OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
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[ xxxi. her last love ]
july 1st, 2012
➸➸➸
ASTRID LANCASTER RIPPED YET another ragged strip from her own tattered shirt, her reddened fingertips dotting along her blazing skin. She tried desperately to pay no mind to the pain as she cinched the makeshift bandage tighter around her waist. Though the bleeding had stopped during their trek back into the city, she refused to gamble with infection in such a wasteland.
Since the catastrophic fall, Daryl had been practically dragging Astrid through the streets, even as she strived not to be a useless burden for him. Together, they had managed to make their way back into the heart of downtown. They had kept a good pace, but now, Astrid's strength waned, and she needed to take a breath before her body gave way and stayed down.
For a while now, she had been staring at her boots, utterly oblivious to Daryl's presence until his figure eventually loomed before her. Feebly, she lifted her head, her gaze meeting his as he extended his canteen in her direction. "Here," He offered.
Dried blood had trickled down his face from the fresh split in his brow. Astrid hesitated for a moment, for in that instance, Daryl's wounds appeared more severe than hers. Pushing the canteen aside, she attempted to brush off his concern with a faint shake of her head. "I'm fine," She whispered.
The canteen returned, more insistent this time. "Prove it," Daryl challenged.
With an eye roll, Astrid relented. As she took a long gulp, a sharp, stabbing sensation in her side splintered her effort, prompting her free hand to instinctively dart towards her injury again. Daryl's narrowed eyes did not miss her reaction, even as she handed back the canteen. "Don't worry, I've dealt with worse," She attempted to reassure him. "Besides, the bleeding has stopped."
"Don't matter. You ain't doin' good." Daryl sighed, as if disappointed in himself. "Damn, that was stupid," He muttered.
Nonchalantly, Astrid shrugged. "Well, we made good time coming down," She quipped, eliciting a scoff from Daryl as he settled beside her. The subtle brush of his arm against hers set her skin ablaze all over again—but in a different way—and she bit back the urge to react. There was nothing she could say, anyway. Nothing had changed between them. "We're just three blocks away from Grady," She eventually noted, steering the conversation toward a more pressing matter.
"We still need to find a place nearby, scope it out, see what we can see first," Daryl replied before taking another sip of water.
Astrid pursed her lips. "Do you really think we're going to find out all that we need to know about these people just by watching them?"
Daryl nodded. "It's a good place to start," He insisted. "Better than chargin' in, guns blazin', yeah? Come on."
He rose easily to his feet, while Astrid struggled to regain her footing, her movements slow and unsteady. Her outstretched hand reached for her bag, but Daryl quickly side-stepped in front of her, shouldering the weight himself, leaving her with the sole task of maintaining her own balance. She could not dispute his logic, yet it did not make her feel any better to watch him bear their gear alone while she carried nothing.
