwing herself at the incoming piranha still flickered behind his eyelids every time he blinked.

Already bitten, already gone, she'd used herself as distraction—like Marshall had Randall, like Shane had Otis—like live bait that squealed and struggled and bled. The caterwauling still echoed in his ears. Of his auntie being torn apart and eaten alive. Of a 12-year-old girl witnessing it. Of his little sister realizing what was happening. Of a partner unable to rescue. It had been a miracle and a half that Marshall had managed to grab the sobbing Sophia into his arms, muffle her cries, and slip through all the grabbing hands—the miracle of that bloated piranha exploding all over him like a puss filled boil.

It didn't last long, with Sophia's crying, his heavy panting, rushing speed and bleeding wound, but gave him enough of a pocket to slip from the main writhing mob before he full out hauled ass across the farm and to the stables. He managed to get the doors closed and secure them from the inside before the hungry started banging at the door. He started turning on some hung lanterns to light the darkened stables.

The horses had already been wary and nervous of the gunshots so close on the farm, but the clamouring rasps, scratching nails, clacking teeth, insistant banging against the mere planks of wood that separated them—and such a putrid, suffocating scent of death that they brought with them, especially in a large group like this—caused the sensitive and intuitive animals even more distress. It did not help that Marshall wouldn't be smelling like himself right now. He dunked his hands in a water bucket for a quick scrub to try and remedy that a little. He only had minutes before they broke through the door and into the stable, but he already knew what he had to do, it was just a matter of getting it done.

"Marshall?!" Sophia cried out scared, jumping and skittering away as Nelly was kicking up a ruckus in her stall—literally. Whinnying and rearing, back legs kicking at her stall wall. Marshall knew personally exactly how powerful those kicks of hers were.

Marshall took her by the shoulders and steered her away and toward the far stables. "She's just scared, Sophia, like you. We can't stay here for long, so while I saddle-up, I need you to grab the hiking bag in the cat stall for me, okay?"

"What about the kittens?!" Sophia gaped. They could hear the frightened mews now that they were closer to the stall. "We can't just leave them here, they'll die!"

"Fine." After how their night was going, how it was about to suffer even more soon, he really didn't want to have to dead kittens on his conscious. It would also keep her busy and out of the way as he rushed around. "There's a carrier in the stall if you can manage to get them in it, but there's no time to waste, so if you haven't done it by the time I'm done..." he warned her. She nodded frantically, quickly jumping over the low board that blocked the gateway as he quickly went into the gear stall. He'd deal with actually having to carry around noisy felines in the apocalypse later.

As much as he wanted to take them all with him, he knew he only had time to kit up two—and even that was pushing it. All the neighing and fussing by the horses made sure that the piranha knew there were living meals to be had on the other side of those simple planks of wood. There was no time for caution with his injury, there was just move and do, and he needed both his arms to do that.

He hauled out two tack sets to have ready at the rail by the doors at the 'backside' of the stable, before holding his shoulder as he ran back down the lane. Boomer's stall was closest to the rattling doors opposite of Nelly and despite his typically unruffled demeanour, it was understandable that in this unprecedented situation even he was agitated. Therefore, it wasn't a surprise the dappled stallion was distrustful when Marshall opened the stall gate and stepped in. Boomer stamped the ground with his front hooves, snorting and shaking his large head in warning.

Marshall held his palms out, approaching cautiously. "C'mon, Boo-Boo, it's just me." Boomer was far more powerful than him, so despite the urgent situation, if the steed didn't like his approach, he could simply plough right through Marshall and out the stall. His hands might have been cleaner than before, but all the other piranha gunk was so overwhelming it didn't really make a difference. Humming would just be drowned out by the hammering piranha, his voice, too, unless he shouted, but he continued cooing and talking anyways as he continued to inch forward.

Marshall managed to grasp the side of the bridle, stroked his muscled neck with his injured arm. Boomer threw his head, snorting. Marshall pressed closer, pressed his chest against the broad right side of Boomer's, humming and cooing. "It's still me. I know I smell dead, but it's still me, Boomer." Boomer nickered at him questioningly. "Yeah, it's me!" He smiled, stroking his face. "C'mon, we gotta go." He clicked his tongue, stepping backward. After a moment, Boomer followed his out, ears and tail flicking. Marshall released the bridle and with an encouraging pat on the rump, sent him down the lane as he stopped in front of another stall.

Hopscotch.

While Hopscotch hadn't been off the main farm and exposed to piranha like Boomer had, she was still the best choice for a tag-along. She was a show and sport pony, she was used to loud crowds and large groups of strangers. He took the lead hanging outside her stall and slowly opened the stall door... yeah, Hopscotch didn't like the look and scent of him even more than Boomer. She was backed into the corner, stamping her hooves, throwing her head and whinnying in warning. She almost managed to bite him a couple times, but Marshall managed to clip the tether to Hopscotch's bridle without ripping his shoulder from the socket. Contradictory to her previous struggle, the familiarity of it seemed to calm her down some.

Marshall walked backwards, and with encouraging sounds and words, a guiding strength behind the tether, Hopscotch tentatively stepped from the perceived safety of her stall. She resisted momentarily at the sudden exposure of the laneway, the banging piranha rattling the walls, the agitation of the other horses, but seemed more willing at the sight of Boomer, and the fact that she was allowed further away from the main source of the jarring cacophony. Marshall patted her neck and hitched her tether so couldn't go anywhere, but made the ultimate decision to saddle Boomer first. If something happened before they were ready, it was Boomer they'd flee with and while Marshall could ride bareback no problem, it was easier to have a saddle with Sophia.

He was finishing with the cinch on Hopscotch's saddle when Sophia finally made her appearance. She dragged the board that blocked the entrance away and heaved out the pack first. It was more so a struggle than with Daryl's crossbow, had to weigh at least 50 pounds. Marshall knew that if he was ever in a situation that put him here at the stables and in need of that bag, it was because he literally had nothing to his name—which was the current case—so it was filled veritable replica of his personal arsenal.

She set it down with relief, panting. "That's heavy!"

"I know, thank you." From the second that Marshall got a glimpse of her, she looked more ruffled now than fighting and running from piranha, the most prominent feature were the scratches on her thin, bare arms. It was proof enough though that she'd actually managed to get the cats back into the bag. His shoulder was beyond hurting as he hauled the pack up and secured it to a shifting Hopscotch's saddle, but there was no time to pause and cry about it.

"I'm gonna grab the carrier." She turned back into the stall before he could say anything else, so there wasn't the chance that he could tell her no.

He could hear the frantic, frightened meowing from both mother and kittens that did not appreciate being stuffed in a small dark place with all this scary ruckus going on. Sophia set the shifting carrier down before she managed to drop it.

"Come on, put this on." Marshall grabbed the riding jacket that Beth had left out on a hook, and held it open for her. Sophia quickly slipped her arms in the sleeves and zipped the front closed all the way to the top of the collar. She felt instantly more safe in the unfamiliar, slightly big jacket than she had been in just her jean overalls and a t-shirt. "And up you go." He picked the 12-year-old up and onto Boomer first as he started to hear splintering behind them and he wasn't sure if it was the piranha finally breaking the doors down or Nelly breaking through the back wall of her stall with all her own kicking. "Just hold on here." He guided her hands to the front of the saddle.

Hopscotch nickered, mane flipping at the squirming, loud, carrier tied to her saddle, ears flickering. He switched the tether from the hitch and to Boomer's saddle so she'd be forced to follow instead of being allowed to break off once those doors opened.

"Where are you going?!" Sophia cried out in panic when she saw him run back down the lane instead of mounting behind her. "Marshall!"

Marshall didn't have time to try and answer her, they were already out of it. The abused doors were splintering, grabbing hands reaching though, the hinges cracking from their anchors. The hungry sounds picked up at the sight of their prey, and it set the horses off anew as Marshall starting unlocking stall gates.

Nelly reared up, her front hooves busting her stall gate herself before he could decide whether to risk opening it himself as piranha started pushing through the gapes in the broken boards, gouging off chunks of rotted flesh and tearing at clothing to no effect to their pursuit. He bolted back down the lane, managing to unlock the last 2 stalls with a barely a pause as he passed before he made it to back door. He threw off the latch and pushed open the doors with his uninjured shoulder, taken by surprise when a piranha stumbled through the gap.

"Shit!" He managed dodge away, back pressed against the door, inadvertently opening it further to the possible threat of more piranha. The piranha stumbled heedless toward Hopscotch, who, in fright, whinnied and reared back, front legs kicking. When she dropped back down, it was into the caved-in chest cavity. She quickly attempt to stepped away from the still-reaching corpse, but the tether pulled her the opposite way back toward Boomer. She danced back across the piranha, managing to cave its head in with a lucky placed hoof before bumping into the stallion's side. The two horses huffed at each other. Sophia tightened her grip on Boomer's saddle.

The ruckus had been so loud on the other side of the stables that he hadn't heard any of the scratching on this side! An oversight on his part, one that nearly gotten him killed. Marshall quickly scanned the darkness outside the stable, the sun had long passed below the horizon and the waned moon didn't give them much despite the clear midnight sky, leaving nothing but dangerous dark night before them. He could make out shadows moving in the darkness, drawn by the new activity and noise. Marshall went to Boomers free side, stepping onto a crate to give him better leverage than trying to heave himself up into the saddle with his injury—when the animalistic screaming started.

Nelly. He knew it had to be Nelly. As frightened and erratic as she had been to bust down her own stall door, Marshall didn't think she would have even left given the chance. It might have been better to just leave the gate locked, leave her with some kind of barrier, and hope she managed to kick out the back wall of her stall instead and escape out that way. As it was, she condemned herself to a faster, yet painful death in her own stall.

"What's happening?!" Sophia asked frantically as Marshall quickly mounted on the saddle behind her.

He reached around her and grabbed the reins, kicking his heels into Boomer's ribs to spur the horse into movement. "Don't look!" Marshall told her, but it didn't really matter—there was no way to block out the pained and frightened screams. "Hold on, it's gonna get rough." He warned the girl.

Marshall had wanted to give the horses a chance to escape, but also knew that he and Sophia would never be able to escape a group that size trapped in the stables—not without the option of distraction. He guessed it worked out in the end the way it was supposed to. Live Bait was good like that—squealing, squirming, bleeding... alluring.

The two horses shout out into the open night, unmolested by the feasting herd behind them. Marshall pressed the two horses hard across the open field until the tree line. Both horses breathed heavily, their breath misted in the cool night air. Marshall handed Sophia his small flashlight to point ahead and light the way for Boomer as they entered the dark woods. It was an easy walk, he couldn't risk going faster and end up with a lamed horse.

They'd put some distance between the piranha in the field they galloped through, but unless something bigger caught their attention and distracted them, the piranha would eventually catch up—especially with the slower pace the foursome was forced to take. Any that lingered in the woods, Marshall couldn't resort to his gun unless an emergency because it would just draw more piranha in, his hatchet had too short a reach from up in the saddle. He'd managed to jury-rig a strap on the saddle to holster a scythe he'd grabbed from the stable when saddling Boomer, and while it gave him good reach from up on the horse, it was a two-handed physical weapon, he was a little wary trying to swing it around in the trees.

Marshall knew they needed to pause so he could take a look at his shoulder, but they needed to find a safe-ish place to do that with the horses and it wasn't here. He wanted to put some distance between them and the farm first, though. God. His home was forfeit, the farm finally taken by the apocalypse like so many other, more important things. Their groups were mixed and scattered. Beth and Athena with T-Dog and Lori, and Maggie was probably with Glenn. Daddy- Marshall didn't want to think about him screaming on the porch steps like auntie had as the piranha tore her apart. He didn't even have the chance to kill her mercifully so she didn't have to suffer through all that pain.

The flashlight beam shook and bounced around the trees at every little rustle of leaves, any flicker of shadow or unexpected animal noise. Marshall put a hand on her arm, making her jump and jerk back against him. He winced as his injured shoulder was knocked. He murmured, "Easy, butterfly. I know you're amped on adrenaline right now, but you need to just take a deep breath. You did really good back there, Sophia. You didn't freeze and you stuck to task. You did exactly what I needed you to do in order for me to be able to get us out of there. Deep breath, okay? The horses can feel your stress and it makes them stressed. We're out of the woods for now, so steady beam ahead so the horses can see." He instructed softly.

"Okay." Her whispered voice cracked a little, but she took some deep breaths and her shaky hold of the light steadied ahead.

The cats had gone quiet in the carrier but for the occasional questioning meow from Patches, and hungry or frightened mews that echoed from the 3 kittens. Marshall's green-eyes were in constant motion, ears trained to any noise that might be following them. Piranha could be as dead-quiet as they could be loud and excitable, that bloated piranha that nearly took him out could attest to that. Despite the ability to make a quick exit, they were still exposed and vulnerable, left weak because of Marshall's injury.

Marshall was working off of adrenaline and will at the moment. It'd been a while since he'd eaten or drunken water, his body was aching and pained and begging for rest that he couldn't give it. His tired vision was limited in the dark, and hard straining his ears and distinguish between actual and perceived sounds. For all he knew, there was a little hunting pack of piranha on their trail just outside of his hearing range, a range that Athena would have exceeded. But as much as he wished to have his partner trailing along beside them, he felt better knowing that she was watching his little sister's back instead. Beth could only think that they were dead and worried over what kind of mental state she was in right now. The horses, however, were a nice little warning system. Aside from general body language, he paid particular attention to Boomer's ears for this, catching each little flicker and twitch. God, he really hoped that little hunting pack was just his imagination feeding off his anxiety.

