Chapter Two: New Faces
{Carol's POV}
I knew I had nothing-the small house I had found was my only shelter, but I still had to scavenge for food, like a sickly, desperate raccoon. I had moved miles away from where Ed and Sophia had been buried, my state of mental health couldn't take the constant reminder of my family's death-even if my husband was abusive, my daughter was buried there. There was one thing that I had-an advantage and a risk. Walking along the countryside, there was an abandoned farm, which wasn't completely abandoned, actually. There was a horse left there-still in somewhat good shape. She had seemed eager to see a human-someone who wouldn't hurt her, someone alive. When I walked up she reared and jumped over the fence, running over to me. I often thought about why she didn't jump over the fence and run when all of this started. Maybe she knew it wasn't safe? Whatever the reason, I was glad she was there. I tacked her up and we took off, and at that moment I was thankful for those summers at the farm by my parent's house, where I worked and in return the owners taught me how to ride and jump. That was a week ago. Now we walked through a field, her shoulders dark from a light layer of sweat. My legs ached from riding her for a few days straight, the base of my back sore and my feet hot and throbbing; it wasn't helpful having an empty stomach, either.
I heard footsteps and voices from a short distance away, and looked over, seeing two men and a kid. "Whoa..easy, Girl." I said calmly when she whinnied, kicking at the ground. As the figures approached she reared up, and I held on with some difficulty; at that moment I felt how tired and exhausted I was, felt it deep in my bruised and weary bones. "Whoa, whoa!" She calmed down and snorted, as if she was frustrated with me. I muttered, "You definitely have a personality, Girl."
One of the men walked up to me cautiously, aware that my horse was in high-spirits. I swung my leg over her back, dismounting and held onto her reins. Turning to look at the new faces, one of the men in particular caught my eye, but I hid my glance with an ease that only came with years of hiding expressions and glances towards others, thanks to my late husband, just in case these people were dangerous.
"We're not looking for any trouble.." The other man said. He had curly dark hair and facial hair, his shirt was stained and dark from sweat, his left arm brandishing a watch-which amused me for some odd reason. "I'm Rick. The man to my left is Daryl, and this is my boy, Carl. He's actually the one who spotted you."
I gave a slight smile, relieved to see people for the first time in weeks. "Is it just you three?" The tone of my voice surprised me, the roughness and scratchiness; I guess that's what happens when you don't talk to people for a long time.
The man-Daryl, if I recall correctly-shook his head. "No. We have a group, at a neighborhood."
"It's not much. Five women, six other men, two other children. Two of the women are pregnant-but we're still watching them carefully." Carl said.
"That's not much?" I laughed weakly, my breath quiet but rapidly consistent. "That sounds amazing. It's been just Lady and I for so long. I've seen so much bullshit, so much death, I don't know how I'm still here, to be perfectly honest with y'all." They watched me carefully and I leaned against Lady's shoulder, feeling her shift closer to me, holding me up.
I couldn't remember exactly what happened. Suddenly my vision was black, and the ground was under me. I heard voices and Lady whinny. But I do remember the last thing I saw, just before I blacked out. Blue eyes. Blue, calm, yet guarded eyes.
