salvation → g. rhee

bad introductions

Glenn approached the girl while she sat in the shade, reading a book from Dale's collection.

"Hey," he started, pausing as she startled, before continuing. "Whatcha reading?"

"I dunno, some western cowboy thing. I lost interest like twenty minutes ago, I've just been turning the pages every once in a while to be polite," she admitted in a lowered voice, her face shining with her small smile.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed between them. Aubrey's expression shifted to one of mild concern. "Glenn?"

"Aubrey?"

"You look like something's bothering you."

"Nah, everything's fine, I've just been wondering about your connection with the Grimes'? You guys seem really close," Glenn questioned carefully, sitting in the shade next to her.

"Oh! Wow, um, we go way back-"
she started to say, when children's screams cut her off. Exchanging wide eyed looks, they scrambled to their feet.

With one hand on the knife at her hip, she and Glenn joined the throng of adults calling for their kids and running to assess the danger. Lori's panicked voice shouting for Carl stood out to Aubrey the most.

Passing a few shrubs, they saw the kids running towards them. Carl ran into her legs and grabbed onto her waist.

"What happened?" she asked, kneeling down to look him in the eyes.

He said nothing, turning to gesture behind him. She followed his gaze and saw what had scared them: a dead deer lay on the ground in a small clearing, two yellow-fletched arrows sticking out of its tail end and a walker feasting on its esophagus.

They watched as Glenn, Morales, Rick, and Shane began to bash it with shovels, bats, and other various long sticks, eventually separating its head from its body.

"Guys!" Aubrey called out when she heard twigs snapping from the woods leading into the clearing.

They all tensed, holding their weapons in defensive stances, ready to put down another walker. Aubrey let out the breath she'd been holding and re-sheathed her knife when a man in a sweatstained muscle shirt with a rope of dead squirrels across his chest like a sash appeared from around a rock outcrop, holding a crossbow aloft.

"Oh, jesus," Shane muttered, lowering his shotgun. Everyone relaxed.

"Son of a bitch. That's my deer! Look at it, all gnawed on by this... Filthy, disease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard!" the man grumbled, punctuating every insult with a kick to the body.

"Calm down, son, that's not helping," Dale said calmly.

The man walked over to him, angry.
"What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to "On Golden Pond"?" he snapped, before emitting a disappointed sigh. "I've been tracking this deer for miles."

He bent down and yanked his arrows out of the carcass. "Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison. What do you think? Think we can cut around this chewed up part here?"

"I would not risk that," Shane told him.

The man sighed again. "That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel - about a dozen. That'll have to do."

"Oh, god," Aubrey muttered as the head of the walker started snapping.
Amy shuddered, and Andrea lead her back to camp, both shaking their heads in disgust.

"Come on, people, what the hell?" the man scolded, shooting his last loaded arrow into its eye. It fell silent. "Gotta be the brain, don't y'all know nothing?" he grumbled, holding the head in place with his foot and pulling the arrow back out.