ethreal | the walking dead

XVIII

     "Have I mentioned I really like your new haircut?" Glenn said as Shane tightened the rope. "You have a nice shaped head."

     "Don't worry about it, bud. We're gonna get you out of here in one piece.", Shane reassured.

     "Living piece. That living part is important.", Glenn stated. 

     "I won't let anything happen to you.", [Y/n] says directly to Glenn. [Y/n] was scared, he had to admit, but he also trusts Glenn to do this more than anyone else.

    "[Y/n]."

     [Y/n] turned around. Daryl was stood with his crossbow over his shoulder and [Y/n]'s tool belt. "Let's go."

     "I'm in the middle of something...", [Y/n] stated. He turned back around but Daryl grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

     "Let's go.", Daryl ordered. It didn't look like he was going to say it again. [Y/n] looked at his brother. For some reason, he felt like he had to obey Daryl.

     "He'll be ok. We won't let him get hurt.", Maggie stepped up. [Y/n] gave her a worried look before following Daryl away.

     "You're a grouch.", [Y/n] insulted. Daryl stayed quiet and gave him a quick glare.

     "Don't you wanna find Sophia?"

     [Y/n] looked down at his feet while they walked. Daryl glanced at [Y/n] again and held the tool belt towards the male's waist. [Y/n] took it, and slid it through his pant loops.

     "Thank you."

     The two continued through the woods for a good while; hurdling over fallen trees, kicking rocks and earning a few scratches from walking through a thorn bush. They stayed silent their entire way to the upcoming house. It looked abandoned and worn.

     Daryl shouldered his crossbow and observed the building. [Y/n] watched the house's surrounding and hoped Sophia would be in there, hiding in a closet somewhere.

     Daryl raised two fingers and waved at [Y/n] to follow him, then he took his crossbow off his back and pulled an arrow out.

     It was as [Y/n] assumed. Abandoned and worn. The place was torn apart with curtains ripped, broken glass on the floor, rotting wood, chairs on the floor like they were thrown. Daryl had kicked the door open with his crossbow aimed, waiting for anything flesh eating.

     "Clear," [Y/n] whispered after checking a room to the right. 

     They both spun to the thudding sounds from between them. It was dead silent, the wind was louder than anything. Daryl checked another room before digging into a trashcan, pulling a newly opened can of food. 

     [Y/n] tip-toed to a closet that looked to be a pantry, Daryl pointing his crossbow at the door. [Y/n] put three fingers up. Then two... then one. He flung the door open and the pantry looked like a make-shift hideout that a kid would make behind the living room couch. 

     They both walk out the back door, "Sophia!", Daryl called. He walked along the back of the house calling her name with [Y/n] until he spotted two white flowers in a bush. 

     "What are those?" [Y/n] asked, kneeling beside Daryl.

     "Cherokee Roses.", Daryl answered. He grabbed the stem and pulled the flowers out of the ground. [Y/n] stood up with Daryl and the huntsman held out one of the flowers to him. 

     "Cherokee Roses would grow where the tears of the Cherokee mother's would fall when their children died. It'd give them courage to keep going.", Daryl mumbled. [Y/n] almost couldn't catch what he was saying but he smiled. A real smile.