OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
[ xxiv. people are worse ]
june 30th, 2012
➸➸➸
"I KNOW WHAT I saw."
With a sigh of frustration, Astrid ran her fingers through her tousled, chestnut locks. Each strand seemed to hold the memory of those black eyes she had glimpsed amid the inky darkness of the trees the previous night. She had barely been able to close her own eyes for more than a few seconds at a time since. She was certain that someone, or something, had been watching them, and that they were still close by.
The sun had now risen on a new day, casting its pale light over the group as they continued their unmarked path through the thickets of trees. Astrid walked between Daryl and Rick, the three of them locked in a tense discussion. The latter found himself at a loss for words as he broached the topic. "So, whatever you heard last night . . ." Rick began but trailed off, his voice faltering.
"Someone was watching us," Astrid growled. "I don't know who it was or if there were others, but I know what I saw. There were eyes in the trees. They were watching me. Watching all of us."
Astrid's gaze shifted to the group that followed in their wake. Her eyes settled first on Bailey, who walked in quiet conversation with Carl. Astrid had tried to talk to Carl alone that morning, hoping to gather more information about Bailey's injury, but the boy was not yet ready to share what he knew—if he knew anything. Since her fiery outburst the previous day, Astrid still had not managed to have a conversation with the young girl.
As they moved forward, Rick fell back, issuing an authoritative command. "Stay close," He ordered, retreating to walk in stride with Abraham. This left Astrid and her hunter to lead the way.
Daryl's stare still lingered on Astrid, even as they walked, his brow furrowed with concern for her. "You don't have to believe me," She grumbled to him. "I know my head hasn't been clear. I know everything's just been off, and—"
"I believe you. Don't you ever doubt that," Daryl asserted. "I jus' . . . don't get it. If someone was watchin' us, how could they cover their tracks?"
Astrid did not know, and her thoughts churned with a mixture of anger and trepidation as a result. The relentless gnawing in the pit of her stomach—the gnawing that had persisted ever since she had first glimpsed those unsettling eyes—was almost unbearable. She clenched her jaw to suppress her nausea.
"Were you checking in the right area?" Astrid eventually questioned as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
Daryl nodded. "I searched the whole camp before we left. Went back to where we were, too," He insisted. "There was nothin' to find."
"That just doesn't make sense," She bristled. "Daryl, you taught me how to track. No one can cover up their tracks like that. Not in that kind of hurry. What if I actually did imagine it? It's the only logical—"