"Marshall?" Marshall gave a short hum in acknowledgment for the girl to continue. "Do you...?" Sophia stopped and swallowed. He didn't press her to continue, he already had a suspicion of what she may ask. He wouldn't lie to her, though. "Do you th-think everyone else g-got out? My m-mom?"

"I don't see why not." He assured her. "We were in a pretty bad position back there, but look at us now? We already know that Beth, Athena, T-Dog and Lori made it out. You're mama's as tough as you. And Daryl once told me that nothing can kill a Dixon but Dixon, so he basically invulnerable. I know we got separated from Rick and Carl, but I have learned that Grimes' are tough people. But we won't truly know until we find them." He admitted.

"How are we supposed to do that?"

Marshall sighed. "I know it seems like a daunting task right now, but we just need to focus on one thing at a time. We need to circle around the farm, get out these woods, and find the road. Everyone else got out in cars so wandering through the woods won't do us any good. Maybe we'll get lucky. Dawn is only a few more hours away, we'll stop then, give the horses a rest, get our bearings. Alright?"

"Yes." The girl whispered.

...

Sophia had since fallen asleep to the gentle rocking of the horse, leant back against his chest. Marshall had taken the flashlight from her laxing fingers before she could drop it, keeping it perched on his right thigh. There hadn't been a piranha sighting since they left the field and entered into the woods, but he was still cautious and wary. Just because the chasing herd hadn't seemed to catch up, didn't mean they wouldn't run into any strays that wondered around in the woods.

Dawn was finally breaking through the overhead foliage and he manage to click off the switch. His fingers had locked into their position, they hadn't been spasming or anything, weren't tingling, but they felt maybe a bit swollen. He didn't even deign to try and stow the flashlight away again. He'd gone stiff with the last few hours at lack of movement, though he had yet to actually check, he knew any bleeding from the popped stitches had stopped, but it was going to be horrible when he had to move again. He fought the urge to roll his shoulder experimentally because he knew it would simply just cause undue pain to flare right back up to the surface, when it was simply a deep, aching, sleeping pain right now.

He wondered what might have happened had he made it to his bed and loaded up on morphine, maybe he'd still be there, drugged and oblivious, locked up safe in his bedroom. But to wake up alone, the house infested without another living soul around with no idea where his family was... God, he really did not envy Rick his wake-up to this world. The fact that Rick had persevered to track down his family with nothing but determination and hope—and to have actually succeeded—just tripled Marshall's faith in the man to keep his sisters safe.

Marshall was broken from his musings when Boomer sudden pulled up short, nickering. He straightening, instantly on alert, eyes darting around for any piranha. His sudden shift in demeanour awoke Sophia, who was pressed stiff against his chest, wide dry eyes darting around.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't-" Marshall started, but then stopped as his gaze finally fell onto the dead piranha splayed on the ground with its head bashed in. "There's a dead piranha."

Sophia straightened, peering over Boomer's head. "Someone killed it—they could still be nearby!" She didn't know if she was more excited to possibly find another from the group, or scared they might run into a stranger.

"Yes." He agreed simply. The same thoughts were racing through his own head. Stranger or friend. But they would only find out by moving forward.

He was trying to figure if it was better to dismount, leave Sophia on Boomer, and lead the horses out front on foot, weapon ready, or stay mounted in case of trouble for a fast getaway. In the end, he decided it was better to dismount. Marshall handed back the small flashlight, which the girl took with mild confusion.

"What are you doing?!" Sophia question with hushed panic as Marshall started to slid off down behind her, trying to twist around.

Boomer shifted his weight around with a snort and Marshall grunted as his feet hit the ground a little rougher than intended. "Sophia, don't shift around like that or you're going to fall off."

"Sorry." She stilled, head ducked in guilt and shame.

"I'm not going anywhere," He promised, left hand touching her knee to draw her gaze, "I'm just going to be on the ground out front leading the horses, so just stay in the saddle, alright? I know you must be aching to get down, but just wait until we sort this situation out, okay, butterfly?" She nodded. "Here." He handed her the pack of gum from his pocket. "Chew on some of that." He carefully rolled his injured shoulder with a grimace, flexing his fingers to try and get the blood flowing again. He stroked Boomer's nose before he took the reins and guided Boomer and Hopscotch around the felled piranha. He kept a strict eye out for any potential piranha playing hide-and-seek, as well as any other dead piranha that would act like breadcrumbs leading them.

The first few had bullet holes. After spotting the scuffed trail of a tumble down a bit of a sharp decline, and finding a route for the horses to go down, came upon a piranha with a smashed pumpkin for a head. He kicked a handgun buried in the leaves and stashed the weapon in a saddlebag. He tried not get his hopes up as he wondered if they might actually be on the trail of Rick and Carl. While he wanted to find his sisters, he knew it would be more beneficial if they ran into another of Rick's Group; it would certainly go a long way if they had a fallout plan that Sophia just hadn't been made aware of.

More visible tracks proceeding that were easy to follow—an exhausted prey. Marshall hoped to God the next scene they came upon wasn't a couple of feasting piranha.

Marshall stopped and stared.

Boomer's huff ghosted over the nape of his neck, making him shiver as he quickly took in the scene. Two more dead piranha... with the tops of their skulls cut through clean off. Marshall's guard went up 100 fold, green-gaze darting through the trees as he pushed the hatchet handle through his belt and took out his Berretta instead in his right hand, switching control of the reins to his left. He began to back up, in turn forcing Boomer to shift backward. Hopscotch shook her head, shifting away from Boomer's retreating form. None of their group had any bladed weapons that could cut like that.

"Marshall?" Sophia's voice was barely audible over the gentle rustle of leaves.

"Stranger Danger."

Her fingers were white-knuckled on the saddle since they came across the first walker, but those two words were all the encouragement she needed to hunker down in the saddle, hiding behind Boomer's large head and becoming a tiny target. She fought the urge to take out the KBAR Marshall gave her; though it would make her feel better to have something to defend herself with, she wasn't sure how much good it would actually do and she was worried about accidentally dropping the unfamiliar weapon.

The horses could feel the tension, ears twitching and tails flicking as their hooves scuffed the ground while shifting backward. Without a closer inspection Marshall couldn't say for sure exactly how long ago the killing occurred, didn't know whether the stranger had long left the area or was watching them right now. He couldn't risk an encounter with a dangerous stranger because he wasn't sure if he'd actually win if the meeting turned physical, not as he was, he couldn't risk it, not with Sophia to protect.

The best option was to retreat and get distance.

Marshall was easing the horses around when a faint clinking reached his ears, an unnatural sound in the wild, and he stilled into silence hoping it had just been something jangling on either saddle. His neck and shoulder were killing him with how tense he was. When the clinking happened again, it did not come from behind him from the horses. Fuck. Releasing Boomer's reins, Marshall eased his firearm up in front of him, gaze fixed on direction he thought the sound had come from.

Only two options: try to beat a hasty retreat or face the music.

The stranger had the advantage. They were hidden, had a bead on Marshall's position. If they had more than the gun that they dropped and ill intentions, Marshall was already dead. What were the chances of the stranger dreading this moment as much as him? Could he risk calling out? Marshall eased out from in front of the horses, if they did decide to come out shooting, then there would still be a chance that Boomer and Hopscotch would make a break for it, and take Sophia along with them.

Marshall concluded that with precious cargo under his care, he just couldn't risk the danger. Injured, he was still useful, dead he was not. It was shoot first and deal with his conscious later. When he rounded the target tree, he did, in fact, get a shot off first—it buried harmlessly into the bare torso of one of two piranha that lunged at him.

He fell back onto the ground to get away, losing his gun. Sophia cried out, the horses started, rearing a bit but did not bolt. Marshall scrambled backward on the ground, frantically trying to get the hatchet from his belt. The two thick chains that collared both piranha like dogs pulled taut, halting their lunge. He only just registered that they were armless and jawless, before he stilled completely under the foreign object pressed against the side of his throat.

From the corner of his eye he could see the gleam of a long, thin blade. He fought the urge to swallow against his suddenly desert dry mouth. It was almost torturous straining to stay poised on his right arm as he was, begging his injured arm to not give out beneath him. He could already feel the sharp bite of the blade, even just one wrong shift and it would be inside his throat, let alone if he accidentally collapsed onto it.

He waited with bated breath, whether attacker was going to speak or simply kill him. What was barely 2 seconds but felt stretched far beyond, before a shout broke it, nearly making him flinch into the blade and slit his own throat open.

"Wait! Don't kill him!" Such a familiar voice, vouching for him no less. Rapid shuffling through the leaves sounded their approach. "I know him."

There was pregnant pause from his possible executioner, before they hissed through their teeth and withdrew their blade, stepping back. Marshall released a silent breath of relief, before getting to his feet. He quickly snatched up his gun from the ground as the two piranha continued to tug uselessly at their chains. Left hand holding his shoulder, Marshall turned to the new company.

Gaze briefly going over the familiar face before going to scrutinize the stranger. The blade to his throat turned out to be a badass katana, wielded by a gorgeous black woman with dreads to her waist, shrouded in a black hooded cloak like she was out of Assassin's Creed.

"Not the worst meet-and-greet I've ever had." Marshall remarked. "Right, Andrea?"

Any relief the blond might of had at a familiar face vanished instantly, replaced with a scowl. "Just my luck that it had to be you."

"Lucky is my middle name." The nameless woman rose a sceptical brow. "What, you don't believe me? Well, you'd be right. Calling your kid 'Lucky' is just asking for trouble. I'm Marshall, by the way. And who might you be, Samurai-sama?" The woman remained silent and continued to eye him, her face unreadable in the face of his friendliness after having her sword to his throat. "Ah! I got it right, didn't I?"

The woman eyed his shoulder. "You bit?" Her voice was low and gravely like she hadn't spoken in a while.

"No. It's just a fun little gunshot wound." That had reopened—again—from that fall and scramble.

"People after you?" She questioned suspiciously.

"Not anymore." Samurai-sama's grip tightened reflexively on her katana when he stepped forward, but he simply moved passed her without comment. Boomer and Hopscotch hadn't bolted, which in the end was a relief, he would of had to have gone chasing after them if so and he really did not want to have to do that. "You alright, butterfly?"

"Y-yes." Sophia whispered, warily straightening in Boomer's saddle to reveal herself to the unaware others. "Is it safe?"

"As it can ever be." Marshall told her. "Want to get down?"

"Okay." She agreed after a moment, eyeing the two people watching behind Marshall. The stranger with the sword and chained walkers was kinda scary, and though she knew Andrea, the woman was still basically a stranger. Sophia couldn't recall a time they'd actually talked to each other. Andrea was simply a familiar face that Sophia would run toward if she was alone and in danger, she was a step above Shane, who scared her like her dad did. Amy, Andrea's younger sister on the other hand, Sophia had really liked Amy. Amy had been the unofficial big-sister to all the kids around at the quarry camp.

Marshall held up his left arm to her. "Go easy." Referring both to his injury and the fact that she'd been riding for hours and she was going to be sore as all get-out. Sophia twisted her torso and reach out for him as Boomer shifted, bracing against his left shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her from the saddle, lowering her to the ground. Despite her avoiding his right shoulder, it still hurt like a motherfucker. Sophia still kept a tight hold on his arm as her legs nearly gave out from beneath her. He chuckled, "You'll be sore for a while."

Sophia reluctantly released him when she stabilized, but shadowed him as he took Boomer's reins and led the horses a little away so they be more comfortable from the chained piranha (who'd gone a bit docile again), with some sprigs for them to munch on.

Andrea was braced against a tree, leaning her weight off her right leg. "Looks like you two made off pretty well."

Marshall's jaw tightened and his eyes shadowed as Patricia screaming echoed in his ears. "Sure."

"Do you know what happened to my m-mom?" Sophia questioned the blond woman tentatively.

Andrea blinked for a moment, not expecting to be addressed by the girl. "She was separated and surrounded, but I managed to take out the walkers. We got separated in the end, but the last time I saw her, your mom was alive, Sophia."

"Did you see anyone else? T-Dog, Lori, Beth, and Athena got away in a car. And Rick and Carl were with us for a bit before we also got separated." Marshall said.

"Glenn and your sister were in the Hyundai." Andrea answered. "Daryl was on his bike. I don't know about anyone else, I'm sorry." She waited for him to speak-up about his dad and aunt, but when he didn't, she just assumed they died.

"Do you have any idea where the other's might go to meet-up?"

Andrea was silent for a long moment as she tried to think. Her only goal up until now had been to get away and survive with a bunch of walkers dogging her every step and fucked up knee hindering her escape. "The only place where I can think the others would go, would be the spot where we lost Sophia the first time on the highway."

"Alright." It was a good a place as any to start with, before trying for his own family rendezvous. "What about you, Samurai-sama? You sticking around or just passing through?"

"I was just passing through. Didn't exactly expect to come across anyone in the woods."

"Yet, you stopped anyways."

She eyed him. "I just held a sword to your throat and now you're, what, inviting me to join you? Are you reckless or just dumb?"

"Mm. Probably a reasonable amount of both, but my twin sister would just call me an idiot." Marshall stroked Boomer's neck.

"I like your sister already."

