debute of the dead (prologue) || Darling

[carter paisley]

Whiteknuckled, Carter eased a small table out of the way, going slowly and making as little noise as possible. When it was clear of the doorway, she shuffled over to the next peice of furniture in the baracade, a bookcase. Her hands shook until she took a firm grip on the corner, pulling it a few inches before moving to the other side so she could inch the other end along. She had to alternate sides in this manner until it was finally out of the way. The door itself was still bolted and she couldn't bring herself to unlock it just yet.

The cellar was chilly and dark, cobwebs hinting that it hadn't been used for much besides storing old furniture and overwhelmingly salty canned goods. Despite her hunger, Carter hadn't been able to eat too much after she ran out of water. That was the only reason she was clearing the blockade, she and her horse both needed water. The basement wasn't much, but so far it had been safe.

She looked down at her watch; less than 60 hours had passed since her father turned and bit her mother. By now, her mother would be one of them. Since fleeing from her home, she had discovered that the entire town (and she assumed far beyond) had gone to shit. As of yet, she didn't have a plan. All she had done so far was run and ride and hide within the a 5 mile radius of where she had started. This cellar was the first place she had looted and even now she felt guilty for taking a few jars of green beans with her.

Applejacks nickered, not sure why she hadn't done something about his thrist yet. "Ok, boy," she whispered, steeling herself and unbolting the doors. She climbed the concrete stairs, tentatively listening for any sounds outside before removing the board that secured the exterior cellar doors. Barely breathing, she peeked over the top and scanned the area, emerging cautiously like Bambi his first time to the meadow.

After a thorough look around, she determined there were no biters in the immediate proximity and descended the stairs again to fetch Jacks. At first, he hesitated to follow her and she couldn't blame him. Stairs were outrageously unnatural for horses, but she managed to convince him to follow her. Although he had a difficult time making it up the stairs, going down had been much, much worse. Once they were both out in the open, she swung into the saddle and started riding in the direction of the stream.

[Deleted]

((OOC: I'm so SO sorry Gail, I wrote you an essay ^^' They wont all be long, I just... I'm REALLY rusty at roleplaying and I needed to limber up and flex my muscles. I tried to keep it interesting for you, I hope it's more enjoyable than hard work! ^^' Sorry and thank you!))



To an outside viewer, the two figures collecting dew in the long grass must have looked like a witch doctor and their possessed patient locked in some kind of black ritual. She was on the floor and he hunkered down next to her, skin painted near tribal with red streaks and mud, murmuring what, to the untrained ear, could foreign tongues under his breath.
Really he spoke in a language that could only be described as pikey, Irish English on steroids, something only another pikey could decode.

Her shirt splayed out from her middle in shreds, like the skin of a carcass undergoing dissection, the flesh above her collar bone welling in blood, so teeth-torn it resembled only so much raw meat, tangled and matted like plastic bags caught in a flooded storm drain with a peek of gristle or bone—or something disgustingly white winking up at the sky for the very first time. Her voice was breaking up like a bad radio transmition, volume meandering, peaking at high, keening whimpers about burning skin and dropping to breathy guttural groans.
Possessed…
Fucking good word for it!
She was half crazed for pain, tearing her fingers through her hair, kicking the balls of her feet into the earth, arching her back then rolling back over into a foetal ball, clutching her knees desperately into her chest like the corpse of a lover. Tears glistened on her cheeks and her feverish mutterings rattled up her throat as wind through broken drain pipes, barking loud noises, dulling into strange high pitched hisses.

Darling raised his own to be heard above his sister, “Stop fightin’! Shit, girl!” but even if the earth went still and she shut the fuck up he wasn’t certain she’d hear him... “Jes’ trust me a minute! I’ll sort this out!”

Bodies of… THEM, those hungry, hungry SHITheads sprawled across the allotment around them serving as a maddening reminder of the situation, a kind of visual warning of what would happen if Nancy didn’t shut the hell up. Somewhere nearby he could hear the trickle of a stream—if he could just get them both there…

Then what? Than what Darling? Something snide and pissed off remarked dryly from the back of his head, You’ll build a raft? Tie coke cans together with your hair? Sail us both away to a magic, unicorn, surgeon in the land of milk and honey?

Fuck off. If zombies existed then why the hell not!

