"whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."
➳ Please note I do not at all take credit away from Syfy for the creation of this series, I only take credit for the main character and her involvement with the plot :)
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(this song reminds me of she by dodie:) )
➳The team journeyed East, heading into South Dakota after their morgue escapade. And, frankly, the boy couldn't be happier to finally be in the wilderness again.
So many years of solitude prior to the apocalypse had left him rather reclusive, and disgusted by urban areas - especially towns. God, he hated them. It seemed that whenever they were in a town, something went wrong.
Not that everything else the past few months hadn't gone wrong - it was just towns he particularly hated. His mother had cultivated a love of nature in him, and his father taught him to use it to survive.
"Moss grows only on the north side of trees," he pointed out to (y/n) as the group took some time to rest and stretch their legs after hours spent in the car they'd found.
"Interesting," she mused, extending a hand to stroke it gently. "aw, it's so soft! C'mon, feel it!"
"I know what moss feels like," he chuckled. The girl grabbed his hand and placed it over the delicate green flora, and made him pet it.
"Mmm," she sighed happily "it's like therapy." He cast an uneasy glance at the girl, sensing that there was more to the comment than she intended.
"Hey, lovebirds!" Murphy yelled at them, annoyed for whatever reason - Tommy couldn't care less. "pack it up! We're headin' out." (y/n) rolled her eyes and scoffed.
"Yes, boss," she said sarcastically, saluting Murphy who only sneered back. Typical of the two, indeed. They hustled over, boots scuffing along the gravel as their friends kept an eye on them. The girl stopped in her tracks, and the boy turned to stare at her to determine what might be wrong.
"Duck," she breathed, pulling a knife from somewhere - she was like a magician, making them appear out of seemingly thin air - and without much hesitation, he did as he was told.
Immediately after he was safe, (y/n) threw her blade in typical fashion, perfect form as always. Ten Thousand turned around, drawing his own knife, to assess the situation. A zombie, freshly turned, with a new adornment in its forehead.
(y/n) blew a strand of hair out of her face. "where did that guy come from?" she asked the sharpshooter, who shrugged.
"Must have been a camp near here."
A few of the others jogged over, having noticed the slaying.
"Everyone okay?" Warren asked, grabbing 10k's shoulders and making sure he was fine. Like a fussy child, he shrugged away.
"Very much alive," he informed her, casting an apologetic smile. As much as he adored Warren, she was not his mother.
"Good. We should go check it out," she jutted her chin the direction of where the Z came from. "see if they've got any supplies in that camp."
