In The Bird Song | TWD

chapter 54 - Take it all for you

Harlow pov -

Its colder than when I was out last.

A gentle fall breeze has blown away the muggy summer heat. Replacing it with crisp, overly ripened air, that swells with the fruitful scent of decay. I sit on the porch steps, my knees drawn close to my chest, watching Izzy throw a stick for posy. She waits for a moment, before running after the stick herself, a race with a dog she has no hope of beating. But still, she has not yet given up, and that gives me hope and dread for her in tandem.

Its only by Michonne's insistence that we came to be in the garden at all. Michonne practically having to push me out the door, but Izzy was excited, so I went. Trying not to think of it as yard time in juvenile detention. I'm not a prisoner here, or so I tell myself.

Michonne hums tonelessly behind me through the open kitchen door as she does the dishes. She is Never too far away from me these days, like she is wating for me to snap. I try not to think of that either.

The others will arrive for dinner soon, judging by the steadily dipping horizon and gold gilded garden. A shiver runs through me as a large gust of wind teases the shell-shocked grass, the happy child's laughter that was present only moments before fades abruptly to nothing, falling with the sun.

I find her standing frozen to the spot, watching in awe as a crusted brown leave blows towards her, cascading down to her feet as the wind dies. She looks at it for a moment, picks it up, and turns it over in her hand. Her fingers toy with the stem, her other hand reaching up to cradle the head of the leaf. Slowly, to the point of caution, she curls her fist closed, crunching the brown edges in her palm.

Once crushed, she holds her fist tightly shut, before she gently, lovingly, allows for the slow uncurl of her fingers. A flurry of ashen rain meanders from her hand, twisting and wafting through the air like whispers of morning snow.

It's a strange thing, the crushing of the leaf, feeling akin to a sacred rite practiced and honed over centuries to be performed before the gods themselves. There is a moment where it seems the whole world stops to watch the scene, but then its over, and the world shifts its gaze, allowing time to bury the moment as time buries all things.

And as if nothing has occurred, Izzy lifts her head and smiles, skipping merely over to where I sit.

"It's my birthday," she tells me, so sure of herself in her verdict.

"Oh, how do you know?" I ask, trying not to sound sceptical. Either way we will celebrate, if she wants today to be her birthday then her birthday today will be.

"Brown leaf's; mummy says I get older every year the leaves fall. She given me one when we were still in bad place, 'n I turned six!" She tells me happily, and it's one of the few times I have seen her talk about her mum without calming up and going quiet.

"Well happy birthday! I should have known; I was just thinking you looked taller this morning!" I say with enthusiasm that I don't quite feel. It isn't that I am sad she is getting older, It's just...okay maybe I am a little sad. But that's only natural, and it's worth it to see my girl so happy.

"Really?" she giggles, and I nod approvingly pretending to examen her. "definitely" I confirm, ruffling her hair.

We sit in happy silence for a while, Izzy leaning over so she can rest against my side and watch posy chase a wasp around the yard. Meanwhile I scramble to try think of an adequate way to celebrate the young girls birthday.

She has no friends to invite over, no banners or ballons, no mother to film her blowing out her birthday candles. All she has is me, me and posy, but I still want her to feel special. She deserves one day of happiness.