Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
JULIETTE NEVER THOUGHT SHE would be familiar with an ache in her legs, but here she is. She's sitting alongside Tyreese, who is wringing his shirt out after having cleaned it in the creek in front of them. She allowed her bones to rest momentarily, because she knew they wouldn't be stopping again for a while, not when they hadn't succeeded in finding medicine in the first place.
She used the stream to her advantage and splashed the cold water against her face, giving her a wake up call of sorts. Despite just earlier feeling as though her life was coming to a gory end, she has yet to regret going on this run. It was a scary adrenaline rush, and it made her momentarily forget about her worries that were waiting for her back at the prison. Though, the more she thought about her death, she hoped that when the time came, that her end won't be brutal and painful.
"This is Turner Creek, so Barnsville must be a few miles downstream," Michonne concluded quietly from behind Jules, causing the latter to perk her head up more and direct her focus on their new plan.
"Sounds like our best chance at finding a new ride," Bob spoke up, causing Jules to wince. Don't get her wrong, she'd kill to find a running vehicle, but it sounded a little too optimistic for her taste.
"Yo, Jules, Ty," Daryl called, causing the duo to look up. Their eyes connected with the trio, who was standing atop a bridge that went over the creek. "Come on, let's go. Vámonos." Jules stood, feeling the burn in her thighs as she reached Daryl and Michonne. Tyreese had made it apparent that he had yet wanted to depart, because he still sat at the stream, wringing his shirt. Daryl, Jules, and Michonne continued on their way as Bob stood back and called for Tyreese.
Eventually, the two men caught up to the rest of the group. Michonne and Daryl walked a few paces ahead, with Jules in the middle, and Bob with Tyreese in the back. They had been walking along a trail for what felt like hours to the teen, and she would occasionally clutch her stomach that begged to be filled. She had failed to pack appropriately; a stale protein bar that she was saving for when . . if she really needed it.
Michonne slowed, now walking alongside Jules and matching her pace. Michonne continued to look forward. "Why'd you come?" Michonne questions pointedly, and Jules looks the opposite way, feeling the woman's gaze burning holes through her head. "Something's up. What's wrong?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jules mumbled before biting her lip anxiously, shrugging her shoulders. She turned her head back to Michonne, only for the woman to be looking ahead again.
"Oh, please," Michonne scoffed, shaking her head side to side. "You never jump on the opportunity to go on a run."
"Fine," Jules seethed, voice raising, though not fully intending to sound so angry. The sudden change in tone caused Daryl to look over his shoulder. "What isn't wrong, Michonne? Our people are getting sick. They're dying. Someone murdered two people." She quickly wiped at the tears that were forming, swallowing her dry throat. "I—Scout . . . I don't know what to do."
