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The Hunter Within

Claimed

Sophie dragged her blade down the wall that she leant up against repetitively, already having picked through the paint and now working tirelessly on the drywall. Her eyes were on the floor before her, hearing concentrated on the streets outside. Before her, Merle had perched himself up against the windowsill, peering out of the opening in the curtain at the dead that had moved into town overnight. All around her, the walls seemed to be closing in, mocking her and their unmoving state. She needed to be on the road, in the forest, she needed to be leaving trails for Daryl to follow, for anyone who was looking.
“Can we go yet?”
“Soon.”
“Not soon enough,” she mumbled under her breath, eyes going to watch the way her knife travelled down the worn path. If Daryl were here, he would tell her to stop, that it was making her blade blunt. Sophie couldn’t bring herself to care, though, it was the only thing that kept her from going insane.
“You got everything?”
Sophie rolled her eyes at the question, it felt silly, considering that everything now only consisted of the clothes on her back, her limited weapons and a dusty backpack. Still, she nodded when he turned to her with an expectant gaze, pulling at the strap of her shouldered bag. Merle glanced back out the gap in the curtains once more as Sophie abandoned the wall to sheath her knife, standing up onto a single leg. The edges of her calf wound were a dark red, the cut already healed enough overnight to allow her to almost support her weight evenly. The rest of her body ached, most of her left side entirely covered in bruises from where she had hit the wall behind her the day before.
Her head also ached unforgivingly, and in the early hours of that morning, Sophie had stirred to run a hand through her knotted hair to find that the bottom of her skull was caked in blood. Just another scar, she had almost laughed at the wound. Despite Daryl’s annoyance, Sophie’s injury prone nature had been a running joke at the prison, the supply team often placing bets of whether or not she would need stitches by the end of the run. It wasn’t that she was clumsy; it was just that she got hurt a lot, despite her best intentions. Her bruise littered and bloody frame had taken it to a brand new level, passed being shot and passed slicing her own hand open. She could only hope that she would be at least visually healed by the time they caught up with the others. Especially Daryl, but that was more for his sake more than her own.
“We can take them,” Sophie whispered, peering out the other side of the curtain, taking in the small swarm for the first time since the sun had risen.
“Not riskin’ it.” Merle didn’t even bother to look at her as she sighed, sliding down the front wall impatiently. Her eyes went to her booted feet, to the ground below it. The once polished wooden floorboards were too hard. She needed to feel the soft forest floor beneath her weight. She needed to be doing something, anything else.
Settling into herself, Sophie cast her eyes across the previously tidy sitting area. One sofa was thrust up against the door, the other now home to pillows and blankets. Neither of them had slept in the beds last night, one taking the sofa while the other stood guard against the darkness. Cans of food sat amongst the old magazines that Sophie couldn’t bring herself to pick up on the coffee table, draws turned inside out and bloody clothes strewn across the floor. Sophie’s eyes went to her own, resting on the rip up the side of her jeans.
“Gettin’ close to midday, hopefully the bastards will let up soon.” Merle groaned and as Sophie turned to glance up at him, her eyes caught on the back pocket of her jeans, on the white tag that threatened to fall from it.
Forgetting what Merle had even said, Sophie discarded her staff and crawled along the dusty ground, reaching out to clutch at it with careful hands, holding her breath as she turned over the crimson stained photo that she had almost left behind. Moving back against the wall, she held it in her hands gently, as if any rough movement would crumble it completely. Taking a moment to study Daryl’s off guard expression, a sense of despair welled in the bottom of her throat, working at slowly suffocating her. He has to be alive, Sophie worked at convincing herself, he doesn’t feel gone, but then again, none of them ever did.
“Look.” Sophie’s voice cracked as she extended her hand, watching with a soft smile as Merle took the small Polaroid from her careful grasp and for a rough man, his hands seemed to be just as tender. She watched the older Dixon study the photo for a moment, his eyes glued to his brothers face and Sophie couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, about what memory had come to mind.
