Freya Quinn was uniquely herself despite the events of the apocalypse she was thrown into. She was a paradox to understand and a combination of heaven and hell thrown together to create such a woman. And the only person in the whole wide world that...
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SWEAT DRIPPED DOWN FREYA'S SKIN like an endless waterfall as she used an axe to deliver the final blows into the heads of walkers and those bitten alike. It was morning now, the sun was shining like a blister and Freya could feel the consequences of being under the sun.
Unable to get a wink of sleep, Freya had stayed up the whole night, dealing with the dead, by making sure they stay dead. Driving an axe into her brains were the only way to solve that dilemma, so for however many hours it's been by holding the axe high above her to striking it down and heaving it back up before dragged the corpses over to a burning pile or to the 'people' pile, Freya had felt each second of them.
She probably wouldn't be sweating so much if she just put her hair up in the hair-tie Lori had offered her, but she had 6 reasons on the back of her neck to not, so her hair stayed down and the tie stayed on her wrist. She tried not to focus on who she was sending an axe through to the head of, and she did her best on just trying to aim. She didn't really want to know who were left to turn into the dead and who was left in pieces.
But she did know who turned out to be dead. Not matter how hard she would try to avoid, she end up letting herself know. More than half the camp was gone, and they were dead in just a matter of seconds. Freya could have very well been one of them if she didn't have the grace of a weapon with her, but she tried not to focus on that. Amy was one of those who didn't make it in the end, and Andrea was still kneeling over her body, unmoving.
Ed was also one of those to pass during the night. And although Freya slapped herself for thinking 'good riddance' the moment she found out, she had to remember that Ed was still a husband and a father...even though he was still a jackass.
"A walker got him!" Jacqui's voice suddenly rung out, sounding panicked and firm at the same time. "A walker got Jim!"
Freya whipped her head up just as everyone else did. But unlike everyone else, Freya didn't feel the need to take a weapon with her as she moved up quickly to where Jacqui once sat. As Freya slowed her walk down as she narrowed her eyes from the sun, she looked at Jim's pale and sickly form and she cursed herself for not taking action or at least noticing it sooner.
"Show it to us!" Daryl demanded as he strolled over with a pickaxe slung over his shoulder.
As more demands came from the surrounding people, Jim got more and more anxious, and in his fit of anxiety, he resorted to what he found the best possible answer for himself and he ended up grabbing a shovel and swinging it around, fending everyone gathering around him off.
"Grab him! Grab him!" Shane demanded
"Jim!" Freya walked as fast as she could over to him, but as the shovel was lined with her face, she slowed her pace. "Jim, give me the shovel please."
Jim's eyes were wide, and his breathing was harsh yet he didn't put up much of a fight. He didn't do much with the shovel other than dropping it to the ground a few seconds after. Freya then continued her walk towards the man before Daryl or Shane could get the jump on him. Again, Jim didn't put up much of a fight as Freya grabbed the rim of his shirt and pulled it up. And there it was, right on his torso was a bite mark that sunk deep into skin, blood slowing oozing out.