Already the skin on the back of his neck felt tight, dry blood fell away in flakes every time he turned his head to scan the area over his shoulder. Every hair on his arms had sprung up, looking for the escape they needed possibly, adrenaline roared through his veins like gasoline and dulled the throbbing ache in his side (probably already blooming every colour under the rainbow, if you told him there were a few cracked ribs he’d have bought it, his chest was tight enough for it. Felt like he’d been lovingly secured in a woodwork clamp.) and the colour was draining from the edges of his vision.

“I’ll sort it!” he snapped again, panic riding his tone, “Just—I need you to be quie--”

A gurgled howl cut him off and his sisters eyes rolled back in her skull, white knuckled hands tearing up chunks of grass from the roots, her body bucked again.

Darling, sweetie, you’ve seen how this works! What makes you so special that you THINK you can save her?

Quiet you!

Scowling, he hushed Nancy for the umpteenth time in five minutes, stroking his fingers hurriedly through her hair before his hand found a piece of shirt. Securing it he tore what remaining few threads still hung reluctantly on and once he had his strip of makeshift bandage he repositioned to look her dead in the eye and then slowly and carefully spoke, hands behind her shoulder blades, ready to levee her upright, “Nancy, I’m gonna ask ya t’do somethin’ real difficult for me, ‘kay? I’m gonna needjya sittin’ up, girl,”

“Nononononononoooo—“ she shook her head hopelessly, tears welling up in her eyes, same swallowing dark eyes as him, for a moment a terrible sensation that he was watching himself… dying knocked him breathless. Same hair, same face, same scrawny-ass figure.
He dropped her. Recoiling in horror. The little bastard voice in his head seized the opportunity.

Wounds deep. Looootta blood… you think those bandages are going to be more than decoration?

The bleeding… he needed to stop the bleeding…

Bit late in the day for that, ain’t it?

A rattle of noise from a nearby building echoed out across the allotment.

We’ve got company…

“Marlowe!” she sobbed, a fresh wave of panic spurring on a fresh wave of tears.

“I got you, girl, I got you…”
He was leaned right over her now, knees planted in the earth, one hand cupping her cheek (she was squeezing on his wrist now, like somehow clinging on would keep her from being swept away by the tide of agony) the other bearing his weight on the ground at the other side of her shoulders. Could feel her pulse battering against the skin of her neck like the wings of a frightened bird.

“Idon’twanna!” she sobbed, bleary eyes suddenly pleading with his, “Ican’tdothisIdon’tIcan’t!”

Leave her. She’ll slow them down. No point both of us ending up dog food now, is there?

Darling hushed her softly, curling around her, cupping her face, thumbs stroking away the tears, forehead pressed against hers like a lover. The girl broke into noisy sobs that racked her small frame, he could feel them echo through his own, but this wasn’t a bad thing. This was a good reaction. A human reaction.

He couldn’t leave her…

One free hand quietly snaked to the gun wedged in the hem of his jeans, a five finger discount Glock from a cop. A live one. Well, at least he’d been alive when Darling had swiped the weapon… who knew now…

… Nancy was fighting enough to promise a swift recovery with the right medical attention…

But where, oh where, is your medical degree?

He couldn’t leave her to be eaten alive. Other bastards sure, but not his sister…

Shoot and you’ll bring every one of those shuffling fuckers within a five mile radius hammering down on your arse…You. Tit.

Darlings fingers hesitated around the butt of the weapon… swallowing dryly he took something else out of his pocket instead, a small joint he’d pre-rolled for the before the plane ride home… three weeks ago.

“Here,” he popped the smoke between her lips for her, “medicine,”

For a moment the two shared warmth and a quiet, breathy laugh, neither willing to admit to the situation. Both knew the lethality of it.
Darling from experience, but Nancy felt it in her flesh, her bones as the after tremors of trauma slowly departed in waves, but left their watermark on her psyche. That looming shadow of death was the elephant in the room neither really wanted to talk about… but they’d cross that bridge if they ever got there.

He rummaged through his pockets and gave her the last light he ever would, “Careful, that’s strong shit,” he warned with a grin that never reached his eyes. Darling knew what had to be done… watching her drag on it like lungs were only distant daydream. Slowly, he got to his feet, then, when she started hiccupping in panic, softly lied to her, “I’ll be back in a few secs, aiet? I need t’find somethin’ t’carry you in, jes stay put! I won’t be far!”


___________ ____________ ____________


“She’ll slow them down. She’ll slow them down. She’ll slow them,” Darlings hands shook as he washed the blood from his arms.
Sleeves and all.
The stream coursed around him, tiny currents grabbing fabric and pulling at it. Chill rose up through his bones like damp in a basement, but he HAD to get it out. All the blood. All the dirt. Every last grass stain, it all had to go. Water therapy, a ritual as old as time still did the trick and he’d abandoned logic and dove waist in with all his clothes still faithfully on his back.

