lil' miss birdy greene wasn't meant for this world.
the blood, the gore, the violence, it just wasn't her
even the weak can survive
but the strong thrive
[season 2- ]
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"BIRDY!"
It was another sunny, mild summer day on the farm in central Georgia. The sun was already in the sky, sending bright rays into Birdy's bedroom.
With a groan, Birdy slipped out of her bed, tugging her tank top back down over her lower stomach and shifting her sleep shorts back into place. She shuffled over to the window and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
It was so peaceful outside. She could see the gentle breeze flowing through the tree branches, through the tall grass in the field. The cattle was grazing and the chickens were set loose from their coop.
If this was a few years ago, Birdy would take a trip to town with her mother in their beat up truck, get a coffee and walk the streets. Stop and talk to Lou, maybe even Sherry who owned the flower shop.
But that wasn't the world anymore. There was no more coffee shops or bakeries. No more Sherry or Lou.
Just the dead. The living, walking dead. And those who weren't dead yet.
"Birdy! Breakfast! Come on!"
The blonde woman let out a huff, turning away from the window before heading to the dresser to change.
Her uncle didn't give her a lot of time to grab her things from the house. Only some jeans, tank tops, and shirts. She was lucky to grab a few pairs of bras and underwear before he dragged her out of her house.
She slipped on a basic jean and tank top combo before grabbing a pair of socks and rushed downstairs, not even bothering to check her hair or face, "I'm comin'. Hold your horses." She mumbled as Maggie called her name out again,
"'Bout time you got up. We've already finished most of the chores." The brunette smirked over at her,
"I was up late, sorry." Birdy sat down at the table next to Beth and smiled at her uncle, "Mornin'."
Her uncle Hershel nodded before taking a sip of his tea, "The horses still need brushin' down. The girls left that for you."
"My favourite." The blonde grabbed some toast before standing, "I'll get right on that." She took a bite of the buttered bread before heading towards the front door. She kept her food in between her teeth as she slipped on her boots and shuffled out the door.
Birdy stood on the edge of the porch, taking a deep breath. She didn't have fresh air like this in Atlanta. There was always some sort of polluted smell, coming from cars or trash. But here, the smell was different. Yes, there was a slight stench of manure, but it was homey.
She took large strides towards the stables, finishing her food by the time she had gotten there. Birdy spent the next few hours mucking out the stalls, brushing down the horses and checking them over.
She liked to keep busy, it kept her from thinking too much. Thinking about what's going on outside the farm, what happened in the house a mile down the road.
The sun was at its peak by the time Birdy had finished. She wasn't ready to go back to the house, so she decided to saddle up her horse,
"Let's go, Dolly girl." She stroked her blonde horse gently before jumped from the step stool and sliding onto the saddle, "Git." She flicked the reigns and led her horse out of the stable and towards the woods.
She never told her uncle or her cousins about the lone creepers she would see in the woods. Usually she was on Dolly, and her horse easily out ran the slower monsters.
It was quiet out in the trees, the only sound was the breeze rustling the leaves. There weren't any rotters around, she'd be able to hear and smell them.
She was alone.
It didn't take too long before she reached the old red house. Birdy sat on Dolly, staring up at the chipped paint. Her father was talking about repainting it for many summers now, but never got around to it.
And he never will.
Before she could get off her horse, a gunshot echoed through the forest. Birdy tensed and Dolly neighed slightly in discomfort, "Shhh, you're fine, girl." Birdy whispered, patting her horse's neck gently, "It's fine."
Was Otis out hunting? Or was someone else out there, getting attacked?
Birdy lingered for a few moments, waiting to hear another gunshot or some other noise.
But there was nothing.
The blonde woman slipped off her horse and slowly made her way up the front steps of her home. The wooden stairs creaked under her weight,
Her father never got around to fixing that either.
Before she could open the door, she heard branches snapping behind her. Dolly let out a nervous huff and Birdy quickly turned back around.
She rushed back over to Dolly and jumped back onto her, expecting to see rotters coming through the trees.
Instead, she was met with a man in a uniform, covered in blood. And in his arms was a little boy who was bleeding heavily from his torso,