"Look, the assessment is really simple here—if you were gonna kill us and steal our shit, you would have done it. You never would have bothered to stop to save a stranger. You wouldn't have let Andrea's words stop your hand when you had me dead-to-rights. It's clear you've been alone for a while," he gaze flickered to the two chained piranha acting as pack mules, "That much is obvious. I'm sure you're really good at it, got your own system and everything. But is that really what you want? Do you want to survive or do you want to live? So, call it my gut, heh, or blood loss, but the offer is there. You can come, you can go. No one is holding you hostage here, Samurai-sama." He held the woman's gaze for a moment, for his words to hit home before his attention went to the blond woman. "I need to patch up my shoulder and then we can head for the highway."

"Sure." Andrea could only nod.

Marshall went to the bag secured to Hopscotch. "We have the one canteen of water." He unclipped it from the bag and passed it to Sophia at his hip. He dug into one of his pants pockets and handed her a little packet of tissue. "You should go to the bathroom while you have the chance. Not too far away, though. You have my knife, but if you scream, I'll come running."

"Okay." Sophia nodded, hugging the object to her chest, but didn't move away.

He eyed her for a moment. "Alright. You can check on these guys, they're your responsibility, alright?" He started to untie the carrier from Hopscotch's saddle, which triggered some backchat.

"What the hell is that?!" Andrea questioned, straightening.

Sophia pulled the carrier a safe distance from any hooves and slowly started to unzip the flap. She'd ended up with quite the few scratches last time as she wrangled the frightened felines into the bag. It was a good thing she did, too, because Patches stuck her paw out through the opening, swiping at the air with her claws out and a warning hiss.

"You have cats." Samurai-sama deadpanned.

"Yeah."

"Why do you have cats?"

"Why wouldn't we gave cats?" He returned glibly.

"Of all the things you could of grabbed-" Andrea started to mutter petulantly.

"Of all the things we could of grabbed... I let the 12-year-old save the cats." Marshall agreed. "I had to leave all the other horses behind to get torn apart with the slim chance of getting out alive so that we could. So, yeah. I was taking the God damn cats, Andrea."

She crossed her arms and didn't comment further on the subject. "Did you at least grab any food?"

"Sure." Marshall's hand dived into a saddlebag and pulled out a baggie. "Have some jerky." He whipped it over the horses and towards the women, Samurai-sama being the closest, snatched it from the air with her free hand, passing it over to Andrea. "Your welcome."

Samurai-sama had observed the exchange silently. Despite being from the same group, the animosity between the pair was obvious just between that brief exchange. She was already remembering why it was better to just stick to herself so she didn't have to deal with petty shit like this. Her attention fell from the male and to the little girl and kittens. Any animal she encountered was considered dinner, thankfully, she hadn't been so low that she had to resort to eating domestic pets—yet—not that she could even recall encountering any since the start of this.

Andrea had lowered herself onto some tree roots to ease the weight off her injured knee and chewed and chewed distastefully on a strip of jerky.

Marshall watched the nameless woman from the corner of his eye as he unzipped the front pocket of the bag for the med kit that was stowed there for easy convenience. He was a little wary as she slowly and silently inched toward Sophia, her katana still out. That was understandable, she was in strange and outnumbered company, even if that count was two injured adults and a little girl, but he relaxed a little more when she sheathed it in the scabbard secured to her back. He may not be openly hostile toward her, but if she tried something, especially toward Sophia... any friendliness and openness was dead in the gutter.

Sophia had gotten the flap completely and quickly retracted her hands. The 3 kittens immediately tried scrambling out to freedom with excitable mews, but after a warning from their mother, simmered down. Patches' head slowly eased from the carrier, ears flickering, slitted gaze wary as she eyed everything, from the woods, to horses, the people with grave suspicion. Sophia cooed at them, trying to comfort them.

Marshall started with the task of unbuttoning his shirt single (and left) handed (which was worlds easier than if he needed to button-up). He winced as he attempted to peel back the soiled material from his shoulder. In the intervening hours of bleeding and not, and piranha fluids, it had glued to the wound like an adhesive. Inhaling through his nose, he grip the edge and ripped the material away from the wound like it was an old bandage. He took a minute to just let it and himself breathe.

"They have names?"

Sophia's head snapped around at the unexpected low voice behind her. She just stared for a blank moment, heart hammering in her chest at the nameless woman squatted beside her. Her sword was sheathed at her back, and she had a softer look to her eyes. "Um." Her blue-eyes darted instinctively to Marshall sat on the ground, who gave her a silent nod, and she took a deep breath. "Y-yeah. Well, this- that's Patches. The mom." They both watched as said cat deemed it safe enough and she jumped from the carrier to land in the leaves with barely a rustle. "But they don't." The kittens quickly tumbled out of the carrier.

"Oh. Why not?" Under the watchful eye of Patches she picked up the orange and white kitten into her lap.

Sophia frowned, holding her own hand out, rubbing her fingers to keep the attention of the other two so they didn't go wandering off in curiosity. She looked back to Marshall again.

"You can." Marshall answered, albeit a little distractedly as he examined his wound via a small pocket mirror. Trying to strain and crane his neck to get a look at his clavicle was a pain in all instances. "But, butterfly," he warned, finally looking up, "It's not safe to keep them travelling with us. It's cruel to keep them shoved into the carrier on horseback for extended periods of time. Ideally, we need to find a safe, abandoned shed to leave them."

"But-"

"They'll be able to take care of themselves. The kittens are around 4 weeks, so once they're settled, Patches will start weaning them off her milk and teach them to hunt. Patches knows how to survive outside and this isn't her first litter, so she's not in over her head."

"Okay." Sophia mumbled, subdued, going back to watching the kittens and trying to come up with names.

"Can someone give me a hand?" Marshall questioned openly.

"Don't look at me. I don't know anything about any of that." Andrea waved her hand.

"But it's just a 'flesh wound', Andrea." Marshall drolled. "You scraped your knee before, right?"

She grimaced. "Funny."

"Samurai-sama?~"

Samurai-sama looked over at him plainly. "Even from here I can tell that's not a scraped knee."

"I don't need you to perform field surgery on me, alright? My daddy already did that yesterday. Can you just hold this mirror for me and I can patch myself up? We can even have a little chitchat."

Samurai-sama sighed, but after stroking the kitten's chubby belly, handed him over to Sophia, and rose to go over to Marshall. She grimaced. "Definitely not a scraped knee." He chuckled. "What did you do to it?"

"You know... survived." She sunk to the ground in front of him, shifting her scabbard. He handed over the mirror. "Killing piranha is a bit of a two-handed operation."

"Piranha. That's what you call them?"

"Yeah. I find it pretty fitting—their behaviours align pretty well. Piranha. Pretty docile unless provoked or hungry. They also have nasty teeth and they clean the meat right down to the bone." He popped the cap on the small bottle of hand sanitizer. "Why, what do you call them?"

She was silent as her gaze flickered over to her two docile companions. Loathing burned in her chocolate eye, from that look alone, Marshall could only assume she knew those two personally. "Nothing." She finally answered, turning her attention back to him.

"Fair enough." He guessed there was really no point if you were alone.

She levelled the mirror, propping her elbow on her knee so her arm wouldn't tire and the mirror wouldn't waver, and silently observed him. He remained unaffected under her scrutiny as he picked up a small bottle of alcohol and splashed it onto wound with a hiss through pursed lips. With a wipe, he painstakingly cleaned the crust that had formed around the wound and steri-strips, and in the stitches that remained. He couldn't honestly say what was his own and what wasn't. He had truly been saturated, the only part of him left untouched by that popped belly had really been his boots and his backside.

He was just going to have to pray that it didn't get infected from the piranha fluids he'd been bathed in earlier. Maybe his own bleeding had purged any out, but he supposed the only way to truly know would be whether he came down with a fever in the next 24 to 48 hours. Annette had become feverish within a day of her own bite, so he could only assume. If that were truly the case, then he hoped to God they found the rest of their group first because there was no way that he was leaving Sophia in the hands of Andrea. With a small pair of scissors, he sniped the broken sutures and plucked them free.

A few things became clear to Samurai-sama as she watched him:

Marshall knew what he was doing with that wound, a skill that was a boon in the apocalypse. He was certainly no stranger to injury or pain, the scars that painted his abdomen and his pain threshold while treating himself attested to that. The Army tattoo that peeked out on his right shoulder told he was definitely more dangerous than his boyish appearance and attitude portrayed. And it was obvious that his survival wasn't mere luck like it had been for Andrea. Even while injured in a very hindering spot, he managed to save Sophia, the cats, and saddle-up 2 horses with supplies. She could only imagine how effective he would be once he healed. Was she actually considering this? Having an ally at her back could also mean having an enemy there.

Marshall wasn't going to bother trying to throw stitches back into the incision, there was a suture kit, but it would just be wasteful here when he knew there was a high chance he would reopen the wound. Instead, he sealed the open puckers with more steri-strips, and fixed up the bandage and tape in his lap. "So, how'd you end up all the way out here?"

She stared. "I walked."

Marshalled enjoyed the sass. "Don't worry—we have all the time in the world to get to know each other."

"Or none at all."

"That's what makes it all the more fun." He rubbed the tape onto his skin.

"You..."

He pulled the shirt back over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Are weird."

"Thank you!"

"It wasn't a compliment." She handed him back the small mirror as he started to pack up the first aid kit, before she rose fluidly to her feet.

"Isn't it, though?"

She stared down at him, disgruntled. "That's gonna get old, fast."

"Liar." He grinned. "And you'd also have to be sticking around for it to 'get old'." She grunted in assent at that observation. "I bet you're a closet weird-o, too."

"There's nothing closeted about you." She remarked.

Marshall giggled. "This is starting to feel like friendship to me!"

"We just met."

"So? Sometimes you just know."

"Who says I'm even sticking around?"

"We just met, yet you already get me. You get it." He glanced over at Thing One and Thing Two. "Have I been wrong about you?" He added in a more serious whisper.

She was silent as she regarded the younger man before her, regarding her back with unwavering green-eyes. Looks like she was tossing her eggs in with this looney-basket. "Michonne." Was the gruff answer to all his questions.

His face lit up with a boyish expression, it briefly wiped out the shadow and grief and exhaustion that lined and aged his face. "Nice to meet you, Michonne—though I am still pretty partial to 'Samurai-sama'." He grunted as he climbed to his feet, going over to Hopscotch to pack away the first aid kit.

"Marshmallow!" Sophia suddenly declared, holding the white and orange kitten overhead.

Marshall looked over from the pack. "Butterfly?" He questioned.

"Oh, um..." She hugged the kitten to her chest, looking down shyly. "I just- that's what I wanna name him."

"Oh?" His left hand laid over Rocky. He held back his smile and teased playfully, "I thought I was 'Marshmallow'?"

She suddenly flushed, her freckles brightening. She thought that was a dream, but she'd actually called him that?! Sophia stammered, unable to come up with an answer.

Marshall chuckled. "I'm just joking around, butterfly. Name them whatever you want. I'm actually flattered. You know, my spirit animal is a cat."

"What about Athena?" The girl wondered.

"Athena's my soul mate." He smiled, remembering when Rick called her that. "It's different." Sophia nodded thoughtfully.

"You're one of those people, aren't you?" Andrea remarked form her seat. "You're into star signs and planet alignments. All that crap."

"I'm a Capricorn." Marshall informed her seriously just to annoy her, "My planet is Saturn and my Zodiac is the Rat. Now, unless you're filling out my profile for a dating website... I suggest you hobble your ass over here."

Andrea scowled at him. "You're such an asshole." Though she did lever herself to her feet and started to limp towards them.

He called to the strawberry-blond next, 100% less crass and 100% more friendly, "Sophia, put the cats back in the bag. We're getting ready to leave. And I was serious about going to the bathroom." Sophia scrambled to comply with the difficult task of herding cats.

Michonne watched the exchange with curiosity. "How old are you?"

Though confused by the sudden question, he answered without qualm: "Twenty-Five. Why?"

"Just curious. You said she was 12 earlier, but if you're only 25 then the numbers don't add up. Just the way you are with her..." Michonne said softly, pain shadowing her gaze, "One might have thought you were her father."

He was silent. Blank. He licked his lips, mildly confused. He wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. "I'm not. I'm just a stranger."

"No. Andrea's the stranger to her. You? Not so much."

"What's going on? I thought I heard my name." Andrea said. She didn't even get within 10 feet of him before her face scrunched in disgust, "Oh, nasty! What are you covered in? You reek! And button up your shirt already."

Marshall rolled his eyes, but complied, working his way slowly from the bottom up. "No guts, no glory, Andrea. Piranha juices. If we weren't covered in the stuff, that hoard would have tore us apart instead of ping-ponging us through. Pretty effective camouflage—if you can stomach it."

"Yeah." Andrea agreed. "Rick and Glenn did that when we were all trapped in Atlanta. Chopped up a walker. It's still nasty."

"That's what they're for." Michonne nodded toward her two chained pets. "I've blended in with small groups before with them. They provide free labour and carry my supplies, and they can even act as a bit of a warning system. I know something's up when they get a bit rowdy." She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "If you don't mind the slow pace—or the shit company."

"How do you even come up with something like that?" Andrea muttered, shivering.

Walkers in general were hard to look at, but these two...

