A Thief with a Machete

Chapter 26

My feet crunched the dead leaves and melting snow, making me shudder at how loud I was.

I'd been out here for three hours and still hadn't caught anything.

I thought back to my first time hunting for myself.

~

I'd been starving for the last week, passing out every so often. It was getting worse and I knew I couldn't go raiding until the word of me had died down a bit.

Leaves crunched under my feet and made me shiver. The bitter wind whipped me in the face and stung.

I tugged at my scarf thing that covered my mouthh and clung to my skin. I pulled out my crossbow and loaded it. I eyed up the ground and I felt my breath get hot in the scarf. 

I pulled down my scarf just as I saw something scurry on the tree in front of me.

YES!

I slowly pulled up my crossbow and aimed it at the fat squirrel. I let out a slow breath then fired and closed my eyes.

The squirrel let out a small squeel and fell limp, being hung up by the arrow. I opened my eyes and stared at the dead squirrel.

I slowly stepped toward the body and pulled the arrow out, the squirrel body coming with it. I scowled and twirled the arrow.

I'd need a lot more practice to keep living.

~

I thought that I would die soon. But I didn't.

I kneeled down and examined the ground. The tracks were big and ragged, circles with a triangle out of each one. 

They looked like PacMan so I knew they were horse tracks.

I pulled down my scarf and stared at the tracks intently.

"What the f**k is a horse doing in the woods?" I asked myself whispering.

I heard growls from behind me and I quickly snatched my machete form it's holster and jumped up.

A walker stood before me and reached for me.

Before I could do anything, A blade chopped it's upper-head off.

I stared at the body before realizing a figure was inching closer to me.

I snapped my head up and grabbed my gun.

"Woah," the figure said in a voice that sounded like a woman. "No need for guns."

I looked at her. She had blackish blondish dreads, a vest, skinny jeans, and dark skin. She was African American and had in her hand a long katana with blood splattered over it.

"My names Michonne," she said. "Are you alone? Any group?" 

"Yes, I gotta group. Yes I am alone," I said pointing my gun between her eyes.

"I don't want trouble," she said.

"Neither do I..." I said grimly.

"Is there any chance I can join your group?" she asked.

I shrugged.

It took awhile but eventually I got her to put her katana away and go back to the house with her.

Never did find that horse, though.

~

Michonne had fit in with the group and would take the room on the bottom floor that we did nothing with.

I walked outside with my hand on the tip of my machete.

I didn't like new people. It took me a while to get used to this group and it had my uncle in it.

It was weird calling Daryl my uncle, he seemed more like a dad.

I shook my head and blew the wispies out of my eyes.

Daryl is more than an uncle. He is blood, not mere words.

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Sorry it took forever to update, I've been obsessed with The Maze Runner lately and I haven't gotten around to writing this book. 

I'm thinking about making it a chapter a week so I have time to make them longer and to work on some new books I am going to be writing.

I need to know what you guys think.