TWD- Little Heart Of Iron

7. Funerals and Card Games.

Surprisingly, Blake had gotten more than three hours of sleep, the night before. When she woke up the next morning in Daryl's tent, she was alone.

She hated that. Her whole life, people would just leave without letting her know. So often, she would wake up for school, just to find that she was the only one home. Her dad was probably out at a bar or left early for work, or something in between. And so often, she would be forced to walk almost two miles to school on her own instead of getting a ride from her dad, which resulted in her being late to school every other day.

She groaned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her body was a bit sore from the night before, when that walker practically body slammed her onto the dirt.

After a few minutes of pondering, she stood up and walked over to her bag. She pulled out a new pair of jean shorts, with a white, knee-length dress. It would probably be hot that day, she figured. She didn't bother to wear her sneakers. She knew it probably wasn't safe to walk around barefoot, but her shoes were getting too small, and she didn't want to wear them more than she needed to. It was uncomfortable.

After getting dressed, she stepped out of the tent, which was already halfway unzipped. She adjusted her eyes to the morning sunlight before scanning over the camp in search of her uncle.

And sure enough, there he was, standing over a dead man's body as he swung an axe down on his head.

Blake started making her way over to Daryl, but he noticed her before she even took more than five steps. He saw her white dress from the corner of his eye. He sat his axe down and took the towel that he had slung over his shoulder and wiped his hands as he made his way to Blake.

"Hey." He grumbled, blocking Blake's view from the rest of the camp.

"Hi," Blake mumbled. "What're you doin'?" She asked as she tried to peek over Daryl's shoulder. She was too short.

"Takin' care of this shit." He said. "Gotta make sure those things are really dead. You don't needa see that, though. You already seen enough."

"I ain't five, ya know. I can handle seein' a little blood." She lied.

"Yeah. Sure. Last night told me differently."

"That wasn't fair. I didn't have my knife." Blake said in a defensive tone. "I woulda killed the thing. Honest."

Daryl chuckled at the girl's defensiveness. "Calm down, girl. Where is yer knife, anyway?"

"I think it's still down at the quarry," Blake said, her expression softening once she figured out that Daryl had just been teasing her. "Hopefully, it didn't fall in the water or somethin'."

"Well, go find it. And don't take all day. We gotta pack, once you get back." Daryl said as he started walking back toward where he left his axe. Blake followed him.

"Pack? We're leavin'?"

"That's the plan."

"Where are we goin'?"

"Shane and Rick been arguin' over it. Shane says Fort Benning. Rick says CDC. He wants ta help Jim.

"Help Jim? Why?" Blake asked curiously.

She hadn't talked to Jim that much, at all, just like many other people in camp. But she did know that he was good with tools and fixing things, and she thought that was cool, so she liked him.

"He got bit," Daryl said, a bit quieter than he'd been speaking that whole time. He wanted to soften the blow.

"Oh," Blake said as she moved her gaze to the ground. Why was it that all the people she actually liked kept ending up dead? It wasn't fair. Two people that she liked had been bitten, in less than 24 hours.