⤐ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝.
"I need you to listen to me. When we're out there together, if I say run, run. If I tell you to leave me, then damn it, you le...
'cast me out beyond the shore, so that i may sink beneath the waves.' -taylor danielle
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⤐
"Ace?"
Suddenly, the world snapped back into focus. The rushing onslaught of noise tore through Zeppelin's ears the way a river tore through a canyon. Birds were singing above her, and she looked up, glaring at the gathering storm clouds. That's when she noticed the trees.
When had they gotten here? The last thing she recalled was crying outside of Hilltop, and the feeling of Daryl's chest pressed against her shivering back, and—Daryl.
She found his face, noting the concern there before he quickly hid it away, and her mouth opened and closed as if she were supposed to be answering some question, but she couldn't remember what it was.
"Are you okay?" There, a question. She wiped the back of her hand over her forehead and absentmindedly fiddled with the holster around her hips.
"I'm good, sorry." He didn't believe her, but Daryl was a generous man and always gave her the space to lie when she needed it. "You need any help with that?"
That's right, they had moved. After Zepp's breath steadied and her despair hardened into numbness, Daryl had gone back to retrieve his bike. And she had gotten on, her arms wrapped around his waist as they had always done, but she didn't feel warm as she once did. They had only gone a few miles before he decided to stop here to tune some hose near the engine that she had no clue what it was for. Everything became sort of blurred after that.
Daryl shook his head, returning to his task but angling himself a little closer to her. "Nah, I got it. Almost done." Even though he couldn't see her, she nodded anyway and adjusted the pack on her shoulders as her stomach snarled. When was the last time they had eaten?
She leaned against a youngling sap, her arms crossed as she watched a point in the distance. The trees seemed to wave at her, almost beckoning. She shouldn't have paused, should've found something to occupy her hands and mind with before she settled against this tree.
The way Rick had looked at her... her stomach flipped over and over as she remembered his face, as she tried and failed to push it out. As if he was afraid of her. As if he hadn't relied on her all these months, as if everything he admired in her before was now something to be wary of. He crafted her into his soldier, and she had failed him.
The noise was softening again, a steady thrumming in her ears blocking everything out as it did that day the walker pulled her underwater. That's what it felt like—drowning.
