Sneaky

Chapter 67

Another ten minutes of "conversation" and I was fallin' asleep on my feet. My eyes betrayed me a while ago, and have been letting my ears do all work since.

In the end, Rick finally declared we weren't gonna do anything about it today.

Hallelujah

The kid's gonna be off his feet for at least a week, according to Hershel.

Rick's plan is to let him heal up, then take him out onto the road far from the farm, give him a canteen, and send him on his way.

I think it's a solid plan, though I may not be in my right mind at the moment so I'm reserving judgement.

Shane's been angry about us killing a bunch of their guys & taking one of them hostage but the Hell were we supposed to do?

I guarantee that if he had there, he would have done much worse. Damn hypocrite.

Rick brought up a valid point in response though, I gotta give him props for that. Those guys left Randall for dead. As sad as it is, nobody is looking for this kid.

I understand why everyone is hesitant. Why they're concerned; it's wise caution. I myself am indecisive about the kid.

But the fact remains, he is on his own now.

His group likely thinks he's dead, he doesn't know where he is, or who he's being held by. He's severely injured, and even unconscious right now. He couldn't run even he wanted to.

Plus why would he run from the people who just saved his life —and didn't leave him to be eaten alive when his own group— the people he trusted, left him to the walkers?

Pegged to a fence like a cocktail party snack.

Randall is completely at our mercy, and I don't know why no one's acknowledging that. I can't be the only person here who sees that, can I?

Rick— or Hershel, should have at least should have had similar thoughts, right?

"'ey" Daryl bumped me with his elbow to get my eyes open and jerked his head over his shoulder.

I licked my lips, finally mustering myself to carry my own weight again, and followed him out as the group began to disperse.

I was stumbling over my own boots every so often, and didn't even notice I was on autopilot. I probably look like a walker right now, and doesn't that just make my skin crawl.

Daryl stopped and I almost walked into him.

"Go sleep." He pointed, to what I now realize is my tent.

I nodded without a second thought and I was there. Dropping my gear the second I practically tripped inside and collapsed on my sleeping bag.

-

3rd Person POV

Eve was out like a light the second she was on the ground. With her skin against the clean fabric, the stark contrast of filth was hard to miss.

She didn't look that dirty when she was walking around, or even leaning on Daryl earlier, but it was blatantly obvious now.

Her skin is several shades darker in patches all over her face. A grimy glisten to her skin, dark tangled hair sprinkled with little bits of what looks like gravel webbed over & sticking to her neck, flakes of crusted blood all over her skin; especially her right hand knuckles.

Daryl went on his way back out to his campsite before someone called out to him from the porch.

He turned and spied Hershel coming down the steps with something in his hand. Something he recognized in an instant, Eve's knife.