“She’ll slow them down. She’ll slow them down,”

His teeth rattled in his skull, his eyes wide, hair wild. He kept up with the mantra until the tide of everything that had just gone down suddenly swept in and drowned him. Darling broke down mid-sentence. Words woudn’t come out, just pitiful, dry sobs. His knees buckled and he caved in on himself, dropping to the rubble beneath the stream, falling to his knees, too stupefied with emotion to realize where he was and ducking under the current, clutching his head and screaming bubbles…

There he remained for a few seconds, just clawing at his hair in maddening frustration, totally paralyzing grief…

And then, when the breath burned in his lungs, when every muscle in his body ached and starved, when survival instinct roared and sent great jolts of adrenaline up his spine, he finally emerged. Shakily on his feet, but slowly enough. His shoulders hung like a puppet with cut strings, arms limp and numb at his sides, diluted blood blotting fiercely on his wet top.

A distant noise… something rustling… something was in the woods, some distance away, but moving alright…

Just… he couldn’t do it… he needed just a moment. Just a few minutes that was all. Inhaling painfully through his battered ribs, he pinched the bridge of his nose, salvaging whatever small sanctuary there was to be had in the deep red space behind his eyelids.

No point in falling apart Darling. It’s not even an interesting way of getting us killed… that little voice purred-- too casually….
He shook his head and grit his teeth… this wasn’t right…

I mean, if we ARE going for the suicide angle at least make it a little bit spectacular. Leave the kids something to talk about!

No… he couldn’t… he knew what was coming and he wasn’t ready. Nancy deserved something more than this, at least a moments silence to show SOME remorse… he had, afterall, left her for dead…

We have to go. We take our gun, we find food and a place to sleep and then, when we’re rested we find a group…

“Feck off!” he spat, jolting back to life, throwing his hands through his hair and scanning the area quickly. No shufflers. That was good. A little surprising maybe, but sometimes you just got lucky… was it luck? He had JUST tried to drown himself… wait—did he? Did that really just happen…?

… Oooor a group could find us—heads up! We have company!
He heard the hoof falls of the horse before he saw them and it gave Darling just enough time to grab the weapon…

It was a girl. Well, a young woman on a horse.

For a moment it seemed unreal, impossible to him, like an alien landing or an angel from some dumb music video had walked into the wrong set… a set of horror and madness, but then from somewhere a little grain of himself still recognised reality when it bit him on the ass.

“Jesus, love!” and like someone had flicked a switch, he managed an awkward, yet charmingly boyish act, Irish accent far from helping, “Ya didn’ ‘alf scare t’shit outta me!” he exclaimed locking eyes with the girl that could have rode into any of the hundreds of miles of stream but bloody chosen his.
His crooked grin couldn’t have been more relieved. He held the weapon up loose in his hand to show he was friendly , “Feck… sorry about the blood, I’m cool, just… you wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had!”

[carter paisley]

Carter kept her eyes peeled, holding the reins loosely and letting the horse do all of the navigating. He seemed to understand that they were going to the stream, or maybe he was just thirsty and that's where he had decided to go by default since she wasn't really steering. By now, she'd gotten over the hope that this was all just a bad dream. She'd known from the beginning that it felt too harshly real to be a dream, but the shock of everything that happened was numbing enough to allow her to believe it could be.

The last two days had been full of blood and violence, and thus far there hadn't been much chance to grieve. Her survival instincts had kicked in, forcing her to flee, which was a blessed thing because she didn't have the mental ability to cope and at the same time do what needed to be done otherwise. The constant activity kept her despair at bay to a degree. That didn't mean it wasn't still there, weighing on her with every breath.

When they cleared the trees, it didn't take long for either horse or rider to spot the young man. Reactively, she tightened the reins, ready to wheel Jacks away. It took her a second to realize he wasn't reanimated, she was so used to them now that a living, breathing human took her by surprise. Since she hadn't been there five minutes earlier, she had no idea that he had changed so drastically, so quickly. "Sorry, didn't mean to..." she replied when he said something about scaring him. The distance still between them and his accent made her concentrate to understand.

The blood drew her gaze. He said he was cool and she didn't suspect any duplicity, but she asked anyway out of concern. "Are you ok?"

