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⠀The triumphant stride emulated by Rick and T-Dog was stained when my footsteps followed their own ― whilst they carried their heads high, mine was low as I pursued their tarnished prints that trailed along the stark dissimilarityof concrete. I heard the tired breaths escape their lungs, very well so as the ample amount of dried goods encompassed in their arms was enough to make any of our mouths water.
⠀I had stayed back whilst Rick and the two other men in my company negotitated a deal where it seemed we had won favour. Half their food for service to help clear out a place to live. Despite their possible cruel intentions with us, it seemed the prisoners just wanted somewhere to be. After the failed attempts of triumph over the one we had slept in last night, the strangers settled for just as good.
⠀Despite my endeavors to establish that I didn't want them here, based on the fact that I didn't know them, my mind was just jaded. And a more unrelenting me would have dispute the amount of food we were getting ― but at this point I was only grateful, and frankly distracted.
⠀With T-Dog in our lead, the only thing I carried was my lance. Whilst they had piled boxes and bags into their eager, much stronger arms, taking all the weight towards our group. My own fell limply at my side.
⠀"Food's here!" T-Dog was louder than we had all been in weeks, and the noise rung clearly in my ears as the syllables bounced off the walls like a broken bullet. If I had even tried to emit such a happy sound I was sure my voice would have broken in two.
⠀As the man listed off what we had gathered to the young sir, whom had quickly scurried over to us in an excited race, I stuck attentively to Rick's side. Instead of leading after T-Dog he jutted his chin outwards to the doorway where Hershel still fell unconscious.
⠀I watched as the ones gathered round him turned their eyes wide at the state of me. Glenn, in particular, who had been standing at the doorway reached out towards my shoulder.
⠀"What happened?" His voice went high, and concerned. But before he could try and look over me for bites, I pushed his grapple away from my skin. "Hey, are you okay?"
⠀"Yeah," I didn't even sound convincing to myself. "A walker... but, I'm fine." Once I noticed that all eyes were on me, except for the more introverted Harvey Taylor, my own attention got caught on the slowly discolouring sheets embellished on the recently amputated Hershel. I pointed with my head towards the older farm-hand, wrapping my arms around myself. "What about him?"
⠀Once I had mentioned him, Harvey then looked over to me. "It's―" he caught sight of the blood. "What happened to you?"
⠀A small exhale liberated itself past my lips. "A walker. I'm fine. It's not about me."
