↳ 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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"Dad, look." I lift my head from Daryl's chest when I hear Carl's voice. I feel tired, so have to fight the growing urge to lay my spinning head back down, but am also curious as to what is going on.
Once I turn to look at the road ahead, I see what Carl's trying to get Rick's attention about. Ahead of us, just over a small hill, is a cluster of waiting cars. The look dusty and rusted beneath their coats of chipping paint, but none of that would matter if a couple of them worked. If that were so, we might be able to pile in and keep moving, at least as much as we can for a little while. If nothing else, we would all get some rest, but won't have to stop in the middle of nothingness to do so.
"I'm gonna head into the woods, circle back," Daryl declares. I know that that's my cue to stand up, but my legs feel stiff. Daryl lets me down carefully, making sure I can balance on my own before he allows me to put all my weight on my own two feet. I don't have much faith in myself as far as my messy balancing act goes, but I do a decent job at convincing everyone else. "Are you good by yourself?"
"Yes, but could I come with you?" Daryl doesn't seem like he wants me to, whatsoever, in fact, from the look on his face. "I need to stretch and move my legs a little because they're stiff. If you don't think-"
"You can come. If you're hurting, tell me and I'll carry you back? Got it?" I nod. The rules seem pretty simple and with Daryl, I've learned that it's better to pretend to acknowledge them early on and then apologize when he contests that you've bent them. Daryl grabs his crossbow before I clutch onto his muscular arm and trudge into the woods. I glance over my shoulder to see the rest of the group proceeding forward.
The layer of prospering, green ferns growing at the edge of the forest tickle my legs through my jeans. Their soft, feathery leaves have a way of doing that, and then dance in place like feathers themselves.
As I've noticed with my newest injury, my feet don't fail to step down a bit too harshly, snapping sticks underneath my boots. Before, I was able to keep a pretty quiet pace in the woods, learning only the best methods from Daryl, but it will take some of my recovery time before things like that can fully turn back to normal.
"You scared everyone back there," Daryl breaths, his raspy voice hanging low as not to spook anything nearby.
"I scared myself," I state as I duck under a low-hanging branch. The last thing I need is to get struck in the face on a day like today.
"Why didn't you tell no one you were feelin' like that?"
"I didn't think it was that bad. I've felt worse when I've been hungry. I felt worse when that bullet grazed me. I thought the headache and everything else would just go away when I quit thinking about it."
