*Daryl's POV*
With the kids on their way to our camp, I decided to go find Sapphire. The tracks would be old. Possibly too old. But she was going in a straight line, so I could guess where exactly I needed to go.
You could feel something in the air. Almost as if it were telling me to turn back. Almost as if it were telling me I would regret this if I kept going. I only walked faster.
Small limbs were snapping under the pressure of my feet. It was quiet. Almost too quiet.
I finally found her tracks again. They were old, but they were still tracks.
They led to a small clearing with what had been a beautiful dogwood tree. Now, it was broken, shattered at the base. It was sunken down in the mud. The flowers, once a beautiful pink, were now a muddy, churned up mess. Something had went down here. There was no way that tree broke on its own.
I shifted my crossbow off of my shoulder. I raised it to eye level, looking down the sights. I had learned to do that since this started. You could never be too careful.
I reached the tree. There were footprints all in the mud, as well as pieces of rotting flesh that had fallen off of the walkers that did this. Of course. They always ruined everything.
I'm not sure how long I stood there. All I know is that when I finally came back to reality, I could hear something behind me. There was groaning, and shuffling. I had a visitor.
My hand slid to my belt, and I pulled my knife out of its sheath. These damn things weren't getting me yet.
*Rick's POV*
Glen and I stood guard at the gates. There had been quite a few walkers lately, and we needed to be ready to open those gates if the need arose. Daryl and Sapphire were still not back. I made a mental note to throttle the both of them when they came back.
If they came back.
I shook my head. We couldn't afford to think like that. But at the same time, we had no other choice.
A twig snapped in the trees to the right of the fence. Glen snatched his gun out of his holster, turning to face whoever, or whatever, was intruding on us. I followed his lead.
A young man stepped out of the trees. He was tall, at least six feet, four inches. He looked to be anywhere from eighteen to twenty one. His skin was dark, and his cheekbones were very high. He was Native American, although partially.
"Rick, we need your help."
I turned the safety off, raising my gun level with his head. "Don't come any closer. It's best if you leave. Now."
His eyes darkened and he dropped his hands by his sides. "Please. Daryl sent us. I can prove it."
My mouth went dry. "Daryl? You've seen Daryl? And us? You don't look like anybody is with you."
His mouth turned into a smirk. "I've seen him. He sent us. I can prove it."
He turned around, facing the trees. He let out a strange, three beat whistle. In return, a louder whistle, as if several people were whistling, sounded.
Which made sense when about fifteen other kids stepped out of the trees. Some stood in pairs, holding small bundles in their arms. Others stood by themselves with a small bundle, or perhaps just by themselves in general.
He was looking at one of the young girls with love in his eyes. He seemed to soften when he looked at her. I found myself thinking of Daryl and Sapphire and Maggie and Glen. Funny how that works.
