Young and Young at Heart (The Rewrite of The Walking Dead Game: S2) [TWDG/TWD]

17. Strange Bedfellows

Moving through the forest went slowly. Christa struggled to maintain a good pace, and as the day moved on, Pete's leg seemed to bother him more with every step, despite his insistence it wasn't. Every wayward noise also caused the group to stop for a while, paranoid of an imminent attack.

As they pushed deeper into the woods, Clem kept expecting to find the body of the dog that bit her. She wasn't sure why she wanted to see it again, but she did. Maybe just to prove to Carlos she wasn't lying, although the fact that she was still alive already proved that. Really, it may have just been because she had trouble believing what happened herself.

They didn't find the dog's body, or any sign of the people who attacked them, but eventually they did find a river. It was too big to simply wade across, so the group kept moving northeast, following the river deeper into the forest as the sun began to set.

"That's it," panted Christa. "I need to stop."

"Again?" asked an irritated Carlos.

"Yes, again," hissed Christa as she sat down.

"Dad, she's pregnant," reminded a concerned Sarah. "This is probably super hard for her."

"Of course," said Carlos with a forced sense of sympathy. "How could I forget?"

"We might as well call it a day." Pete limped over to a tree. "We're not going to make much more ground before sunset at this rate, and we're all hungry and could use the rest. We already found the river, so if we get an early start tomorrow we can follow it to this bridge, see if we can get our bearings from there."

"That's assuming it exists, or we haven't already gone past it," commented Nick.

Clementine sat down, very tired herself. She hadn't spent this much time walking since before coming to the cabin. It was an odd sensation, being on the move again. She had spent so long in the same place she almost forgot what it was like. The uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring, the tedious marching occasionally broken by bursts of fear when danger felt close. It all was just making her nostalgic for her quiet little room at the cabin.

"Nick, get a fire going," ordered Pete as he unpacked the fish they had wrapped up earlier. "Get started on dinner, and be quick because the fire needs to be out by dark. I don't want to give them any clues to where we are." Pete took a knife and gutted one of the fish. "I'm gonna set our traps, so we'll hopefully have something to eat for tomorrow." Pete scooped up the fish guts and started feeding them into one of the traps he was carrying.

"You sure you don't want me to do that?" Nick couldn't help but stare at Pete's bloody bandage.

"It's just a scraped knee, I ain't crippled," stated an angry Pete when he saw what Nick was looking at. "Why don't you just do what you're told and let me work."

"I just figured you could use a break," reasoned Nick.

"We're already on a break," reminded an irate Pete as he collected his traps. "So why don't you get a damn fire going already so we got something to eat before it gets dark?"

"Fine, go fuck up your other leg, see if I care." Clementine watched as Pete stormed off towards the riverbank. Nick stared angrily at Pete as he left before collecting wood and kindling. Sarah was talking with her father, leaving Clementine with Christa, who was lying on her back.

"Are you okay?" Clementine moved closer to Christa. She was sweating and still breathing heavily.

"I'm okay Clem," mumbled Christa in a wounded voice. "I just really thought I was up for this. Kept telling myself I wasn't 'too pregnant' for this kind of thing. I guess I was wrong."