[Deleted]

"Yeah... yeah sure, I'm fine, Love," he replied, voice still a little shaky. There was no way in hell he'd ever manage to completely brush all the frayed nerves beneath the carpet, so to speak, but it Darling was cautiously hopeful that it would well work in his favour...

What, with all the 'lurkers'... those THINGS, whatever you wanted to call them, roaming the streets like drunken vengeful ghosts, it might have been more suspicious if he was peachy keen.

Wonder if that sister of yours has joined their ranks yet...? Well, wouldn't she make a wonderful one...

Brushing the little voice away mentally and clawing a free hand through his hair physically, Darling holstered the gun and crossed the space between them.

Mud sucked at his ankles as he waded up to the bank. Early evening chill was starting to swell in the air and all the wet clothes marched oh too real shivers up his spine with every stray, passing breeze. It was like sobering up from the fiercest of drugs, the come down was awful. All the previous adrenaline was wearing thin in his blood and, in it's absence, the aches and pains were starting to settle in.

"T'be honest, I'm just feckin' relieved t'see another human face!" He grinned. This time it wasn't a lie, ain't no stretching the truth here... for weeks it had been just Nancy and himself, skulking between buildings and struggling to figure out the new survival rule book.
It had been lonely.
It had been painful.
It had been an experience he never wanted to repeat, but one you woke up to day in day out until all sense of time had been beaten out of ya...

This girl was the first OTHER person for a while... she was pretty. A little bit ragged and worn down, like every other poor bastard out here, but there was still a glisten of warmth to her eyes, the same kind of warmth that radiated from apple pie cooling on a wind sill; home grown, rural, sweet and deliciously simple.

"He your beau?" Darling nodded at her ride, wringing out his shirt as he spoke.

[carter paisley]

Carter lived in the same small, community-based town her whole life. She grew up trusting people and with a neighbors-helping-neighbors mentality. When she heard the shakiness in his tone, all of those values came alive in her, though she just nodded, not argueing that he didn't seem fine. He was probably just as fine as he could be, what with everything gone to the dogs. As long as he hadn't been bitten. Kicking her feet out of the stirrups, she dismounted, standing where the grass came up past her knees.

"I know what you mean," she said, feeling the same relief that there was someone left who didn't want to have her for lunch. She had suspected there were other survivors -- afterall, if she was still alive by lucky chance, there had to be others. Having it proven was something else entirely and the overwhelming relief blinded her to the fact that he was still a complete stranger. Did it matter? She couldn't imagine anyone turning on her when there was a much bigger enemy for them to stand against.

She grinned when he nodded toward the horse and shook her head, contradicting the gesture by saying, "oh, yeah sure. This is Jacks. And I'm Carter."

[Deleted]

((OOC: Oh she's just too sweet! I almost feel mean leaving her in bastards hands here!))


"Pleasure, sure! Friends call me Darling!" he shook his head, unable to hide a grin of disbelief. She was a friendly and-- look at that! A pack full of gear and transport that did it's own fuel runs! Lady luck was finally a-smiling his way, that snotty bitch sure as hell took her time!

Having someone to watch your back was a god send, even if they were both lacking in the strength department.

"Aye! Lovely beast!" Darling remarked crossing the space between them and flanking Jacks to inspect the animal, with his hands pursed behind his back. Darling knew a little bit about horses, big part of Traveler heritage and his uncle bred the buggers for racing... or weddings or whatever, whichever venue offered more money for the hire of.
Either way, a good coat, bright eyes and pretty happy on it's feet generally meant an animal in good nick. A strong, healthy horse could carry ten times the luggage a man could, a walking stock larder. It also equaled height and speed, the ability to keep on moving under exhaustion and more otherwise crippling conditions.

But then there was the issue of food...

Without help, another mouth to feed required prolonged foraging time and more time spend hunting food in dangerous territory meant a severely increased risk of death. But then... with a horse you could never really starve, could you? The French eat horse meat, it can't be that bad...

It was shameful, maybe a little immoral, but Darling was born to a family of thieves, con artists and thugs; he'd learned the hard way to weigh up pro's and con's before shaking hands with the devil and making an agreement.

Considering the possibility of traveling with someone, possibly putting your life in their hands and taking their in yours was as big as agreements came he reckoned. Because let's face it, neither of them wanted to be alone, it was going to happen...

After a moment he winked at Carter over his shoulder with a laugh, "I ne'er remember, do I kiss his hand and pet you... or is it the other way around?"