Their arms were amputated above the elbow. They were shirtless and you could see how concave their chests where, how emaciated their bellies. But the most disturbing—was the missing lower half of their jaws. The lower jaw bone was completely missing, shattered and cut away, leaving nothing but a fleshy, gory, constantly gaping maw. Their top gums were black and toothless, and if you stared hard enough at the throat hole, you could see the uvula. The taller one still had most of its tongue, leaving it to jiggle, while the shorter one's had been cut to a short stub. Not to mention they're milky, sunken eyes or the fact that you could see the exposed rib bones through a patched of torn off flesh.

"Desperate times create desperate measures," Marshall answered with a gleam in his green-eyes as he eyed them. "AKA Badass Survival Tactics." He looked to Michonne, "Exactly how attached to your little pets, are you?"

Michonne narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

Marshall sighed. "Well, I agree that they could afford us some camouflage, though I doubt it will work as well with a bigger group of breathers, and I not exactly bothered by the slower pace. I don't want to go galloping through the woods unless I have to. I just know the horses will not react well to having them trail behind them. How long are the chains?" He inquired, brushing his fingers through Boomer's mane.

"Around 12 feet."

Andrea stared in disbelief. "You're not actually considering keeping them along?!"

"Totally." Marshall said.

"You're way too into this!" Andrea exclaimed. She hadn't missed that look in his eye.

"It's fascinating." He mumbled. He can't say whether it would have been a method he would have thought of himself, just like popping a piranha on him, but if it was tried and true... might as well utilize it.

"Of course, you would find it fascinating. You kept walkers in your barn!"

Michonne raised a brow at him.

"It was my daddy's thing." Marshall waved it away. "What exactly is their behaviours? I can't imagine you would keep them around if they keep trying to eat you—despite their inability to actually do so. I've noticed with lack of stimuli, they become docile."

"Mm." Michonne agreed. "They're mostly reactive. Cause a fuss and it riles them up. And, of course, fresh blood sets them off, but... they've also never... fed before. That could also be why they're not so... aggressive."

Marshall stared at her for a long moment, parsing the meaning in her words. It had already become clear to him that she knew who those two piranha were prior to the turn, the anger she had for them. And now, she collared them fresh. She was there when they turned, that was the only way she could know that they had never fed. Marshall wondered who she was trying to punish more, them or herself. "What your really saying is," Marshall said and saw the subtle tension go into her shoulders, "You neutered them before they could do the deed." A smirk almost twitched at the corner of her mouth, while Andrea's twisted in disgust.

Marshall watched Sophia for a moment, musing aloud as she raced around, putting one kitten in the carrier bag, but by the time she came back with another, the first had escaped. Patches was simply watching as she haughtily licked her paw. Sophia's next coarse of action was to gather all the kittens in her arms at once. "The instinct to feed is still there, so they're enticed, but without the ability to literally feed said instinct, it abates. And around and 'round the cycle goes." Both women stared at him, when he noticed, he blinked back, "What? Whatever." He muttered when they didn't answer him. "Next question: Either of you know how to ride a horse?"

Andrea shook her head. "City Girl through and through."

"I used to ride in college." Michonne voiced. "It's been a few years, though."

"Samurai-sama~!" Marshall sang. "Your Apocalypse Résumé just keeps getting better and better: swordplay, ingenious survival tactics, and now horseback riding. You're definitely hired." Andrea scoffed under her breath—she was not jealous or feeling inadequate! "Okay, meet and greet between you, Boomer and Hopscotch. Then we'll try to bring Thing One and Thing Two over, see how well that blind date goes. Depending, we can be on our way!" He resist the urge to clap and jar his shoulder.

Marshall didn't even have to show Michonne how to introduce herself to the horses; yes, he was very pleased indeed. "This is my Boomer, and that's Hopscotch. You'll be riding her. She's a show and sport horse, show jumping and polo." Hopscotch nickered and tossed her head. "She may be a little temperamental at first..." Boomer nudged and snorted in his face. Marshall stroked his neck, "You're not going to be so chuffed with me in a few minutes, Boo-Boo." Marshall rested his forehead on Boomer's nose for a moment, the dappled horse just snorted in his face.

He straightened and glanced over to find Michonne trying to play keep-away as Hopscotch kept trying to nibble on her dreadlocks, but the woman looked amused more that anything. Marshall took Boomer's reins and secured them more tightly to the tree, if things did kick-off he didn't want to risk him bolting.

"Fair warning," he informed Michonne, "Hopscotch stomped the last piranha that came near her." Michonne only nodded, stroking Hopscotch's neck a final time before stepping away. Hopscotch remained tethered to Boomer, but as a precaution, he tied off her reins as well. Andrea stood out of the way with Sophia and the full carrier, its occupants not exactly pleased to be back in the confining space.

Gentle tinkling filled the air as Michonne approached nonchalantly, the chains pulled taut as Thing One and Thing Two stepped forward to meet her. She didn't even flinch, just passed them and unlocked the chains from around the tree she'd secured them to. They become a little more 'alive' in her presence, a little more vocal. Michonne wound each chain loosely around each arm to reel them in and with commanding tugs, they followed obediently after her on her slow approach back to the horses.

Marshall hummed, trying to keep them as calm as possible, kept in their eye line, but not too close to possibly be kicked. The sound of the chains already had their ears flicking, but when the gurgling-rasps reached them, they quickly grew wary and agitated.

Michonne had to work for control, biceps bulging, heels digging in as they pulled eagerly. She cast a silent questioning look to Marshall as Hopscotch began stamping, but he silently gestured for her to keep coming, but to give the chains some slack. Marshall didn't want Boomer and Hopscotch to stop reacting to piranhas' presence in general, that would get them all killed, but if another hoard converged on them, he did want them to go 'buck-wild'. It wouldn't just do for them to over-react to every stray piranha they encountered, thus throwing off their riders and bolting like Nelly had done to Daryl.

Just like at the stables, Boomer was more controlled while Hopscotch was more vigorous. Of course, when Thing Two bumped into him, he literally hip-checked it the ground with a huff and a mane flip. Hopscotch was definitely not best pleased as, over and over, Thing One kept trying to come at her, no matter how many times she sent devastating kicks its way, clipping it none-fatally and sending it to the ground—only for it to climb back into its feet and come at her again.

Their agitation and animation fed off each other, until finally, Thing One just seemed to loose interest, left with a shattered ribcage that protruded through its leather skin like spikes. Hopscotch's chest was heaving, eyes rolled back to keep an eye, but calmed down barring the occasional stamp as the two piranha just seemed to gravitate toward each other.

Michonne unravelled the length of the chains, and with a wary eye out for any stray hooves coming her way, attached a chain to the back of each saddle. Leaving the piranha be, she made her way around and approached Hopscotch from the front, hand out, murmuring soothingly. Hopscotch snorted and tossed her head, but allowed the human's approach. Once the horse was calmer, Marshall nodded for her to mount, but before he could even offer to give her a leg up, the woman had her boot in the stirrup and was up, throwing her right leg over to settle into the saddle.

Michonne's eyes brightened briefly, stroking the dappled horse' neck as she adjusted to the weight. Marshall then waved Andrea forward, the blond limped forward, giving the two piranha a wide berth. Even without her bum knee, he knew the blond would not be able to saddle from the ground like Michonne had done, so he met her at Hopscotch's side.

"What-"

"You'll just hurt yourself trying to saddle from the ground." He knelt then, one knee braced to the ground, the other out like a sturdy step. Normally, he would have just used interlocked hands, but he wasn't fool enough to attempt that with a grown woman and his injured shoulder. "Take Michonne's hand. Step onto my knee with your right foot, put your left in the stirrup, then just step-up and throw your right leg over." He instructed.

Andrea stared at him for a moment, wanted to scathe and sneer, but instead, took a breath, clasped Michonne's offered hand, and did as Marshall had instructed. It still fucking hurt her knee, of course, but as she grabbed onto Michonne's shoulders, getting whacked in the face by the hilt of her sword as Hopscotch danced on the spot, she knew she never would have been able to do that herself.

Marshall just rose to his feet a low grunt and went back to Boomer. Sophia edged her way around this time with the carrier, as he undid the tether that tied Hopscotch to Boomer. He left Hopscotch tied to the tree for the time being and set the carrier with the agitated cats aside, the sound rousing Thing One and Two, setting Hopscotch to exhale sharply and tail to flick.

"Up we go, butterfly."

He'd done it quick and dirty with his shoulder in the stables, picking the 12-year-old up under the armpits and swinging her up into the saddle. This time, he went a little easier on himself. He bent, got her sat on his left shoulder and then had her shift herself over into the saddle, before he passed her up the carrier. Sophia put the strap over her shoulder and across her chest to better secure it in her lap.

Marshall untied both horses, passing Michonne up Hopscotch's reins, while he simply tossed Boomer's over the back of his neck for easier access once the man was seated. Marshall approached from the right side instead on the left. Right foot in the stirrup, all the pull was going to come from his left. With a deep breath, he step-hopped, pulling himself up and throwing his left leg over.

His saddling was rougher than he had intended and Boomer let him know it. "Sorry, buddy." He glanced at Michonne, who gave him a nod. "Alright, then. Let's get the hell out of here."

With a click of heels and tongue, they were moving. The chains pulled taut for but a moment, before Thing One and Thing Two followed behind. The best course of action was to simply make it out of the woods and find the highway, and orient themselves from the there.

The horses weren't especially pleased to have two rotted corpses haunting their steps, but barring the few incidents where Thing One or Two had wandered too close, they were either knocked aside by an annoyed Boomer, or straight-up kicked by a pissed-off Hopscotch. Where Michonne was a calm and controlled rider, Andrea was a nervous passenger. Whenever Hopscotch did anything other than move in a calm, forward walking pace, Andrea would jolt to grasp onto Michonne like she was about to thrown off.

Marshall had caught Michonne's aggrieved expression once or twice from the corner of his eye as Andrea grabbed at her again with a gasp as Hopscotch whinnied, lips peeled back from flat teeth, kicked her hind leg back. He held back the snicker and continued to hum lowly. Hopscotch had passed close by several times as they weaved through the woods. Michonne had caught it, brows furrowed, but couldn't place it over the sound of the horses, until they were side-by-by for more than a couple steps. She raised a silent brow as she regarded him, but made no verbal comment to Sophia lounging back against his chest dozing lightly, her hand stuck through the small opening in the cat carrier.

Michonne had been right about the pace, even though it wasn't any slower than it had been when Marshall and Sophia had been walking in the dark, the sense of urgency that held them was different. Instead of running from a pack of chasing piranha, then they were running to their missing loved ones.

It was afternoon by the time they even spotted the guardrail that lined the highway, it took them a while still following alongside it from the ditch (away from the city) to find a way for the horses to climb the incline that led to the road. Marshall had stopped humming and Sophia roused herself, rubbing her eyes and looking around, only to tense.

"Marshall?" she muttered.

Following along after them up on the roadside behind the guardrail, keeping pace with Thing One and Two at the back behind Hopscotch, were three piranha.

"We see them." He assured her.

"They need to be taken care of." Michonne muttered in a low, rough tone. "As soon as one comes over the rail, the others will follow—then we may be in trouble."

"You're the most fighting-fit out of everyone here." Marshall said. "So, how do you want to take care of it? Right now they're just keeping pace, but as soon as you pull to a stop and jump from Hopscotch—they'll be coming over. That happens, Hopscotch is gonna get set off and you don't to be on the ground beside her when she starts rearing and stomping." Michonne hissed out a breath in response. "We could pick up the pace, create some distance, give you time to get up there and meet them. Or we could draw them down, take care of them in the woods."

"Woods." Michonne decided. If they tried to gallop, Thing One and Two would just end up getting dragged underfoot.

"Got it." Keeping an eye, he waited for the woman's signal. When it came, they simultaneously steered their horses back into the trees, urging them to kick-up the speed half a gear to grant them some distance.

The sudden burst of action and movement from them, sent the three piranha up top into a bit of a tizzy, setting off their innate instinct to follow and feed. Almost immediately they surged over the guardrail, tumbling ass over head down the decline to sprawl at the bottom. There was no pause to assess damage, they immediately clambered to their feet to continue immediate pursuit, one lagging behind with a broken ankle held together with nothing but tendon and muscle.

Marshall and Michonne had done a loop around, and as Hopscotch came up alongside Boomer, Michonne passed over the reins to Marshall before lifting her leg over Hopscotch's neck and jumping down to the ground. Michonne's right hand reached back over her shoulder to grasp the hilt of her sword as she headed straight for the closing, snarling piranha. The woman didn't unsheathe her sword until she was within reach of her prey—and then it was finished in under 10 seconds.

In the same motion as she pulled her sword free from the scabbard on her back, did she bring it down on the closest piranha's head. The follow-up led to an upward slash through the second, and the last was finished with a thrust. She pulled her blade free, flicking the old blood away as the piranha collapsed to the ground.

She cast a critical eye around to see of any more wanted to pop up as she wiped the remaining blood from the tip of her sword on a hand towel hanging from her belt. Turning on her heel, her cloak hem flaring, she sheathed her sword and walked back to the others.

"Well," Marshall remarked, giving a low whistle. "That was as awesome as I imagined it to be."

Michonne just grunted softly at him as pulled herself up into the saddle, knee pulled to her chest instead of swinging it over and kicking Andrea off. "The highway's going to have more foot traffic," She accepted the reins back. "With all the abandoned vehicles, if we have to make a break for it, it'll be a complete bi-" She cut herself off as she caught Sophia's big blue-eyes.

