Coraline Young, a 26-year-old lone survivor, desperately searching for her younger brother as the world crumbles around her. Hope dwindling as days turn to weeks. Aimlessly she wanders through the wilderness, chasing ghosts and guesses, too stubborn...
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The midday sun burned bright, no clouds on the horizon. You exit the building, people scattered around the area in good spirit, dinner preparation commencing. Maggie, who you'd gotten to know very well over the past few days, gives you a friendly wave from where she sits with Glenn. Her face scrunched as he enlightened her with one of his rather dreadfully bad jokes. You and he were a painful pair most of the time, your humor similar in nature, double trouble once one of you got the ball rolling.
You made your way across the pavement, spotting the archer sitting with his back against the stone wall, an apple in hand - mindlessly gazing into the distance.
It has been a rough week since that - well, for lack of a better word - weird day in the woods, and despite your hopes of growing some sort of friendship with the man, or at least forming a mutual agreement to tolerate one another, it seemed that every time you dared approach him, the distance between you grew. With every step you took forward, he took three back.
Yet, unknowingly you sought out his company, finding his presence calming in the chaos of life, which alarmed you strangely - this sudden need of yours for some sort of validation or appreciation from the other unnerved you. It simply wasn't in your vocabulary to care about how other people viewed you, if they didn't like you it was their problem, not yours, but somehow his - as you'd put it 'insignificant' - opinion mattered.
You knew from the other members of the community that his absence, the way he kept to himself and carefully chose who to associate with, was nothing out of the ordinary. But you watched the way he somehow knew everyone by name in the group and how a lot of them looked up to him. And if he needed time to figure you out, figure out if he wanted to trust you, then you'd give him time - just not forever since these days time is a precious gift and is not to be mindlessly wasted.
Of course, he hadn't been avoiding you the whole week, since he was a very busy man and held a large responsibility role in the prison group. However, his avoidance of you was unfortunately noticeable in any sort of social situation - whether it be at dinner times or when the group gathers around to talk - even just when you tried to make small-talk he busied himself with the strangest tasks. Perhaps he just didn't deal well with crying women in the woods and felt the need to avoid you for all eternity.
You removed your checkered flannel, leaving you in a tank top - the blazing heat vicious against your exposed skin. Your hair flowed freely over your shoulders, the soft afternoon breeze blowing through it gently. You tucked a few curls behind your ear, exposing your sun-kissed cheeks, your freckles prominent.
You neared him at a peaceful pace, almost mischievously quiet in your movements. You deemed you'd given him enough space for now and it was about time to grace him with your company.
As he raised the apple towards his lips, you took the opportunity and snatched it from his grasp, taking two steps back, marveling at your success.