[carter paisley]

(Haha, it's alright. It's weird rewinding her and playing her as someone so naive and friendly, but I love the chance to develop her into what she will be.)

"Darling?" she reflected with a puzzled expression. That was unusual, but he hadn't said it was his name, only what people called him. She took it literally and figured he must be a nice guy to have earned that title. He certainly seemed it as he...as he flirted with her? She wasn't sure if that's what was happening and erred on the side of caution in an attempt to avoid social awkwardness. A genial smile lit her face, as though she had forgotten the past couple of days. "You pet him," she replied, motioning with an elbow toward her mount.

"What's your name?" Although charming, she couldn't really see herself calling him 'Darling.' It felt too affectionate and they were strangers. Her parents hadn't even used pet names.

The horse wasn't interested in their conversation and tugged at the reins, grabbing Carter's attention again. "Sorry bub." She lead him closer to the water, holding the reins with enough slack that he could put his head down to drink, but still tight enough that they wouldn't get caught in his legs.

While she stood their, she turned her sight back to Darling and looked him over. He did appear pretty ragged and the blood was unsettling, although he seemed psychologically resilient to be able to carry on a lighthearted conversation with her as he was doing. Carter didn't have the slightest inkling of what was really going through his mind.

[Deleted]

((She IS pretty different! I had a lurk in your other Carter threads, pretty odd to see! I take my hat off to you, character development can be tricky as hell to show, but you've managed nicely!))

Catching the awkward grin on her, he couldn't help but to chuckle to himself.
If this were a club scenario, his cousins would have called that 'dropping a clanger'. Maybe it might have earned him a drink to the face. Admittedly he wasn't on his A-game, all the best material in his conversation arsenal seemed to be on lock down whilst nerves ran high. Once upon a time that would have irked him like a popcorn kernel wedged between the gums, he MIGHT have even apologised for the shoddy attempt at humour but today he just felt relieved. Relished the first chance to laugh in a long time.

Your sisters not even cold yet. Impressively cold, brother...

The thought turned uncomfortably in his gut, souring the mood but he shut it out all he could. Luckily, she'd taken Jacks over to the water, so he had a moment to recover himself. He slinked over to a fallen tree trunk not more than a few steps away and parked his arse, wringing out the last of the damp from his shirt.

"Naw, it's jes Darling," he teased grinning half heartedly, "Friends used to call me it cause I could sulk fer Ireland, kinda an ironic, mean thing that stuck. Sulking seems a bit silly now, though, doesn't it..." he paused in thought for a moment, before quickly changing the subject. Thinking about friends started up an ache that twisted like a vice in his chest, "Where you travellin' ta, Carter, love?"

Not that it mattered. She was local and he was lost, whichever way she was headed, he'd miraculously be going too.

[carter paisley]

Applejacks chugged the water and as Carter watched, she longed to take a bath. At least take off her socks and shoes and soak her feet, but the thought of a herd coming out of the woods and taking her by surprise made her shun the idea. Darling, on the other hand, had plunged right in it appeared, clothes and all.

"Ah, ok then. Just Darling," she nodded, momentarily contemplating why he would refuse his name. Either it was really bad -- something embarrassing maybe -- or he didn't want people to know his real name. 'Should I have given him an alias?' she wondered. 'Does it really matter?' She looked up again from her thoughts as he asked her a question.

"I'm headed to Georgia. My family has a place in McCollough and...I'm trying to find my brothers. If- If they're alive, they won't go home. There's too many people we know around town, too many faces to recognize as... those things, you know?"

[Deleted]

Turn back now, find YOUR sister, I dare you! Go on, bet you remember where you left her!

Darling hesitated to answer for a moment, gaze dropping, still stood there looking like a drowned rat...

Eyes on the prize then? No looking back? Good choice, now you haven't said anything for a few seconds too long...

Shit! What must he have looked like to this Carter girl? Poor things probably lost some of her own, scared half to death already and here he was all wet, bloody and crazy looking....

He glanced back up at her, this time really looking, genuinely studying her face. Exhaustion was plain enough to see in her doe eyes, but through the haze of worry and weariness was a fiery spark of determination and a glisten of intelligence.

She could hold her own and then some, but, like him, Darling was willing to bet that she couldn't do it alone.

