ᴀɴɢᴜɪsʜ » ᴅᴀʀʏʟ ᴅɪxᴏɴ

{34} Fighting Spirit

Her small arms hugged the tree branch as she carefully adjusted her feet. With knitted brows, a seven-year-old Willow Hunter looked down to the ground. She felt as if she had climbed a ten-story building, shaking underneath the pressure of complete danger. Below the tree stood a Will Hunter, his green eyes watching his daughter struggle. Handsome face gaping with calculation.

"Daddy, I can't!" Willow whimpered in her slight southern drawl. "I need help!"

"What did we talk about, love bug?" William took a few steps to his right to be underneath Willow. "Sometimes you gotta do things on your own. Not everyone is here to help you when you need it the most. Keep trying! I'll be here to catch you if you fall!"

Willow swallows, rephasing his words in her head as she shifted her small feet. The girl so desperately wanted nothing more but to please her father. She might not have been a boy, but she did everything a boy would do to keep up with William. Instead of crying, Willow pushed back the tears and began to climb down the tree. With each step, she thought of the next with much attention.

William egged her on from the base of the tree. Giving her the confidence that she needed to keep going. Her father is the main reason for pushing forward.

With cautious and planned motions, Willow slowly began to descend the tree much quicker than before. She slips here and there, catching herself, and shaking off the shocked reaction. With every moment and the thought of getting closer to the ground, Willow grew excited. With the help of her father, she found the strength to climb down. Landing into his arms once reaching the last branch.

The two cheered with happiness. Pleased by Willow's determination.

"See what you can do, love bug," William exclaimed, setting his daughter down in front of him, then with a wide grin, poked her chest where her heartbeats. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I see somethin' special in you."

Willow returns his grin with a shy smile, taking her father's hands into hers. Unaware of the future being written in the stars.

***

One foot steady, and the other leaning her slightly forward, Willow pulled back her bowstring. Eyes twinkle in the darkness as she hears footsteps approaching ahead of her. The man who had been hunting her now the pray as she cocked her head. With one snap, the arrow sped through the night air and hit her victim in the forehead.

With a painful groan, the man falls back, a shadow of surprise forming across his final manifestation. Willow narrowed her gaze, quickly climbing down the thick of the tree with ease. Then, without hesitation, took her arrow out of his skull.

With some speed, Willow began to run in the darkness. For a moment, she took knelt behind a bush to go through the bag stolen from the unknown man a yard away.

A bottle of whiskey found its way into her palm. With a smile, she wiggles off her flannel and rips the fabric into even pieces. The sound of walkers and men shouting made her glance over her shoulder as she took the cap from the bottle.

The words from her father echo inside of her head. She hated him. Wanted him locked away for all the shit he had caused, however, Willow still remembered the positives. The lectures he would give her to keep going. Now, as she fought for her life, Willow remembered that day as if it were yesterday. As many times as she separated from the group, Willow now knew she could fight and hold her own. Even if she has to die trying.

Willow snaps her attention back onto the bottle and carefully poured the liquid onto the torn flannel. She then shoved the drenched article into the mouth of the bottle, taking a lighter from out of her flannel pocket.