Nicotine

Chapter 6: Instinct

Narrator Pov
Present
It was your fault Stella. IT WAS YOUR DAMN FAULT!

Stella's body shoots forward all of a sudden and she has to grab hold of the bough thats supporting her weight beneath her to steady herself. Her eyes are bloodshot, her mouth is dry and her heart is palpitating out of her chest. She leans up against the trunk behind her and closes her eyes for a moment while she grasps at the fabric covering her chest.

Below her, her hound is beyond concerned. Shes only just registered the deep barks coming from the base of the tree as the ringing in her ears subsides.

'It's okay Bullet!' She calls down to him while still trying to catch her breath. It was his bark that actually awoke her in the first place. Hes done this for her for years, accept now hes not sleeping beside her on a second hand matress with scratchy worn out sheets. As soon as he hears her start to whimper or detects the sudden rise of her heartrate, he will wake her up. First he will try and be gentle, nudging her and licking her face. When that doesn't work or he can't reach her, he begrudingly uses louder methods.

She wishes he wouldn't bark when he's not commanded. But for once, she's greatful for his disobedience.

The bags that weigh down her eyes are an indicator that she doesn't get much sleep. Most nights her dreams are plagued by the demons of her past. They torment her through both the day and the night, but when she is asleep, the hounds that were once bound by chains run free and feast on her deepest and darkest memories and fears. Some nights she just stares out into the horizon all night long, prying open her eyes so she won't have to bere witness to the horrors of her past over and over until she wakes up in a cold sweat.

Sleep is vital to maintain focased in a world were everything is trying to kill you. But that doesn't mean it comes easy.

She cascades down the tree with a rope, one end tied around her waist and the other tied to the trunk of the tree. Shes confident that the knot won't break. She trusts in the person that made her do it over and over again until her fingers bled and she got it right that it won't, more so than herself. Her hands are scraped up and calloused from constant propelling and ascending to high places in hopes of not being attacked by the living dead. That and from the friction caused by weilding and twisting her daggers in her palms. She never manages to slice herself with its blade though. That hasn't happened in years, but the scars on her palms and fingers show evidence of previous accidents.

Once on the ground, her and Bullet indulge in some of the venison harvested the day previous. She gives her dog more then she gives herself, always putting his needs before her own, as she knows he would do the same for her in the line of duty. Most of the meat from yesterday is gone however. After speaking with Daryl, she turned back to the RV.

'Stand watch.' She left Bullet outside as she went to knock gently on the door of the RV.

'Come in!' Was all she heard from a frail voice inside. She walked in with her bandana down but still kept a hand on the blades in her sleeves. 'Oh.' Carol was more than surprised and albeit quite afraid. This women was searching with everyone else for her daughter but she is threatening, espeicially with the dog. 'Can I help you?' She asked in a quiet voice.

Without a word, Stella put a large package wrapped in brown paper on the countertop that was stained in a menacing red colour. Carol was even more frightened now, taking her chest in her hand and her eyes growing wide. 'What's that?'

'It's deer meat. It's fresh and I uh, thought you could use a good meal.'

Carol could swear she was hallucinating, especially after that uncharacteristicly compassionate talk with Daryl and now this from a total stranger?