After closing his eyes and pinching his brow for a second, he sighed and grinned half-heartedly, or at least best he could for through the shivers, "Your brothers sound like they got their shit together... I know what they mean... I don't think I can go back either..." and then added more seriously, "Look, I know this is a lot to put on you and you can turn me down if you don't wanna, but... I... I lost someone today and... I don't wanna be alone..." he scratched the back of his head, "You look tired and I can cook, I'll leave you in the morning or help you on your way..."

Pleading? That's cute.

[carter paisley]

Fidgeting, Carter looked at the young man curiously, even though she knew she had ended her speech with rhetoric and an answer was not mandatory. She couldn't judge him though. There had been moments where she had fallen to pieces and would have been incoherent if anyone had tried to get a word out of her. Although she made an effort not to stare, she happened to glance at him when he looked up and met his eyes.

She watched him, not masking the concern on her features. Hearing where he was going with the conversation, she didn't need him to finish before she started nodding. "Yeah, ok," she agreed. She had never before spent a night on her own in her life, much less three in a row, away from home, with the knowledge that there were corpses hungry for living flesh roaming the countryside. In short, she didn't want to be alone either.

"I'm sorry for your loss." The words sounded dry, too rigid and starch with formality. She knew better than to ask whom he had lost, so instead she gently queried, "do you want to talk about it?" If he didn't, she would completely understand, especially since it had been so recent, but she felt the need to make the offer just in case.

[Deleted]

His shoulders physically sagged for relief. All at once exhaustion flooded his system-- or maybe he just became aware of all the aches and pains that were already there. There was something about Carter, maybe it was the genuine worry in her eyes, something he wasn't used to seeing in anyone in or outside of the family, but she put him at ease, made him WANT to open up.

"... We were... ambushed," he admitted without thinking. The words just happened and he was hopeless to stop it, "went looking for supplies and walked into... just miles and miles of the fuckers... my sister got bit and... sorry..."

Stopping himself just short of disaster (Carter didn't need to know the full truth of the matter, but he supposed a little honesty wouldn't harm them) amazed at how fresh the emotional wound was, how could grief cause such a physical pain... he let a little of it show-- or at least made no attempt at hiding it.
It wouldn't kill him.
He'd just sleep off today, be more himself tomorrow, accept and move on.

Carter though... he couldn't figure her out... the kindness confused him, even made him a little suspicious.

Life as a traveler meant developing hardened skin and hair trigger aggression, people looked upon them with disdain, saw them as thieves, drug dealers and liars, a pestilence. Even his own family wasn't too keen on him, they wanted a young man and they got THIS Nancy boy... Carters sweet nature was alien to him.

"Sorry... I mean, thanks... yer a good lass, I'll tell ya more after we found a save place to hole up and a good meal in our bellies," he gave her an apologetic shrug and slunk off to the spot he'd dropped his jacket, hooking it up loosely with one digit and shrugging it on with a wince, "I wouldn' mind hearing your story too if you're up to'it after, too. I'm startin' t'think we need other people,"

[carter paisley]

Carter's expression did not disclose her surprise at him opening up to her. Empathetic by nature, she frowned, her brow furrowing as she related to his pain. It felt real to her, his story surrounded her in just the few broken phrases he uttered. His sister. That was a heavy loss to suffer.

Slowly during their conversation, she had been gravitating closer to him, a half-step here or there when it felt natural. Growing up with horses, she learned not to spook them by moving too quickly and the same principle applied here, although she didn't even realize what she was doing. At this point though, she took the last step to close the gap and crouched in front of him, resting her hand lightly on his knee for a few seconds. She didn't say anything, didn't even look to make eye contact, it was just a quiet gesture to let him know she wanted him to take some comfort.

Her physical skin was toughened from manual work, the palms of her hands calloused and the soles of her feet rough from running around all summer barefooted. It was her metaphorical, psychological skin that was still tender and undeveloped. No one's life was perfect, but hers had been close enough for her satisfaction. Her family had high expectations of her, but when she met those expectations she was rewarded and when she failed to meet them, her family was merciful. She saw the beauty of that dynamic and was thankful for it, although maybe it hadn't prepared her for the coming of the end.

"Alright," she agreed amicably, standing to give him space.

She believed that they needed each other and that survivors in general should band together. The saying, 'no man is an island,' sprung to mind.

Jacks' reins were still in her one hand and she turned to him to rub his forehead. He was a good horse, patient and easy-going, content to stand quietly while they spoke. Once Darling had retrieved his personal affects, she reckoned they would start searching for shelter for the night. They could always go back to the cellar where she had spent the night, it wasn't terribly far, but she didn't really want to backtrack if they could find something else.