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[ season two, episode five ]
Boredom had become a fairly frequent state of mind for Marley Whitman, despite the impending doom of the world's end.
There wasn't much to do around camp, she discovered, other than helping the older members complete mediocre tasks — such as collecting fresh fruit from nearby trees with fraying wicker baskets, or tending to the crackling fire with a large stick when nightfall began to creep across the sky. And that was pretty much it. Sometimes ( if she was lucky ) Shane would ask her to help him collect firewood from the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm. But usually, the Walsh would venture out alone.
On that particular afternoon — the day after the well-walker mishap — Marley was sitting on a reclining chair beside Dale's RV.
Since the weather was nicer than usual and they had shade beneath the RV's awning to protect them from the scolding heat, Sage decided to join her sister outside. From the moment they arrived, the youngest Whitman had been cooped up inside the Greene's congenial farmhouse — albeit by her own personal choice. Spending the majority of her time beneath four walls and a roof ( away from potential walkers and, well, insects) was a far more appealing option. For starters, the crimson tracks of sunburn trialing over her arms and shoulders had faded considerably, and she noticed she didn't suffer through so many migraines anymore, which had presumably been caused by the sun beating down into her eyes.
Still, it was nice to get some fresh air.
In her hands, Marley was clutching a map of the verdant farm and the microscopic areas that encircled it, using a red marker to circle points in the faint illustration where she believed Sophia may be lurking. Hopefully. She desperately wanted to become a member of the search party, but Rick and Lori — even Shane, for heaven's sake — swiftly came to the conclusion that a child couldn't participate in such dangerous endeavours.
Reality was, they didn't want another missing kid on their radar.
"Marley."
The Whitman quickly jerked her head toward the RV, squinting through the brightness that was pouring relentlessly from the sun.
By the doorway Glenn stared back, a small frown splayed over his features. "Want a peach?"
He gestured to the half-empty wicker basket dangling from his forearm. Inside, peaches and apples were stacked atop one another — ripe and freshly-picked from the trees that hung over their knot of vibrant tents.
