𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

50 | FOLLOW THE TRACKS

The shaky grip loosened around the pistol, but the barrel didn't stop touching her temple.

Her head slowly turned, her long matted fringe falling over her face as she listened for the noise. She thought she was imagining it at first, as if the sane side of her mind had conjured it up as a trick to stop her from pulling the trigger. She expected the crying to fade out and stop like all hallucinations eventually do. But it never did.

Tori's hand was still numb, shaking as she tucked her gun into her holster and got to her feet. The ankle that rolled as she ran through the woods sent a sharp pain up her right leg, causing her to limp across the store in search of the noise. Her hearing was a little muffled, but the crying got clearer and louder as she made her way over to the cash counter in the far corner by a window, which was covered in torn newspaper.

Rounding the dusty desk, her eyes bulged from her head at the sight that shocked her. A baby sat on a pile of blankets, a teddy bear tightly hugged to her chest as she screamed and whimpered.

Tears poured over her bright red cheeks, creating a streak through a patch of dirt on the left side of her face. Her clothes were mucky too. The pink polka dot top matched the pants, the pyjamas looking like they'd been worn for days without a wash. The girl's hair was brown, little curls just about covering her ears. But looked rather untamed, like it would be longer if it was combed through just once.

The girl looked up at Tori, her big sorrowful brown eyes shining with the tears that fell faster than they formed. Her bottom lip was pouted outwards as her small arms clung to the teddy bear on her lap.

"Are you all alone?" Tori asked, knowing the girl couldn't answer. At most, this baby was a year old.

She took a step closer to the girl, who responded by hugging her bear tighter, and crying louder.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Tori whispered, crouching in front of the girl. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not gonna hurt you. Here." She held her empty hand out, not wanting to touch the little girl if she was going to be that afraid.

The girl's cries turned to whimpers as she looked at Tori's hand, unsure of what to do. Her little left hand let go of the teddy bear and reached out, lightly touching Tori's palm with her fingertips, tracing the lines like she was following a pathway.

The brunette gave the little girl a small smile, and to her surprise, the girl copied. Tears still covered her face, but her eyes weren't as glossy as before.

Tori moved closer, intending to lift the poor girl off the blanket when a door behind her swung open with force, and a blonde woman came barging in with a bag on her back, and a pistol in her hand.

"Hands up, lady," her low Georgian accent slightly slurred.

Tori spun around and stood up, holding her hands out to show she was unarmed. "Easy. I'm not a threat."

"Oh, you ain't?" the gunwoman scoffed. "That's what everybody says, ain't it?"

"I know," Tori nodded, breathing as calmly as she could. "Trust me, I do. But I'm not everybody. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Tori felt two little arms wrapping around her leg, glancing down to see the little girl had crawled over to her, like she was hiding behind her. Soft whimpers left the girl's lips, and Tori looked up at the blonde woman, who barely reacted.

It was then she realised that the grip on the gun was loose, too loose if she was planning on making a clean shot. But also, her eyes were slightly hooded, like she was half asleep... or drunk.

"You her mother?" Tori asked with a tilted head.

"Yes," the blonde replied, lowering the gun, but keeping it in her hand. "What's it to you?"