Vanessa Taylor, a sassy blue haired, tattooed cosmetologist with a mouth of a sailor was born and raised in Ohio. One summer while she was visiting her sick father, her connecting flight ends in the city getting shut down, leaving her stranded in th...
The moon now high in the darkened sky, I take up the rear with my swords tight within my grasp while Daryl leads our small group. The frigid wind sends a chill through my soul. I drag my coat closed, hating that even through the hood and mask, I sense the winter creeping up on us in the upcoming weeks. The deeper we get into the forest, the bigger the pit in my stomach grows. Call me paranoid, but I can't seem to shake the feeling of dread slithering across my flesh. The air is incredibly still; its almost like a calm before the storm.
"I don't know if there's a happy ending here." Carol finally breaks the silence descending on us.
"The trail," Daryl gestures towards the ground, "goes off in three different ways. Don't make sense." The sounds of the twigs snapping followed with the foreboding groans of the dead fill the air. I spin on my heels, raising my blades. Though, ice shocks my veins when the walkers stumble into view. "Come on, head back. Let's go!"
Cue the downpour of rain. Hopefully the storm doesn't follow, I quietly muse.
"Whoa, they're from Hilltop." Yumiko points to the dead, reaching the same conclusion I have.
Michonne demands, "watch their hands. They could be skins." You don't have to tell me twice. Paranoid is quickly becoming my middle name.
I raise my swords, cutting down the dead closest to me. Swing. Slice. Swing. Slice. I allow the fear to take a backseat while Kelly's training begins to take over. I run head first into a group of three. I raise my leg, forcing the middle one to stumble back while I silence the two around him. I drag my bloodied swords back, cutting the head of the last one.
"Back to the road. Come on!" Daryl's tone faint over the moans of the dead. I keep my back turned on the group, hoping they can find and clear a path out of this chaos.
I let out a stream of creative curses, realizing each direction out of here has been blocked by the walkers. This wasn't an accident. Someone very alive had to set this up, knowing we were coming. I raise my swords for the second time as we close rank, fighting back, turning the tide on the corpses as they begin to fall. Soon, the air falls quiet after my blades silence the last one.
Beside me, Daryl glances in my direction. We share an uneasy look, an unspoken conversation passing between us. More sounds of twigs snapping drags my awareness as the skin walkers stalk out of the trees, and into our line of sight.
Fuck.
There's the fucking storm.
"It's a fucking trap," I snarl, but Daryl grabs my arm, rooting me in place before I could dart in, massacring each and every feral fucking animal surrounding us. The skin jobs train their various weapons on us.
"Drop them. I won't ask twice." The Goliath looking asshole I saw a few days ago, stalks out of the trees. He stops in front of me, glaring down at me with malice and hate. I raise my chin, narrowing my eyes as I drop my blades at his feet. Daryl shoves me behind him, stepping protectively between myself and the giant. I realize it doesn't pass his notice. "You just had to give me the girl. No one else had to die. Now that deal is done."
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