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WEEKS HAD PASSED. The group was on its last leg. The sun was sweltering. The air was wet. The walkers were hungry. The people were broken. After losing Tyreese, they had lost all hope. They had no destination... no goal. Only survival was on their mind. But even that was proving difficult as the Virginian weather made the very notion impossible. They found themselves in the middle of nowhere during one of the worst droughts the state had experienced.
Murphy was struggling, as was everyone in the group. After Tyreese, the return to the camp still gave her nightmares. Sasha's screams when she saw her brother's lifeless body still plagued her thoughts. As the days went by, the group lost more and more hope. They fell into the same routine: wake up, search for food and water, walk, and sleep. They weren't living, they were simply surviving. They were no different than the walkers they feared.
Murphy and Daryl had spoken very little to each other. Both of them had snapped. They kept to themselves, wandering off and returning with nothing to say. But Murphy saw in Daryl's eyes that he needed something... someone. The rest of the group stuck with their individuals, but he made no effort to. He chose to be alone, even though Murphy knew he didn't want that.
Daryl could tell that she was different, that Tyreese's death had changed her. He hadn't seen her smile since they returned from Noah's neighborhood. When they did, she climbed out of the van in blood soaked clothes, her face wet with the tears she couldn't help but shed. He stepped forward as she stumbled through the group that had crowded around the van. Tyreese's body lay in the back seat.
"Murph," he had whispered, so softly that she did not hear. She shuffled past him, wandering into the woods... away from the people she believed she failed.
Since that day, she had slowly gotten back into the group's interactions, speaking in short conversation and making sure that everyone was getting by. They weren't, no one was. But it was the thought that mattered. Today, they had split up to search for water. They were dreadfully close to being out, and the panic was setting in. Were they going to die? One of the vans was still operational, but they still had tens of miles before they reached the next city. So when everyone returned, none of them with water, each person's hope began to crumble a little more.
Soon enough, the van had run out of sustenance as well. The tank was empty, and they had no choice but to continue on foot. Murphy carried her pack on her shoulders, her knife and gun tucked into their holsters around her waist. She was in jeans and a light tank top, her flannel wrapped around her middle. Thankfully, Maggie had a few spare items of clothing for Murphy. She didn't know what she would do if she had to wear the shirts stained with Tyreese's blood.