"Bitch?" Marshall supplied.

Michonne raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering from him to Sophia pointedly. "She's a kid."

"Yeah." Marshall agreed wryly. "Sophia, have I ever sworn in front of you?" Sophia nodded after a moment. "Have I ever swore at you?" Her rapid headshake came instantly. "She's a kid in the apocalypse. What? It's okay for her to watch people die, but I can't say a no-no word in front of her?" Sophia bit her cheek to stop from giggling. "Oh, no, call the cops!"

"She is a kid." Andrea inserted. ""You're just encouraging her to swear. And that's not your decision to make just because her mother isn't here right now—you're not her parent. You're not her father!"

Marshall's face went instantly hard and blank. Michonne was the only one who saw how upset the girl looked at that as she pressed back against the man.

"You're right." Marshall uttered and Sophia flinched, turning her face away. "I'm not that piece of shit. I'm the guy that's going to protect her and feed her, and teach her to survive. I'm the guy that's gonna get her back to her mama safe and sound just like I did the first time." He challenged the blond lowly, "What are you going to do for her, Andrea? Tell her to shoot a gun when she shouldn't? Show her how to leave the safety on?"

"Fuck you!" She hissed at him.

"No, thanks." He rejected plainly.

"Pig!" Andrea looked two seconds away from jumping across to strangle him. Marshall just rolled his eyes at the blond.

"If you two are finished?" Michonne interjected.

"Butterfly," Marshall murmured into the strawberry-blond's crown, unable to see her face. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-mm."

He frowned at the uncommunicative response and flashed a glare at the blond woman before ignoring her, turning his attention to back to Michonne. "You were saying about the highway?"

"Yeah." Michonne voiced after a moment. "If we have to make a run for it up there, we might get trapped and cornered in that maze of cars."

"Possibly," Marshall agreed, nudging Boomer into motion. "But we're better off on horses than in cars. We can better manoeuvre through and we can jump the guardrail and escape back into the woods. If need be, we can drop the dead-weight, but keep your sword-arm warm—you're our frontline fighter right now."

Silence descended as they trailed along the edge of the highway again. It was almost half-an-hour by the time they found their way passed the guardrail and onto the blacktop. The shoed hooves clomping instead of crunching in leaves. They all kept a wary eye out for unwanted company, but it was suspiciously lacking.

"That herd that passed through," Andrea speculated as Michonne guided Hopscotch between cars, Marshall leading Boomer through an alternate route, "They might have absorbed the walkers that lingered on the highway as they went."

The upside to that eerie statement was that they didn't counter much resistance weaving through the abandoned traffic while they weren't in their top shape. The rock bottom of that statement being a massive herd they were likely to encounter and would not survive.

A piranha crushed under an overturned car from the waist down, jerked to life. Milky-eyes snapped open, a rasp left its throat like sandpaper, and its single arm grasped for the leg that stepped in front of it. Hopscotch whinnied, rearing up with a start. Michonne managed to keep hold and stay in the saddle, while Andrea was thrown off with a shout. The blond woman manage to throw herself to the side to land on the trunk on a car, instead of underfoot of the startled horse—unlike the trapped walker, who met its end under the steel-shoed hoof it had tried grabbing.

Marshall had his right arm wrapped around Sophia's waist, like a leaden weight, his left a tight control over Boomer's reins as the stallion gave his own start at Hopscotch's panic. Andrea sat up with a groan as Michonne worked to calm Hopscotch, letting out a grunt as Thing One got too close and kicked it away with her good leg.

"You good?"

"Better than that walker." She grimaced at the sight of spattered brain, goo, and hair on the cracked asphalt.

"It'll be easier to mount from the car." Marshall commented.

"I almost just died! Give me a minute."

"I want to find that site before the sun sets." Marshall said. "We're gonna end up spending the night out here. We either find the group there and our worries are cut in half, or they've already moved on and we're going to have to set up ourselves."

"Bossy Asshole." The blond woman muttered under her breath, standing on the trunk as Michonne brought a calmer Hopscotch alongside. She mounted, and they continued forward. It was a couple hours later, the sky glowing orange and pink, when: "This is it! This is it!" Andrea exclaimed, patting Michonne's shoulder frantically in excitement. Extending her arm over the other woman's shoulder, she pointed to cream coloured Ford Mustang Coup in the short distance.

Marshall sighed as he looked around. It was clear that the rest of their people were not here. "Okay." He brought Boomer closer to the guardrail where there was more room to dismount and where the grass was overgrown for him to graze on. Michonne followed his example with Hopscotch.

Marshall grunted and grimaced as his shoulder was jostled. Breathing carefully through thin lips, braced against Boomer's hip with the momentary dizzy spell. He was exhausted and dehydrated and he needed something to eat. Michonne eyed the pallid man from the corner of her eye before he straightened and helped Sophia down. Andrea rubbed at her knee as she leaned her weight against the guardrail.

"No one's here." Sophia mumbled in defeat, hugging the squirming carrier.

"No." Marshall agreed, stroking the back of her head. "That just mean's there's no point in lingering here tomorrow."

"Where are we supposed to head? This is the only place they would congregate to!" Andrea said.

"I have a few rendezvous points mapped out for my family in case anything ever happened to the farm." Marshall answered. "They'll go there."

"How do you know which one?" Michonne questioned.

"Well, they won't go to the orchard because it's occupied now, for that same reason, Rick wouldn't go to that area for general safety. I never had the city marked as a 'safe place', and there's only one rendezvous point they could go to out this way." He decided. "In the meantime, we make camp here. Shift the cars around to create some kind of barrier for the horses, we can sleep in the cars tonight. Someone will have to keep watch—it can't be me." He admitted. "I need to knockout.

"And yes," he added a little sharply, cutting off the blond woman before she could make some kind of remark at him, "I know you haven't rested either, Andrea. The difference is, I've been shot. I've been bleeding off and on for hours. I am in pain, I am exhausted, I won't be adequate on watch, and it won't do any of us any good if I push myself to collapse."

"I can take first watch." Michonne interjected. "You can get some rest," she told the other woman, "Then we can switch out before morning."

"Alright. Fine." Andrea agreed.

Marshall sent Michonne a grateful look. And they went about making a little camp on the road. The four worked pretty efficiently. Sophia being the lightest, typically steered, following the adults' instruction closely, while the three pushed. Andrea put her shoulder into it to keep the pressure off her injured knee, while Marshall shoved from the hip.

Marshall paused for a brief break as the two women moved to the Mustang. He took short swig of warm water from the canteen, and after nearly dropping it from his spasming fingers, popped a piece of gum into his pasty mouth.

"That's new!" Andrea remarked, staring at the neon green tag on the side of the Coup, hands on her hips.

"What is it?" Michonne stepped to her side.

"No idea. But we never put that there."

"What's wrong?" Marshall muttered, making his way over to them. He didn't know what he expected when he rounded the car, but the womens' calm if confused reactions immediately disqualified something disturbing or dangerous. He stopped and blinked rapidly to bring the bright green blob into focus, and once his slow brain processed exactly what it was that he was staring at—his legs gave out beneath him.

"Marshall?!" Sophia cried out, running over to him with worry.

His pain receptors blared mutedly, the crack of cement against his knees, his shoulder, but none of it mattered because- because- He laughed breathlessly, relief hitting him so hard he felt light headed with it. Not that he had doubted, but to have proof that they had actually been here!

"Marshall?" Sophia grabbed his uninjured shoulder. She let out a startled yelp as he wrapped her in a hug and she fell against him. She could feel her scalp dampen with tears, and she reached up, patting his head comfortingly.

"They're okay. They were here!" He cheered into the strawberry-blond's hair.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Andrea questioned, watching him like he had a screw loose.

Marshall rested his cheek against the girl's crown, keeping her held against him as he stared through his tears at the tag on the side of the car. "That's the symbol for Athena. The horseshoe is the symbol I used to mark supply caches on my treasure maps. And I had a green spray paint can stashed in the Banana Mopeel."

Michonne's lip curled in confusion. "The what?" She had been worried his sudden collapse had been something more serious.

"My car." Marshall smiled. "Sunny left this for me—my beautiful, brilliant baby sis!" He felt giddy as he rocked the twelve-year-old in his arms. "Tomorrow, bright and early, we'll head for the rest stop."

Marshall finally released his captured butterfly, and her concerned expression soon mirrored his in response to his boyish beam. He climbed to his feet with a groan, rubbing the aching in his knees and blinking away the bit of light-headedness. They finished pushing the last car into place, unchained Thing One and Two from the horses and chained then to the opposite end of the car-barrier at the inside of the road from the horses. The steep incline over the side of the guardrail would act as a natural deterrent for any approaching piranha coming from the woods. Michonne shared what food she had in the pack Thing One was carrying, and they ate as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon.

Marshall stared into the star speckled night sky through the window as he settled into a backseat for the night, Marshmallow curled up on his stomach while the rest cuddled with Sophia in the front seat. He hummed Josephine's Lullaby, lulling them to sleep and he knew: out there right now, his loved ones were looking up at the same stars, just waiting for him to catch up and find them.

Tomorrow,

he'd be with his family again,

Sophia in her mama's arms again,

bright and early!

[tWD]

Marshall awoke to the bright beam of Georgian Grade Sunlight shinning right into his eyes. He groaned, a headache throbbing behind his brow. The sharp stabbing pain of a full bladder screaming at him to be relieved. He felt like shit, not that he expected a short night in the cramped backseat of a car to work miracles. He had a pleasant enough dream, though. Of cuddling with Sunny and being sung to.

He did not want to get up and feel the full force of how stiff and sore he actually was, but he was on a schedule of Bright & Early!

He slowly sat up, carefully rotating his right shoulder and flexing his stiff fingers. The pain there did feel duller, at least. He spotted his canteen hanging off the headrest of the front seat and swished around a swallow of warm water in his parched mouth. It took him a belated moment to realize that not only was he missing his sleeves, but also the rest of his shirt and the material pooled in his lap was a wool blanket he didn't recognize. Well, that was fucking weird. Sophia and the kittens were also no longer occupying the car with him.

Throwing the blanket off his lap, his guard was inching into the upright position as he shifted across the seat to the door at the inside of the barrier, his green-eyes narrowing as the scoured their temporary camp through the windows. He spotted the horses by the guardrail, and the flash of movement in the side mirror revealed the ugly but familiar visage of Thing Two chained to the neighbouring car. He got out of the car, quietly closing the door. If this is what it felt like to get blackout drunk than he knew it was all the more reason not to drink.

"Well, well—if it isn't Sleeping Beauty." Called just the voice he wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

"Andrea." He turned toward the woman with a secret tickle of relief at a living person. She was hauling around his scythe, using it like a walking stick, the curved blade smeared with what could only be piranha goo. She must have been on watch. "Where are Sophia and Michonne?"

"Refilling on water. They should be back soon."

Marshall's brow crinkled. "Where'd you find water?"

"Sophia remembered the creek nearby that she and Rick found when she was lost. We managed to find some bottles in the cars to fill up."

"Oh, that's good. I was worried about the water." He admitted.

"What, surprised we managed to do it without you?"

Marshall's brow furrowed. "No." It was great to know that they could take care of themselves. "I'm just surprised that I didn't wake up—or that no one woke me up to help."

Andrea shifted awkwardly. "Right." She stared at him.

"Okay. Well, I-" really need to take a piss and you're being weird, he didn't get to say when there was an excited cry behind him.

"Marshall, you're awake!"

And much like at the farm, he turned just in time to be caught around the middle by the 12-yearl-old, stumbling back against the side of the car with the weight and force of her exuberance.

"Of course, I am. The sun comes up and so do I, though I think I slept in a little." He joked, but he noticed the look Michonne shot to Andrea, who shrugged. "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?" Marshall remarked. "Other than my shirt."

"Try a few days."

"What are you talking about?"

"You been down and out with a fever." Michonne explained.

"Meaning we've been stuck here for the last 3 days." Andrea pointed out, salty.

"Fever? Shit!" Marshall muttered. He reached up and peeled back the pad on his shoulder, "Did it get infected?"

"Not as far as I can tell." Michonne said.

Marshall sighed with relief, agreeing with that after his own visual assessment. "I was worried about it getting infected with piranha blood," He smoothed the tape back into place, "But it must have been because I pushed myself too far, too soon after getting shot. My body forced me to rest." He groaned, absently twirling a short lock of strawberry-blonde hair. "That means we're behind schedule." Fuck. "The smart move would be for them to stay at the rest stop, get their bearings, for a few days, at least, before trying to find a more permanent place to hole up for winter..."

"We can leave today, catch up to them before they leave." Andrea said, but Marshall shook his head.

"It's already midday. It'll take a couple hours to get packed-up and sorted. I have a map in my pack-" he started, but Michonne interrupted, stepping forward and pulling it out from the inside pocket of her vest.

"I have it." She laid it out on the roof of the car. Andrea stepped closer as they looked over the map.

"This is the rest stop I'm taking about." He pointed. "We're about... here." He backtracked with the help of a convenient mile marker. "It'll already take twice as long to reach it by horse than by car. Even if we cut a chunk of time off that by cutting through these woods instead of following the road... we leave today, we'll get caught out in the dark and have to camp the night out there. As much as I don't want to stay here for another day, I think it'd be better to pack up nonessentials now to save time and then the rest tomorrow before we leave."

