Daisy | The Walking Dead

13. wildfire Ⅲ

~Day sixty-two~

The quarry that was once alive with laughter and chatter was now a desolate place, filled with silent grief and whispered quarrels.

The crackling of the burning pyres added a somber soundtrack to the scene, casting flickering shadows that danced over the faces of the mourning survivors. The smoke from the fires rose in a thick plume, blackening the sky and obscuring the sun.

The smell of charred flesh was nauseating, but no one complained. They knew that it was necessary to dispose of the bodies before they attracted the attention of any more walkers.

Sophia and Daisy, inseparable since breakfast, clung to each other with a newfound strength in the face of such pain.

In the wake of a tragedy that had shattered their group, they found refuge in each other's company.

Carl trailed behind them, keeping a respectful distance. He could sense the weight of their sorrow, the heaviness of their hearts and minds.

He knew they needed each other, and he was content to give them space to mourn in their own way.

It was as if they were in a world of their own, a world that no one else could penetrate. Sophia was no longer at Carol's side, and Daisy had distanced herself from T-Dog and Glenn.

They existed in a bubble, their own little universe, where the pain of the outside world could not reach them. Their silence was harrowing, a mournful melody that hung in the air.

Even those with only half a brain could tell that they were both deeply affected by what had happened.

The camp was awash with sadness, but Sophia and Daisy's grief seemed to permeate every nook and cranny. Their sorrowful aura infected even the most stoic of survivors, leaving a sense of melancholy in its wake.

Carl was haunted by the sight of his dear friends, now mere phantoms of their former selves.

Lori drifted through the camp. Her gentle touch was a salve for the weary, a caress that eased the ache of their battered souls as she offered comfort where she could.

She spoke softly to the children, offering them words of hope and encouragement. And when she came to Andrea and Carol, she held them close, offering her own grief as a shared burden.

Sophia and Daisy laid on the sun-kissed ground, a patchwork of yellow grass and dry earth beneath them - their hands intertwined. The sky above was a canvas of blue and white, the clouds drifting like ghosts through the endless expanse.

Sophia pointed out the shapes, a dog, a bird, a face, but Daisy remained silent, and still, her eyes unfocused.

Carl sat behind them, his legs folded and his eyes entranced by the kaleidoscope of hues and words that danced on the pages of his comic book.

He cast a furtive glance at Andrea, who cradled Amy in her arms, swaying gently to the rhythm of her sobs. He couldn't help but wonder when she would turn.

Sophia and Daisy struggled to reconcile the events of the night before. The shadows of the past loomed over them, casting a pall on their spirits.

They sought to turn away from the grim fate that awaited Amy, not wishing to confront the suffering that had gripped their group.

"I wish we could just forget," Sophia spoke softly, as if her words alone could banish the pain they felt.

Carl nodded solemnly, understanding the urge to flee from the terrors that encircled them. But he knew that they couldn't simply wish it all away.