𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ❖ DARYL DIXON

17. LAKEHOUSE SECRECTS AND OTHER THINGS

FREYA WAS ACTUALLY UNSURE OF just where she currently was, when she woke up in a warm bed. The feeling of the room felt familiar, and as her eyes groggily opened, surrounded by sleep, the first thing she noticed was the pain in her finger tips, her head and her thigh.

It took the brunette a moment to remember that she had actually been shot however many night ago and-...
wait, just how many nights have it be? And just where was she right now?

Freya made the mistake of sitting up right, and it just about caused death in all parts of her body and a groan to emitted from her mouth and her eyes scrunched up.

"Now don't go sitting up too fast." Hershel.

Freya whipped her head to the side at the sound of his voice. He held a gentle look on his face as he looked at Freya with kind eyes -with those Hershel eyes he owned. But there was something about him that Freya noticed that was different.
Hershel looked clean. His hair wasn't dirty and there was barely any lingering bits of walker blood, dirt, grease or sweat on him. And his clothes were clean too, despite the fact he wore a white linen top that was a size too big on him.

"Hershel...wha?" Freya's voice felt all worn, and raspy. It almost hurt to speak.

Without another word out of him, Hershel turned around and grabbed a plastic water bottle off a table top, passing it to Freya. Freya took the water gratefully and down it as she looked around. There was wallpaper along the walls that were in a flower arrangement. It stopped halfway and was met with carefully hand crafted wall decor that made the house look like it was made by some wealthy person way back when people didn't have to worry about the collapse of society.

There was even a whole ass chandelier in the ceiling. And that thing looked more expensive than Freya's ransom money note when she was a kid...bad joke?

"You were shot, and got frostbite." Hershel explained like Freya didn't already know. "You fell into a fit of hypothermia, and we were lucky to have come across this place when we did...You've been out for almost a week."

"A week?!" Freya repeated, instantly glancing around. "Where the hell are we?"

Hershel put down he book he and been reading before Freya just decided to wake up. He sighed for a moment, but he leaned in slightly. "When you do get up, I'd like it if you tried not to lean too much on that leg of yours. I don't want to have to re-do any more stitches."

"Hershel." Freya tiled her head, pursing her lips slightly. "Where am I?"

"We found your brother." Hershel just ripped it off like a band aid. "And he took us to that mansion you spoke about."

Freya was frozen for a moment, gripping with the new information. Her brother? Freya's baby brother? Chocking on a breath, Freya genuinely forgot to breath for a moment as a sudden influx of tears brewed at her eyes.
Ripping off the covers of the bed sheets she were on, Freya didn't give a damn that she was wearing new pants, a different shirt and Daryl's vest. She didn't care that her leg felt like hell or that Hershel called out after her, advising her firmly not to run.

Freya skidded to a stop near the grand entrance of the house. The big ass doors, and the twin set of stairs and the mini balcony she stopped herself on, choosing for the stairs on her left, Freya flew down them, skipping every second step or so.
She used the fancy stair case rail thing to spin around on the marble floor as she set her eyes on the sets of the door.

Remembering the path to the biggest room of the house, Freya ran for it, shoving aside the floor and leaping inside. The idle chatter inside was stopped within a heartbeat, and three sets of figures rose to their feet.