"But we'll run the risk of falling behind even more!" Andrea protested. "When we get there, and they're not there because you delayed us again, how are we even supposed to find them? I thought you'd want to find your sisters as fast as possible." She flinched back at the dark, furious look he sent her way.

"What a stupid fucking thing to say." His voice was low and dangerous. "Of course, I want to get to them. Of course, I'm worried about them—but I also know that they can take care of themselves. I've made sure my sisters know how to survive if we ever got separated or I died." If Marshall had any doubts or concerns before, they were crushed under Beth's softball bat just like any piranha that had gotten into her path at the farm. "But I also know getting ourselves killed by rushing and getting caught with our asses out, isn't exactly productive toward that goal." He inhaled deeply through his nose and turned back to the map. "If they're not at the rest stop when we get there tomorrow, there's only 3 counties for the group to go to." He folded up the map and handed it back over to Michonne, who accepted it back with a raised brow. "We're leaving in the morning." He decided.

"Who the hell put you in charge?" Andrea challenged.

"Reality." He responded.

"The reality is," she sneered, "We could have left your useless ass behind, but we didn't."

"Yep." He agreed nonchalantly. "Little too late to go back on that decision now, but it's good to know what you would do if you could go back." He turned his attention to the little munchkin that still clung to him like a new accessory and everything in him softened, "Hey, butterfly, can you let go for a sec? I really gotta go to the bathroom."

"You shouldn't go off on your own, you just woke up!" The girl protested in concern, looking up at him.

"I won't be alone, I got Athena-" He stopped short. Oh, right. He'd actually forgotten for a minute. He chuckled sadly. "Don't worry, I'll just be on the opposite side of the laneway. Where are my weapons?" He questioned stiffly with delayed realization, looking to either woman.

Michonne nodded her chin. "Everything we took off you was stuffed into the glove compartment."

"I'll be 5 minutes." He promised the girl. "If something happens, I'll scream and you come save me." After a moment of reluctance, she released him, stepping back. He booped her fondly on the nose; he guessed that there was someone who wouldn't have left him behind. He armed himself back up with his stuff from the glove compartment. He still had the empty sheath for the kukri knife he'd given Rick, but he could easily just switch it out with the one in his pack. Sophia was strapped up with the sheath belonging to the KBAR from his boot, but he still had other knives handy.

"And put this on, why don't you!" Andrea chucked a crumpled shirt at him after he straightened.

He caught it before it could hit the ground. "Am I not pretty enough for you, Andrea?"

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings?" She mocked back.

Marshall chuckled darkly, carefully slipping on what looked like an old workout hoodie. "It's almost like you think your opinion matters to me."

"Screw you!"

"Again, no, thank you." He turned and left, smirking to himself as he heard her mutter 'asshole!'. He hopped onto the hood and scooted over to the other side. Thing One and Thing Two shadowed him until their leashes pulled taut, and they just watched him, heads tilting left and right like a bird stalking its prey.

Marshall looked around curiously as he walked across the partition of grass that separated the laneways. Nothing seemed to change in the 2 days he'd been out of it, but for the outer ring of dead that lined their barricade of cars, the highway was devoid of life. He remained unmolested as he crossed but still kept an eye out as he unzipped and relieved himself. It would not do to be caught out with his dick out. That being said, he was not as alone as he'd originally believed, much like that piranha in the headlights like with Rick. When he finally finished, he simply tucked himself back in and strolled back to camp.

"Got a little voyeur down there impaled on a tree limb, still jerking around like a forgotten Halloween decoration." He stated when he returned to the woman on watch. "Good thing I'm not squirt-gun shy, I really had to go."

Andrea's lip curled. "You pissed on it?!"

"Why was that your first thought?" He was taken aback by the immediate accusation. "Of course, I didn't urinate on the living corpse—other than being completely unnecessary and immoral—if it manages to wiggle itself free and gets up here, I don't want to grapple with a piss-soaked piranha, even if it is my own." Marshall paused at the covered truck bed where Sophia was set up with the kittens, the front of the truck filling in a wedge of the barricade. He gave a low, impressed whistle. "Looks like you've been busy, butterfly!"

There was a bed made from what looked like the remnants of someone else's hurriedly packed wardrobe, brightly coloured summer dresses. The broken off lid of a cooler made into a litter box filled with roadside dirt. A little container for water, another for the wet food that Sophia had managed to snatch from the cat stall. He also spotted his and Michonne's packs. Distracted by the new face, the kittens mewed and scrambled to him, abandoning the shoelaces the girl had been enticing them with. He reached his left arm over the tailgate to greet them.

"Michonne thought it'd be easier for you to rest if they weren't crawling all over you." Sophia informed him, scooting closer on her knees.

"That was thoughtful." He let his fingers get gnawed and batted by soft little paws. "Michonne and Andrea take care of you?"

Sophia frowned a little, but nodded. "I l-like Michonne."

"That's good. Did you feel safe with her?" Marshall's voice was deceptively casual, but he would take her answer utterly serious. If Michonne made her uncomfortable...

"She's in-intense." But not the same intense like Ed or Shane that made her want to shrivel-up, but the kind of intense her mom got when she straightened her shoulders like a shield. "A little scary." She admitted, but that was because the woman was still a stranger, she thought. "But she's a little weird, too. But, like... your kind of weird."

"So... the good-weird, then?"

"Yeah!" She giggled. "She's quiet and intense, but not in a scary way. And sad." She clarified better. Marshall hummed noncommittally in acknowledgement. "I- I think-" Sophia stopped, scratching at a stain on the thigh of her coveralls with her nail. She shuffled closer to the tailgate, glancing up through the side window to where the subject of their conversation was currently by the horses, empting one of the bottles of creek water into the homemade trough created from the body of that cooler-lid turned litter box. She kept her head down as she whispered the secret: "I think she's-she's a... mom." And all the terrible implications behind that.

Michonne was alone.

Marshall reached forward, gently tucking loose locks of strawberry-blond behind her ear with a sad exhale. When she glanced at him through her lashes, she looked guilty like she'd said some terrible thing. "I don't think anyone exactly has a 'happy' back-story Now. Though I believe you're one of the few that actually lucked out at the end of the world."

She looked up at him fully, her brow crinkled. "I did?!"

"Hm." He booped her on the nose. "You're like a phoenix rising from the ashes. You're father can never hurt you or your mama ever again. You've found a great group that cares about you and found your best-friend. Sometimes from calamity come joys. Life's just one big adventure now."

"I've never thought about it like that." She murmured in wonder. "What about you?"

"Well, let's think of it like this—if the world never ended... I never would have met you." He told her softly. "And that would be a tragedy I would be unable to comprehend." He held out his left hand fore a high-five, "Strike 3 in favour of the apocalypse?" Sophia slapped her smaller hand against his with a bit of a watery giggle. "Alright, I'll be back in a minute, I just gotta chat with Michonne."

"Okay." She mumbled.

"Okay." He echoed with a chuckle, chucking her under the chin like Patricia did to him before he stepped away. Marshall's fingertips rasped against the scruff that had accumulated over the past days when he scratched his cheek as he made his way the short distance to the samurai in their midst. "Hey, Boo-Boo!" He cooed in greeting, smooching the stallion on the cheek as he nickered. Marshall took a moment to rest his forehead on his nose, sharing air, grateful that he'd at least got to save Boomer and Hopscotch from the same terrible fate as Nelly and the rest. Hopscotch lipped at his hoodie, breathing down his neck. "And you, too, Hopscotch." He chuckled, turning to give some affection to her as well.

"Hey, Samurai-sama?" He called. The woman in question glanced over from where she had a little coffee can fire going, small pot of water balanced on top waiting to boil, her eyebrow raised. "Thank you." Marshall said with deep sincerity. "For not taking off—whether that was just on your own, or just not leaving me behind like Andrea said. For taking care of Sophia, the horses, the cats. The camp. That ring of dead piranha around camp is a clever concept, like a scent barrier."

Michonne raised a brow. "How do you know it was my idea and not Andrea's?"

Marshall's eyebrow mirrored hers. "I'll give credit where it's due. You tell me it was and I'll go over there right now and give her the same compliment."

"I'm kind of tempted to do that, just to see if you'll go through with that—but the last thing we need so soon is another catfight between you two."

Marshall chuckled. "But, seriously. Keeping shit together, taking care of business. And me. I know I can become a bit of a princess when I'm bedridden, whether that's with injury or illness—and this was a bit of both, so-"

"No worse than a 1-year-old, trust me." Michonne responded with her own amusement, forgetting for just a second. Where she was, who she was talking to. Her expression steeled as she looked down at the pot. She had a couple tin cups and a small jar of instant coffee next to her.

Marshall didn't remark on the sudden 180, and her reaction alone to that slip-of-the-tongue, confirmed in his mind what Sophia had hypothesized: Michonne was a mom and her child was gone. He could never know an ounce of that particular devastation, and he could only be grateful that he'd prevented Carol from experiencing that with every intention of accomplishing that goal again. "Still, even at the end of the end of the world I doubt Andrea would have taken up that daunting task. So, what else did I miss, then?"

"Nothing particularly exciting. The piranha have been sparse but present." Marshall was secretly pleased that she decided to call them 'piranha' instead of 'walker'. Maggie and Hershel had fallen easily into that. "The most dramatic thing that happened was you calling Andrea 'auntie'."

"Oh," He huffed, fiddling with Hopscotch's mane. "And I bet she took that like some kind of insult—when, if anything, it's the best damn compliment I could give anyone!" Marshall wasn't best pleased with it either, the only thing those two women had in common was that they were blonde, blue-eyed, and female. Otherwise, they had nothing mutual of substance. "Is that why she's giving me this particular intensity of stink-eye since I woke up?"

"It might also be because you're a self-righteous, controlling, sexist pig." Michonne informed him bluntly.

"What...?" He uttered, taken aback.

"Or, at least, that's what she's told me."

Oh. Andrea. Of course. Now that made more sense. The blonde woman seemed to be as impressed with him as he was with her. Self-righteous, controlling, and a sexist pig, huh? Well, he called her incompetent once in not so many words, so, you know, all things equal, he supposed. "Well," He remarked. "Everyone's entitled to their opinion."

She admitted, "Not exactly the reaction I was expecting."

"Was I supposed to go off on her? Start bitching and moaning?" He asked wryly. "I think it's pretty clear by now that we're not each others' biggest fans."

"I never knew." She deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes even as his lip twitched in amusement. "She tell you all that in a bid to get you to leave me behind?" It was a bit sarcastic, but mostly serious. He needed to know if Andrea was a threat lingering under the shield of his wings.

"She was just talking shit. She'd never make it out here on her own as she is now. No matter how much she resents you, she needs you to get her back to the rest of your group."

"Perhaps," he agreed thoughtfully. "But you're here now. Whole, hale, and kick-ass—and not me—a promising upgrade, I'd say. Me being down for the count would have made for the best opportunity to turn you against me."

Michonne shook her head, dolling out a single scoop of instant into the simmering pot of water. "If she really wanted you dead, she never would have stopped me from cutting off your head in the woods. Coffee?" She offered.

"I don't drink coffee." He declined absently.

"What are you, some kind of freak?"

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Lil' bit. Or so I've been informed—by several different sources. Anyway," Marshall disagreed with her earlier comment, "In that moment, she was actually relieved to see me, for her not to be the only one that made it off the farm alive—even if it was just me."

Michonne shrugged as she poured the coffee into the tin cups. "It's your life." She glanced up at the approaching blond. "I just know if that was ever in the cards, she'd never do it directly herself. Not now, at least."

Marshall just hummed noncommittally. Maybe, but he could also recall a few situations where she would have been more than willing to put a few bullets into his back.

"It's been quiet all morning." Andrea announced upon her arrival, accepting the tin cup offered up to her. "Thanks." She blew on the hot liquid. "What about you guys?"

"Just chatting about you plotting my eventual demise." He quipped.

Andrea sputtered and choked on her coffee. "What?!"

"Relax." Marshall said. "It was just a joke. Like... leaving me behind, right?"

"Right." Andrea watched him suspiciously.

"We're just at that stage in our relationship where we can joke about killing each other off."

"What's your problem?"

"My problem." He step out from between the two dappled horses and Andrea immediately shifted her stance warily. "My problem." He repeated. "Hm. Well, it's the end of the world and fate saw it fit to stick the two of us together—talk about Hell on Earth." He mused. "But we're stuck together, whether we find the others tomorrow at the rest stop or not, so I say we clear some things up, set some ground rules." He suggested amicably.

"Ground rules?" Andrea scoffed at him. "This isn't some summer camp."

"No, it's life and death. Every action has consequences. First impression are hard to overwrite. There is little opportunity for second chances. And your first impression left a lot to be desired."

"Are you kidding me? That was a mistake!" she protested.

"No, what the mistake was, was putting you on watch with a gun you're not qualified to handle. You purposefully disobeyed Rick-"

"I'm not a fucking soldier!"

"No, soldiers are competent and have common sense."

"Where was the common sense in having a barn full of walkers?" She tried to throw in his face.

"Oh, no," he mocked, "But it was common sense to incite a mob and create an ambush to bust open the barn doors and have a big grand shoot-out!"

"That was Shane." She seethed.

"He may have been the ringleader, but you were his right-hand." He corrected. "But that's beside the point, this isn't about what went down at the barn, per se, this is about you personally. Your actions, your decisions, and how they effect this group." He gestured to indicate them, here, now. The four of them. "I told you before—I don't give a fuck what gender you are. I care if you're competent with a gun, can keep a cool head in chaos, and follow simply instruction."

