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THANKFULLY FOR THE GROUP, they had been fortunate enough to only receive the tiniest of rain showers over the camp which seemed to stop just as quickly as it had began, allowing them to swiftly dry right back up from the sun's heat. Damp clothes however was of little issue for them as they were all too trapped in their own heads, worried for the ones still stuck in the city.
For all any of them knew, the group in the city had been successfully surrounded. For all they knew, they were being feasted upon in that very moment, flesh tearing from bone as their screams for help grew weaker and weaker as they left their dying lips. It took everything for the group to not complain about the lack of support they could offer. Many were understandably pissed off at the way their loved ones were seemingly just abandoned, even if they did understand Shane's reasonings.
They all just continued with their duties, happy for the distraction.
Lori, who sat just behind her son, a pair of scissors in hand, sighed as Carl moved about yet again. "Baby, the more you fidget, the longer it takes. So don't, okay?"
"I'm trying." Carl groaned though he twitched about yet again, scratching at his neck that itched with each little trimmed hair that fell upon his skin.
His mom returned her gaze to the back of his head. "Well, try harder."
Shane glanced away from the gun he sat cleaning for a moment to stare over at the mother and son with a growing grin. "If you think this is bad, wait till you start shaving." He quipped with a chuckle. "That's stings. That day comes, you'll be wishing for one of your mama's haircuts."
Carl's eyes rolled as he sulked. "I'll believe that when I see it."
The Walsh man eyed him thoughtfully for a second, then took a deep breath and uttered, "Tell you what...you just get through this with some manly dignity and tomorrow I'll teach you something special. I will teach you how to catch frogs."
The mention of catching frogs piqued Marie's interest whose gaze tore from the eighty-seventh page of her most recent fantasy book Glenn had gotten her in a hurry. "Can I come?" She eagerly inquired of her dad, hoping he'd let her tag along.
Shane's already wide grin grew even wider at his daughter's enthusiasm. "Course you can. More the merrier, sweetheart."
"I've caught a frog before." Carl suddenly muttered.
"I said frogs...plural." Shane corrected. While shifting the weapon about to lay across his lap, he continued to speak. "And it is an art, my friend, it is not to be taken lightly. There are ways and means. Few people know about it."
