🍊tangerine oranges🍊|THE WALKING DEAD|

¤ [06] ¤《Maud, Interupted》

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Michonne's makeshift bag was held high on her shoulder, weighed down with a can of beans and some bandages.

She hadn't found much on her journey, but that wasn't the run's only purpose.

She had lost everything her safety in the prison and her family, but she had found once again something more.

Something to keep going.

Rick.

Michonne stopped to look around and see if any other house looked relatively untouched so that she could scavenge them empty.

None it seemed held anything of value.

Just pictures and old clothes that she gladly swapped out so that her skin could feel fresh against machine washed clothes.

She didn't know what it was about hand washing clothes, maybe it was lakes they hand washed in or her hands were too soft but she could never get them as clean a good machine scrub.

Turning her back to a dresser mirror, Michonne looked back at herself in the mirror.

The rhinestones on the back of her trousers shined back at her.

She still got it, alright.

Turning around, Michonne took a backpack that again, like her trousers, looked like it was stolen from the early two thousands covered in a bright leather pink material that was frayed and ditched her homeless makeshift carrier bag.

Michonne turned to leave the house doors open and shelves scattered around, but before she did, she scouted outside.

Noticing a man off from the distance.

Staggering.

So a walker, to be expected, but that also meant there were more near by following the noise it left behind as it moved, pushing over trash bin on the sidewalk.

Normally, she would move quickly and leave it, but the days leading up to now had been hard, and Michonne's skin buzzed with tension.

She was a bubbling pot of water ready to spill over. She needed an out, and this walker would have to be it.

Michonne took her katana from her back and ran towards the walker, her hands in the air.

Only to be pushed away, her katana falling to the floor.

Michonne readied herself arms raised.

"shhhhh Michonne"

Rick.

Michonne stilled as Rick dragged her away from the street, picking her her weapon as they went, Rick staggering.

"You shouldn't be walking -"

Rick's hand to her mouth cut off Michonne's words, his body pressed to hers against the side of some random house he had dragged them to.

"Men, a group"

Michonne paused, then let herself be hauled away with little complaints. After all, there wasn't much need for Rick to go on explaining.

The plural 'men' was the only word she needed to hear.

It meant trouble, a hassle, and at worst, having to crawl your way out of a situation using your nails, on your hands and knees praying to whatever God was listening to, that you'd get out

Rick had gotten out this time, but it was never good to act full of oneself thanking that one could take on anything.

Cause one couldn't. That was the only thing this world guaranteed.