Andrea tried to punch him. Anger filled her eyes, she dropped the tin cup of coffee with a clank and threw a right hook. Marshall easily misdirected the punch with his left arm. Michonne rose to her feet warily, guarded as her dark gaze darted between the two.

"You really just tried to punch me? Are you fucking kidding me, lady?" Marshall questioned. "Weren't you some kind of lawyer Before? Is this how you reacted in court against the opposition? Over a critique?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" she returned. "A little criticism?"

"Yes. Constructive criticism," He agreed. "All things you can rectify if you choose to."

"Marshall?" A nervous voice called before the blonde woman could continue to try and bite his head off. All three adults turned to look at the 12-year-old.

"Butterfly. You alright?"

"I heard y-yelling." Her gaze flickered to Andrea before quickly dropping, shuffling her feet awkwardly under the combined attention of their gazes. Marshall didn't yell.

"Nothing to worry about, it's just a disagreement." He told her.

"Okay." She said after a moment. "I found something for you to eat." She told him with a little more pep.

"Thank you. I'm actually pretty hungry. I'll be over in a minute, okay?"

"Okay." She echoed, blue gaze darting to each of them for a moment before she turned back to the truck.

The instant Marshall turned his attention back to the woman, his entire demeanour shifted. Any softness for Sophia vanished as his gaze landed on Andrea. "You hate me? Good for you, but that's not my problem. My problem..." He chuckled emptily. "My problem, is that you're dangerous, Andrea, but you're not dangerous in the way that Michonne is dangerous. You are dangerous in your incompetence and your pride." Andrea opened her mouth in defence. "Shut up." He told her, deathly and low. Her mouth clicked closed. "I have had it up to here with your posturing bullshit. You took that shot to try and 'prove' yourself. You didn't think about the four people that were between you and your targets. You nearly killed Daryl. You could have killed that little girl." His stare was like the crossbones on a poison bottle. "You pull that same bullshit out here... Rick and Daryl aren't here to save you. You put Sophia in danger like that again," He took a step closer, his breath like a death whisper, "I will toss you to the piranha with zero hesitation and regret. I am getting that child back to her mama, I am going to see my sisters again—you do not want to be the obstacle that gets in my way.

"Do.

"You.

"Understand?"

Andrea's lips were tight. Her stare was resentful, but shadowed behind that was fear. She certainly wanted to throw another punch, but she had to know it would never land. Not at this distance, not when it was obvious to be expecting it. Perhaps she'd throw him a curve ball and knee him in the junk. She wouldn't be able to absolute power behind it, but it would be a sure hit. He could see the furious urge in her eyes. He waited, gaze never wavering, curious to see if she could curb the impulse.

Instead: "Got it." She finally muttered.

Marshall didn't move, didn't blink as he regarded her for a moment longer—this whole event certainly didn't endear him to her or her to him—before he stepped back. The moment he did, the tension and threat eased from his posture. The hard edges in his expression smoothed away and he went back to looking more boyish than soldier.

"I'm glad we can finally agree on something, Andrea!" He said pleasantly. "We already off to a great start in this second chance." He glanced down at the overturned tin cup and the splash of liquid on the blacktop that was quickly evaporating in the sun with a mild frown. "You shouldn't waste precious supplies for petty endeavours—especially ones that don't land."

"You're still an asshole." She cursed at him.

"And that's your right." He looked to their silent audience, "Enjoy your coffee, Samurai-sama." He told her genuinely. Her expression was unreadable as she regarded him and she said nothing back when he turned and left, but her hand hadn't been poised on the hilt of her katana so he took that as a win.

When he made it to the truck, he climbed over the tailgate and into the bed, settling down cross-legged with a quiet groan. He was instantly swarmed by excitable kitties, Patches purring as she brushed against him in greeting. "I'm sorry if I scared you back there, butterfly."

"You didn't!" Sophia assured him quickly.

Marshall nodded after a moment to be sure she wasn't just trying to appease him or anything, but she didn't break eye contact. "I'm glad." He smiled. "So, what'd you find me for lunch? I haven't eaten in days!"

"It's not much," she admitted in embarrassment, handing him over the can. "Nothing like that stew you gave me."

"Don't worry about none of that." He read the can label, "Beans & Franks, huh?"

"You don't like it." Sophia stated.

"No, no. It's fine." He promised. He liked beans just fine, not exactly his favourite, but there was at least five things he liked worst. They also made him painfully gassy, but like he'd just told Andrea: don't waste supplies over petty things. He cracked and pulled back the tab at the top of the can, peeling back the lid. His stomach gurgled emptily at the faint scent that entered the air. He belatedly realized that he didn't have a spoon, but before he could ask Sophia to grab his pack, she thrust her own spoon at him.

"Here!"

"Thanks, butterfly." He took the spoon and dug right in. It was cold, lacked any seasoning, and the sauce was a bit congealed, but hungry as he was, he quickly woofed it down. "Ah, that hit the spot!" He set the can out of the way and let Patches lick the remaining sauce from the spoon. "Tomorrow, hopefully, you'll be back with your mama. I'm sorry that my fever delayed us."

"That's okay. I'm just glad that you're better."

"Me, too. So, fill me in a little more about what you did while I was resting." He prompted her. "I hear the only reason we have water is because of you!"

...

Bright and early came, and after a quick breakfast, Marshall and Michonne saddled the horses back up and Sophia got the cats back into the dreaded carrier. After pushing the corner car away to its own rolling stop, they set off toward the rest stop. The horses weren't happy to have Thing One and Thing Two once again chained to their caboose, but Hopscotch settled a little more quickly with the idea, especially once they got on the move and there was less of a chance of Thing One catching up to her.

It was almost hard to believe they were in the apocalypse with the empty stretch of road ahead of them and the birds chirping so merrily—until you came across the corpse in the middle of the road, its head nothing more than a skid mark, at least:

keep thoughts high in the sky
you're like a big kite
that's flying from people
who want to keep you down
down in the crowds
where they're always breakin' out
watch out for piranhas
there's always piranhas
watch out for piranhas

"Are you kidding right now?" Andrea muttered crossly over to him the next lane over. Up until that moment, the woman had been giving him the silent treatment whether that was while she contemplated what he'd said or was just straight-up plotting his death with intent, remained to be seen.

"What, you don't like my singing voice?"

"Your voice in general irritates me." Andrea muttered. "But that's beside the point—do you want to attract walkers?!"

"It's just a little road trip music." Marshall remarked. "Besides, your yelling is far more disruptive and carrying than my low-key singing.":

ready or not
like it or not
here they come again
it's a shame
but you are just laughing
people want to keep you in the dark
you're always a mess
but you're always a step ahead of the crowd

"Michonne agrees with me—don't you, Michonne?"

Michonne internally sighed at the whiney voice in her ear before shrugging. "While I'm not exactly going to belt out some Ozzy myself, we're not exactly subtle to begin with. They'll come eventually."

Andrea grumbled, discontent:

watch out for piranhas
there's always piranhas
watch out for piranhas
so many times I have been late
while feeling the breeze
tons of hopeless thoughts in me
now I'm free
and now I'm free!

"Boomer and Hopscotch are accustomed with my singing voice, it's something familiar that helps put them at ease." Marshall said. "It's not very relaxing having Thing One and Thing Two stalking their every step."

"So, you're Dr Dolittle now, too?"

Marshall blinked over at her for a moment. "As this is real-life, I cannot literally speak and understand animals, but I have empathy and I raised and trained Boomer since he was foal and his mother rejected him—but you do realize that I am also certified in veterinary medicine and surgery like my daddy?"

"I thought you were a medic in the Army, or something?"

"I am also a trained field medic.":

watch out for piranhas
you can be what you want
it's a matter of time
prepare to be amazed
you're flashing
they're frowning
you flash the clover leaf cheer
it's a game
you're winning
there's always so many piranha

"This is our turnoff." Marshall informed Michonne, nodding his head. He guided Boomer off the road and back into the woods off the side. He peeled back the Velcro cover on his watch to refer to the compass there and made sure he had the correct orientation and heading. "It's also educational—like the Teddy Bears Picnic." He informed Andrea after several minutes of quiet travel, before he pulled Boomer to a halt, eyeing the two piranha through the trees, tearing into the corpse of an animal. What a waste! "Watch out for piranha, there's always piranha, so many piranha. Ready or not, like it or not." Hopscotch whinnied and the piranhas' attention was diverted from devouring, turning to look at the new arrivals. "Here they come again." They clambered to their feet, and started toward the group. Sophia was tense against him, but silent."Well, let's go, City Girl, show us what you got."

"I thought I was 'incompetent'?" She sneered, watching the walkers anxiously, even as she stumbled getting off the horse. Those few days of no travel were just the rest that her knee had needed to heal—not that she'd even admit it to the man. She pulled the scythe free from the little strap harness she'd rigged up for her back when she'd appropriated the farming tool during Marshall's fever. He hadn't demanded it back yet so she hadn't deigned to offered it up.

"I said you don't know how to shoot a fucking gun, Andrea, not that you couldn't kill piranha." Andrea froze and blinked at him, taken aback. Was that actually a- "Now get your smug ass off your head and kill those piranha already." He rolled his eyes at her.

Seeing like-kind, Thing One and Two tried to meet them halfway. Before they could get far, Andrea shoved them, knocking them to the ground. She scowled up at the man. "Asshole!"

She marched in front of the horses to meet the walkers, gripping the base handle in her left hand, her right the grip that was about halfway up the shaft. It'd taken her some trial and error to figure out the unfamiliar tool. Her annoyance powered her sweeping side swing. The tip of the curved, tapered blade hit the right most walker right through the ear, it went clean through its skull, killing it. As it fell into its companion, the blade manage to finish its journey through the second walker's temple and out its furthest eye.

Andrea was forced to release her hold of the scythe's handle under the combined weight of the two dead walkers as they collapsed to the ground. She grinned victoriously to herself, before she yanked the blade free. A cringe of disgust came next as she had to scrape the ear cartilage of the first walker off on the fallen leaves. It wasn't anything as graceful or fluid as Michonne with her katana, but it most certainly got the job done, no doubt about it! She was smug, a brow raised in silent challenged to the man as she practically strutted back.

"Not bad, City Girl." He drawled.

"Shut up. Stop calling me that."

"You called yourself that." He pointed out as Michonne helped her mount back up. "It used to be Country Barbie, with those boots and that straw hat."

"Pig." She muttered as Michonne pulled ahead, guiding Hopscotch around the two dead piranha and the animal corpse further ahead in the trees.

"'City Girl' it is." He clicked his tongue at Boomer to follow:

watch out for piranhas
there's always piranhas
watch out for piranhas

...

As Marshall had predicted, it had taken the day to reach and thus find the rest stop. That cut through the woods and cutting out a swath of winding road had shortened their journey enough so that even with their mildly late departure, the sun wasn't completely hidden behind the tree coverage.

"It's empty." The blond voiced the obvious as both women dismounted.

"C'mon, Sophia." Marshall murmured, taking the carrier down first. He patted her thigh and presented his left shoulder to her once more. The girl was silent as he set her down on her feet, her expression subdued. He internally sighed, disappointed himself but not very surprised by this turn of events.

"How do we even know they were here in the first place?" Andrea questioned pessimistically, spotting nothing immediate to point that out.

Michonne touched the ashes in the fire pit. They weren't warm or anything, they were stone cold, but: "This was recently burned, within the last few days. So, someone was here..." She tracked down a disposable lighter in her pants pocket—and a stray $50 bill. The economy may not exist anymore, but paper money still had its uses, like kindling for a fire. It was lightweight and surprisingly easy to find while looting corpses.

"Look!" Sophia uttered a quiet cry, grasping Marshall's hand for attention.

He glanced down at her before following where she pointed. In the last dregs of sunlight reflected off the water's surface, was a silhouetted shape of a sign. Marshall squeezed the girl's hand as they walked closer, hope rising in his chest. The rest of the group may not be here, but... "Athena." He uttered it like a prayer. There, in bright neon green spray paint, just as before, fitted onto the smaller frame of what was previously the entrance marker for the rest stop, was the symbol for the Goddess Athena.

When Marshall had come all the way out here to bury that cache, he'd taken down the sign to discourage others who weren't already aware of the rest stop's existence, from finding it. It wasn't much of a rendezvous if someone else found it, was it? Just look at Lou's Orchard. It would have been the perfect place to set up, not just for winter but permanently with the Greene Farm gone—with both shelter and resources—it had just been a matter of chance that Randall's Group had gotten there first. It didn't really matter in the end, because it was the people that mattered, as long as they were out there.

"Well, that's not creepy at all!" Andrea remarked sarcastically, almost jumping as she made unexpected eye contact with a patchwork garden gnome giving her a saucy wink in the romantic glow of the fire on one of the picnic tables.

Michonne turned from the fire pit and stopped by her side and just blinked blankly at it. Marshall snorted and chuckled as he came to investigate what had the blond woman so riled, and saw what had the two so befuddled and disturbed.

"Why's that there?" Sophia asked from his hip. She stepped forward, her hands on the edge of the picnic table as she leaned forward to get a closer look. The table jolted slightly under her weight but it was enough to send the winking garden gnome shattering like a delicate house of cards. She jumped back with a gasp into Marshall behind her. "I didn't mean to!"

