my tears ricochet

Chapter Three

Ivy had watched the campsite from the window with a wariness to match Maggie, who sat perched on the porch with a solid aluminum baseball bat in her grip. Daryl had left Lori to keep an eye on her while he hunted the woods for Sophia and she hadn't taken the opportunity to flee, despite her talk about taking off once they had given her some food. 

Hot water and a home cooked meal was a persuasive combination for any kid. 

It also helped that the doorway to Hershel's home was firmly kept shut to majority of the group which helped with her restless unease. Ivy didn't care much for Shane, and something about Dale made her flinch. He wasn't sure how she would react with the others like Rick or Glenn because she would shy away at any encounter, ducking into the next room out of sight. 

Lori, though, had some kind of magic. He had watched her take one look at Ivy's knotted hair and offer her a real kind of smile, telling her she could trim it for her if she would like. She managed to phrase it right to keep Ivy from turning her down, because if anyone tried telling her what she needed, she'd get her back up and start spitting out some sharp tongued refusal. 

She had offered a hair cut and Ivy had agreed to it, sitting patiently enough for the woman to finger comb the knots out and take a bit of the length of. Ivy had even been willing to listen to Lori talk, rambling about the hair salon she used to work at as a receptionist part-time while Carl was in school. She asked her questions at the right time, in a shocking display of active listening. 

Daryl wasn't sure how Merle would feel about the girl. He was sure his brother would appreciate the tough sort of quality that had her fending for herself in the woods and taking a swipe at him with a pink switchblade, but Merle would have a grocery list of things to say to Daryl about him softening up. 

He had been the one to trace Ivy's feet on paper and had managed to hunt down a good quality pair of boots from a local hunting shop. Daryl had even found a few good pairs of thick socks, and a sturdy bag to pack supplies in. The farm was a pipe dream from his childhood, but he knew it couldn't last in this world. Weeks ago he had been crouched off to the side of the road, watching Atlanta turn to flame in the middle of the night while they all stood helpless. 

A farm, with flimsy fencing and roughly a thousand blindspots could never withstand some of the herds passing through, like the one from the highway. Eventually they would have to settle the search for Sophia and plan a new direction. No one could last long in this world if they weren't constantly moving. 

So Daryl had given her the bag with a few things already squirrelled away and had noticed it hidden halfway behind the couch full of clothes and odd supplies. Ivy carried so few things but he knew she had a habit of pocketing food from dinner in a napkin, something he had done plenty growing up when they had it on the table. 

He wasn't sure if it was just growing up with food insecurities or whether her family history ran darker. All anyone knew was that she had a dead set of parents and a refusal to admit the exact story to anyone. 

He watched her carefully, slipping out of the house and around the camp, towards the barn out back. Ivy seemed to know he was following her, turning around some and making eye contact with him. 

"Where the hell are you going?" He asked her, catching up to her pace. "Hershel know you're out here?"

Daryl was positive she was wearing Jimmy's shoes. They were a bit larger and slightly more masculine than the pink and white tennis shoes lined neatly at the door next to Hershel's barn boots. They probably fit her feet easier with the bandages and while he had given her the new boots, he had warned her not to try them on until she was better.