in a dark meadow | daryl dixon

wildflowers

word count: 5284

The ring of a gunshot.

It was distant, sounding from the direction they came from, and immediately rang red alarms in Lori's head. 

She stopped, waiting for the echo of a second round, but none came. She knew her husband. He wouldn't dare draw out any unnecessary noise. Who shot their gun? And for what purpose?

"That was a gun."

Daryl dismissed her. "We all heard it."

"Why one gun shot?"

"Shouldn't they have caught up to us by now?" Carol added.

"Nothin' we can do 'bout it now. Can't run around these woods chasin' echoes."

"They're capable." Avery tried her best to mediate both sides, knowing that Lori was probably going mad with worry, but also noting that the forest would plunge into total darkness within the next few hours. "They'll find us back at the highway."

Though she could tell Lori was not satisfied with their inaction, she resumed their trek back to the RV. 

Before the gunshot rang out, she had reprimanded all of them for their treatment towards Rick, for demanding him to be the perfect leader but only seeing imperfect actions. For Carol blaming him on Sophia's disappearance. Lori's voice shook as she spoke, when she had guaranteed that none of them would've run after Sophia like Rick did, and Avery knew it couldn't be argued. There were no winners in this situation.

Avery's feet ached as she realized she had nothing to look forward to when they arrived - no shower, no bed, and no warm meal (unless you counted an unopened can of beans baking in the sun). She stopped carrying on conversations, focusing her remaining energy on placing one foot in front of the other.

"How much farther?"

"Not much," Daryl shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted into the distance. "Maybe a hundred yards as the crow flies."

Avery stared at him, an eyebrow raised. Translation?

"Too bad we're not crows," Andrea mumbled before sulking off on her own. 

Sighing, Avery withdrew her water bottle and drained the last drop, her lips chapped and throat bone-dry. It had been a long day in the Georgian heat. 

Glenn walked up beside Avery and offered his fist, to which she bumped hers against. She silently thanked him for motivating her, and adjusted her pack higher on her shoulders. 

The group continued forward, too exhausted to realize Andrea had wandered off.

Then a scream.

"Andrea?!"

Daryl was the first to take off. They pushed through curtains of low branches and vaulted over fallen trunks to see Andrea on the ground. She was crawling on her back, trying to escape the prowler that hovered over her. 

Daryl moved to load his crossbow, but the distance was too far, and all they could do was scream.

Nobody noticed the galloping horse in the distance until it was in front of them. The rider, a young woman, armed with a steel bat, swung and smashed the walker's head before it could feed on Andrea. 

Avery watched, too stunned to admire the bad-assery, then quickly raced forward to retrieve Andrea.

"Lori?" The mysterious young woman looked down at Andrea from atop her horse. Her brown hair was chopped short and brushed against her cheeks as she spoke. Avery's eyes traced to her hip, expecting a gun. But she was unarmed, minus the bat. "Lori Grimes?"