"It's fine." He promised her, steady hands on her small shoulders. "It was already broken. They were here." He informed the two women with complete conviction.

"What are you talking about?" Michonne questioned.

"How could you possibly know that?" Andrea tacked on doubtfully, crossing her arms.

"Because, the broken gnome was the breadcrumbs that led to the supply cache I had buried out here." Marshall said. "And before you say 'how do you know it wasn't someone else?', Andrea—without any foreknowledge, say you randomly come across a broken piece of a lawn ornament, is your first thought going to be: 'OMG, this is totally a clue to finding a secret cache of supplies buried somewhere out in the woods!' Or, is it: 'That's fucking weird!' and then just totally dismiss it?" Andrea deigned not to answer. "Also, Beth left another Tag."

"And you couldn't have led with that?" Andrea exclaimed in annoyance.

"No, but I finished with it."

"So—they were here, but they're not anymore. This is your fault!" Andrea accused him.

Yes, Marshall never got the chance to voice his very simple agreement with the woman as he was overridden by a far more loud and aggressive disagreement:

"Shut up, it wasn't his fault!" Sophia shouted at the blond woman. "I heard you! All the horrible and untrue things you were saying about him to Michonne while he was sick." All three adults were taken aback, but none more so than the woman in the direct line of fire. "All Marshall and his family ever did since we stepped foot on their farm, was take care of us. He saved me and Daryl! He's the one that stopped Shane! He's going to bring me back to my mom and all you've done is call him names..."

Andrea stared at her, shocked at such a venomous outburst from the usually quiet, shy, and stuttering girl. She opened her mouth but couldn't find anything to say in her own defence. Her gaze flickered worriedly to Marshall behind the girl with some guilt and mostly wariness, but she needn't have worried—Marshall wasn't glaring at her, let alone even looking at her. No, his green gaze, shinning with wonder, gratitude, and pride was fixed on the strawberry-blond girl that just stood-up for him with neither flinch nor stammer.

Marshall reached out, stroking the short bob before affectionately tugging on a lock of hair. Sophia looked up at him, worried she was in a for a scolding—not only for the outburst, but because it was directed at another adult—but he was just giving her a soft smile. "Look at you, butterfly, breaking out of your shell—and for little ol' me, no less."

He appreciated the girl's defence, but it didn't make him feel any less responsible. He hadn't meant to be down for the count, but he had been. As a result, they'd been delayed 3 days because of his fever, plus 1 day of travel. While it was obvious the group had not been forced to leave the rest stop by another herd of piranha or even another group—the site was clean and nary a thing left behind but a neon green tag—there was no telling how long ago exactly they had left.

They had no reason to stay, the rest stop was just a way station for them to rest and get their bearings before moving on to try and find a more permanent residence for winter. There was hope that they were still alive, but there was no tangible to reason to base their survival plans around it. That's all Beth's Tags were: A sign of Hope.

"C'mon, now. Let's set up camp for the night," He told the two women simply and addressed the last part to the girl, "See if we can't rig up a pen for the kittens so they won't wander too far during the night, huh?"

"Alright." Sophia nodded.

The horses ended up stripped of gear and tethered by the brook for easy access to the water and where the most vegetation grew. Thing One and Thing Two were chained on either side where the tree line was, while the narrow path that lead back to the road would be checked by the person on watch; two hour shifts, three shifts, one person each. The temporary cat pen was assembled under the roofed patio via disassembling one of the picnic benches, and the sleeping arrangements were around the fire pit.

They sat around the fire after eating a quiet dinner of more canned food, Sophia snuggled warming against Marshall's side already dozing. Michonne sat fiddling with the broken piece of the gnome's face as she stared into the flames, while Andrea sat across the fire on the edge of a bench, hunched over and absently flicked broken twigs into the fire.

"I think I found one of your caches." Michonne's low voice broke the silence.

"Yeah?" Marshall looked over at her curiously.

"Mm. Looking at your... treasure map, seeing your breadcrumbs," She held up the broken winking porcelain face, "Yeah. One of the ones closer to the city. I managed to get out before they starting bombing—not that I realized that was coming in the first place—not in the 'Safe Zone'. I had no supplies, didn't know how to hunt. The guns from all the dead soldiers were easy pickings, but I didn't see the point when I don't know how to shoot. All I had with me was my sword and their great company," She nodded her head over at Thing One and Thing Two lingering in the shadowed edges of the firelight. "I was exhausted, hungry, dehydrated—and there it was... a purple and orange spotted mushroom the size of my damn head. I thought I was losing my mind!"

"Yeah, that was kinda the point." He snickered.

"Wait," Andrea interrupted in realization. "You were actually at one of the Safe Zone camps in the city? That's insane. Like sardines in a can."

"My biggest regret." Michonne admitted gravely. Her grip white-knuckled the porcelain piece as she stared into the fire seeing her past play in the orange flames. The only reason her palm wasn't sliced open and bleeding was because of her fingerless leather gloves. "At the beginning. It was supposed to be safe, secure—but I guess someone was bitten and managed to hide it from the soldiers. It got overrun-" She shook her head.

"Or someone just simply died and no one realized it." Marshall pointed out. Both women turned to him with looks of confusion. "What? Oh, right." He realized. "Though you already know this, Andrea... I guess I should have said..." He glanced to Michonne.

"What?" Andrea said.

"You don't have to get bitten or scratched to turn. We're all infected with this shit, so... you know, you fall down the stairs and break your neck, you have a heart attack, you starve—you still turn."

"What?!" Andrea exclaimed angrily, startling Sophia awake. "No, I don't-!" She started but then stopped, realization hitting like a sledgehammer. "Oh, my God! Dale!? That's how he- T-Dog said he wasn't bit or scratched." Her eyes teared up. "Shane just killed him and he turned anyway. I never realized-"

"And his name was BINGO." Andrea was too lost in her head to bite his off.

"What's happening?" Sophia mumbled groggily.

"Don't worry, you're safe, go back to sleep, butterfly." He stroke her arm. She mumbled incoherently, but settled back down, curling up sleepily into his lap instead of curled up against his side. He carefully picked the butterfly clips from her hair so they wouldn't break or get lost in her sleep. He regarded the silent woman next to him. Michonne's brow was furrowed and her mouth was tight, but she didn't explode outwardly like Andrea had. He caught her attention, "That near the city, the few supply drops I bothered to put out there... were only small ones."

She nodded. "Just a pack—but also just what I needed."

"Well," He smiled at her. "I'm glad you found it, Samurai-sama."

"Everything in there has a use. I was surprised by the pack of tampons, though." She added wryly. "But like I said: Everything had its use."

"Toilet paper, tampons, toothpaste." He chuckled. "All as essential as the next. And gum. Gum is a must."

"Yeah. At the end of the world you don't really think about what's going to come 2 weeks from now, until it does and you realize how screwed you are. I was already running low when I came across you, and now with the 2 of us... 3 of us?" She corrected with a question, glancing at the girl in his lap. "It's got the same urgency as food."

"Yeah. Once my shoulder heals enough, food won't be such a problem when I can use my bow and go hunting. As for said hygiene items... that's a little more tricky. And..." he looked down at Sophia as well, "I don't know. She's only 12. It hasn't been my business. Hopefully, we'll find the group and her mama before that happens."

"So, you can handle tampons but not dealing with the actual period?" Michonne teased.

"None of that bothers me—it's just another bodily function. I have two sisters, I've had female companions, I've worked with female soldiers. I just think it would be less traumatising not to have it while we're on the move and on horseback, and more comforting and less embarrassing to have her mama teach her than me or even you."

"Yeah." Michonne conceded the point. "But from what I've seen, she's a tough cookie."

"Oh, yeah." He grinned. "No doubt! When Athena and I found her in the woods, she was fighting off 3 piranha. She was exhausted and frightened, and despite me killing the piranha and saving her, she didn't trust me a lick!" It was said with glee. "She was scared out of her mind but she didn't let it debilitate her. She killed two piranha herself at the farm." He shook his head in wonder, "I knew as soon as I saw her, she was a warrior." They fell to companionable silence for a bit after that, nothing but the warm crackle of the fire, the soft babbling brook.

A while later, he broke the silence this time. "I'll take second watch." Marshall said. It was categorized as the worst because you barely got any sleep before you were called up, and barely managed to fall asleep again before you had to get up to start the day. It was a familiar legacy for him though, so he'd have a better time adjusting to it.

"I'll take first." Andrea mumbled, breaking her silent streak. "I don't think I can sleep right now, might as well make use of it."

"I guess that leaves me with last." Michonne said, tossing the piece of porcelain into the fire, watching the winking face blacken and char under the heat.

"Sounds good." Marshall didn't have to go very far to settle down. He and Sophia were already on the sleeping bag, so he simply folded it over her legs and shifted down enough so that he could curl up on his left side around her. A barrier to the cold. He started to hum, settling her back down, head pillowed on his arm, at the moment, as content as could be in the circumstances—they were safe, after all. Still, as Marshall looked out into the twinkling night sky with a fading gaze, felt like he was forgetting something...

Important…

Like a dream he couldn't remember...

[tWD]

she was away from home and lost in the night
her place was far, too far away to find

"He called me 'auntie', what the hell?!" Andrea crossed her arms.

Michonne sighed, rising from the open back door. "He clearly has a fever."

"I look nothing like her." Andrea muttered. "She was more than 20 years older than me."

"Was she also blond and blue-eyed?" Michonne wondered wryly.

"We watched her die." Sophia spoke-up, though her voice was quiet. All attention snapped to her. "She got b-bite earlier. She threw herself into the arms of the wal- the walkers, so we could- so that we could get away." She wrapped her thin arms around herself. "She screamed for so long. She was in so much pain as they- as they ate her!"

he was alone and happy to see someone new
he said it's nice to spend the night with you

"What's up between you and Marshall?" Michonne couldn't help but question, curious despite herself. But if she was going to stick around, she wanted to know what she was getting into.

"Nothing!" Andrea scowled

"So, he's not an ex?"

"No way!" Andrea gagged. "Not in a million years! Not even at the end of the world."

"What did he do to garner such animosity?" Michonne watched the woman's expression carefully. Nothing she had observed or experienced of the younger man so far indicated that she shouldn't trust him—other than the hostility those two seemed to hold for each other—but if she was going to break-off, given a reason, now would be the opportune time. Marshall was out of commission, she could take the horses, even take Andrea and Sophia, and leave Marshall here to die alone...

A lot of things flashed through Andrea's eyes that Michonne couldn't catch, but she did see grief, hesitation, pride, sadness, calculation before it all just coalesced into a swirl of indignant anger.

The blond scoffed. "He's a self-righteous, controlling, sexist pig!"

Michonne's brows went up but conveyed nothing else in her expression. She said nothing and turned her attention back to watch as the other woman silently seethed. Nothing to worry about then—just Andrea's fragile pride.

nobody told me
it would be lonely
maybe we're going
where we're supposed to be

Her mom had stopped her from seeing him after Shane shot him. She wasn't going to accept that restriction again with Marshall sick—least of all from Andrea.

he said come with me, I'll take you back
even though it would surely make me sad
she said maybe we'll be together soon
remember me and take this all with you

When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she knew it wasn't her who he saw. When he smiled and opened his arms to her. When he called her 'Sunny' instead of 'Butterfly'. But she fell into his arms anyway, pressed her cheek against over-warm skin, let his heartbeat echo with relief in her ear. Tried to stifle her crying as he brushed trembling fingers through his messy, greasy hair.

nobody told me
it would be lonely
where are we going?
feels like I'm frozen

She trusted Marshall. Felt safe with him. He was her friend. She looked up to him despite such a short time in knowing him. Marshall took care of her and held more concern for her than her own father ever did—Marshall also never looked at her the way Ed sometimes had. The way he did that made her mom nervous and purposefully anger him to draw his attention away from his daughter.

he wasn't scared
he was terrified
he was alone, he was sure, he was gonna die alone
he felt a tear and he multiplied
he let go
and it felt
kinda like he was going home.

"I wish you were my dad." The confession fell onto fevered ears.

[...tbc...]

...The walking DEAD...

---

Tripping Daisies - Piranha
Where Jellyfish Come From - Lonely [Bee and Puppycat Ep 8 "Dogs"
Written By: Brad Sucks]

...

I am a bit leery as to Michonne's character. I think I made her too open/friendly(?) rather fast.

The first we saw of her in the show was in an established (8 month?) relationship with Andrea, so who can say what the beginning of that was like. But I think Marshall's genuine demeanour, the presence of Sophia, the kittens, and even the horses, would naturally soften her up, as opposed to her instincts about the Governor, and her first encounter with crazy!Rick at the prison. She is naturally wary of Marshall and he, her. But Marshall can also recognize her strength, and the fact that with his injury, they could use that strength, especially if they don't find the rest of the group as fast as he hopes.

Sophia was the one that was singing to Marshall while he was fevered, in the end bit. And I repurposed some stuff from my original-original Shane concept [located in end notes in CHAPTER 5] when Marshall got heatstroke. I needed to delay them so they wouldn't catch up with the rest of the Group at the rest stop, because they would have, and that would just be boring, right? *awkward laugh*

So, WINTER, next chapter, promise. I swear. But, I think, retrospectively? (*weaving thrown carrot daggers* 'hey! Don't go wasting supplies, we're in an apocalypse here!). Time Skip? I guess we'll see, my fair readers, when I write/post the next chapter!