"I don't sing when I'm told, I sing when I have something to say"
Priscilla Fellowes, once a talented performer before the apocalypse, crosses paths with a group of survivors. With her unique skills and resilience, she becomes an invaluable ally to...
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Priscilla hummed along to "Hurt" by Johnny Cash as she browsed through the records. She caught Daryl tensing up, his eyes darting to the window, but she dismissed it as his usual demeanor.
Suddenly, he bolted toward her, gripping her wrist firmly and pulling her swiftly behind a nearby wall. Her heart skipped a beat, realizing something urgent must be happening.
She heard the snarls and groans of passing walkers, her throat tightening as their shuffling feet drew nearer to where they stood. "It's a herd," Daryl whispered into her ear, his voice barely audible.
Priscilla glanced at Daryl, who stood steadfast against the wall beside her. He nodded solemnly, and she managed a small smile in return, trying to convey reassurance despite the tense situation.
He gestured towards the open door across the way, and she nodded in understanding. Moving cautiously, she approached the door with deliberate steps.
Peeking out, Priscilla spotted two walkers inside the shop. Though they could dispatch them quietly, the risk of attracting more undead by making noise weighed heavily on her mind.
She knelt down, crawling below the shelves packed with records, with Daryl following suit close behind.
Peeking out, she noticed the walkers' attention was diverted elsewhere, prompting her to dart from one shelf to the next.
Daryl joined her, his hand reassuringly on her back as they cautiously approached the room. He entered first to ensure it was safe, then nodded at her to follow suit. She moved quickly into the room after him.
The room was cramped, shelves cluttered with records, some strewn across the floor. As Priscilla cautiously entered, Daryl swiftly pulled her in, his urgency palpable with a nearby walker approaching.
Pressed against the wall, Daryl's arms braced on either side of her, their faces mere inches apart. He kept his focus on the door, unaware of their close proximity. It was only when his gaze dropped to meet hers that he realized how near they were, their breaths mingling in the tense silence.
Their eyes locked, a charged moment hanging between them, both uncertain of what to say or do next.
"Wait 'til they clear out," Daryl murmured in a low whisper, his voice hoarse and tense, his eyes still locked onto hers without wavering.
She nodded slowly in agreement, unwilling to break the gaze, and he mirrored her resolve.
It felt like an eternity standing close together in the cramped room, their eyes locked until Daryl finally glanced away, cautiously peering through the door, scanning for any sign of the walkers.
