↳ it's who we are now...
oc x carl grimes
season 4-7
TW: Mentions of death, gory depictions, suicide, alcohol and drug abuse, language, smoking, violence, depression, and other mature topics.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim to own any of The Walk...
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Even though I manage to sleep through the night, I'm exhausted when I wake up. My back is also a little sore, and muscles tight from our walk yesterday, but I stretch everything out and am immediately back to normal.
Rick prepares us a meal, pulling whatever cans we have left from his bag and begins to get them over the flame of the fire that managed to survive through the night. The peaceful moment lasts very shortly, however, because while we're eating our breakfast of canned corn and spinach, three walkers come meandering into our campsite.
"I've got it," Michonne mutters quietly, still waking herself up as she sets down her can of corn, grabs her katana, and goes off to take care of them. In a few lethal slashes, the trio is on the ground, probably beginning a pool of blood in the crunchy leaves below. I decide not to think about that right now because it will take away my appetite from my meal, which I already can't really call appetizing at the moment.
After breakfast, I down a bottle of water. Rick speaks about checking the traps. I want to lie back down and take a nap before we continue our trek to Terminus, but he asks the whole group to join him. He's still talking about how Carl and I need to learn these skills ourselves. Even though I know he's right, my body aches for just a little bit more rest. I resist the urge, knowing it will make me look weaker than I am, and follow everyone through the brush Rick waded through yesterday.
The traps he set up are about a hundred yards from our site. It's a straight shot from where we had been sleeping, and once more, the woods are clear, not a singular sound filling them. I realize how much I don't like the quiet. It's so much creepier than a symphony of walkers shouting and shrieking as they stalk their next meal. Even the sounds of morning songbirds are absent and leave an emptiness in the barren forest.
The first three traps we check have a rabbit hanging by the wire, it's neck wrapped tightly in the silvery noose. I have a hard time stopping myself from licking my lips at the thought of fresh meat. I'm so hungry, and the thought of such a meal seem intangible. We would only get it every so often at the prison. It was practically a delicacy since being able to harvest enough for everyone to eat was difficult without depleting our nearby resources. Now, I can taste the greasy rabbit that we will be enjoying for dinner just from the thought of it.
As Rick takes the rabbits from the traps and stows them into a burlap sack, he explains the use of them to Carl and I. Carl asks questions, completely engrossed in the situation. I would be, too, if my head didn't feel so foggy.