Merle handed the photo back without another word, his too familiar eyes lingering on hers for a moment as he turned back to the curtains. Sophie watched him curiously, not missing the way he bit down on his lip. “It’s okay to be sad, you know, even if you do believe you were given extra time.”
“Ain’t no use both of us being sad.” Merle huffed, not looking at her. “Nothing’s gonna get done then.”
“I’m not sad,” Sophie whispered, looking back down at the photo. She felt scared, she felt impatient, she felt hopeful, and above all, sore, but she didn’t feel sad. “I believe that he’s still out there, looking for us right now, what do I have to be sad about? You’re the one that think’s that he is gone.”
The man across from her didn’t speak, forcing them into that all too familiar Dixon silence. This time, however, Sophie welcomed it more than ever. Closing her eyes, she could almost pretend that Daryl was right beside her, his warm skin brushing against her leg, the smell of his cigarettes filling the air. Sophie had never been a smoker, only ever once taking a puff, but she found that over the time she had come to know Daryl, she had become addicted to the smell. Or perhaps that was just him. Sighing to herself, Sophie forced her eyes open, forced him from mind and turned to her dirty fingernails for a distraction.
“You’re very different, you and my brother.” Merle mused barely a moment later, earning himself a questioning glance. She knew they were different, he had told her countless times over the last year or so. “But, you’re kinda the same. I don’t know if you picked it up from him, or you’ve just always done it, but the nail thing. He’s done that his entire life, when he’s thinkin’, locked away in his own mind. An’ the eye roll thing you do, well, he definitely didn’t do that before.”
Sophie shrugged indifferently, dropping her grubby hands into her lap. “We spend a lot of time together, it was bound to happen.”
“Not jus’ that.” He frowned, glancing at her before turning back to the window. “It’s like you’re almost the same person. That’s why I ain’t sad. ‘Cause it doesn’t feel like he is really gone anywhere, not with you here.”
Hesitating at the older man’s words, Sophie’s gaze snapped to his seemingly unaffected expression. Only her previous experience with Daryl told her that she would find his feeling buried within the blue of his eyes. In them, Sophie could see the conflict that battled within his mind, in the way they darted around the street that she couldn’t see, refusing to rest on anything. Leaving Merle’s words make way to silence, Sophie looked back to the picture she held in careful fingers, taking a moment to study the face that had become more familiar than her own. Where are you?
“What was he like?” Sophie spoke softer than she intended, her eyes still on the photo, on the lifeline. Her eyes darted to Merle as he threw her a questioning glance from his position next to the windowsill. “Growing up?”
“You ever have a little brother? Or sister?” Merle pried, changing the course of the conversation, dodging the question for whatever reason.
“No.” Sophie smiled softly, a familiar, aged sadness filling her bones as she lifted herself up enough to pocket the bloodstained photo into her new jeans for safe keeping. “I had an older brother, though, a long time ago now. Josh.”
“It’s different, bein’ the older one.” Merle frowned, leaning up against the wall beside the window, eyes still on the outside world, refusing to properly look at her. “Its like they are yours to look after, you know? This tiny little person that is more like you than anyone else in the world. Before them, it was just you against the world.”
“He always said shit like that.” Sophie laughed, pressing her lips together in an attempt to silence herself, not wanting to give away their hiding spot. “He used to be my favourite person in the entire world. This big version of me who just knew everything, every question had an answer. He was who I always wanted to be, until he wasn’t anymore.”
Merle seemed to consider the notion, silence falling over them for a long moment. “Who’s your favourite now?”
Your brother.”
“That’s another thing you both have in common…” Merle’s rough voice was slow, his words deliberate enough to capture Sophie’s full attention, her eyes snapping to his, finding that he met her gaze ever so briefly. “Ain’t no doubt in my mind that you were his.”
Sophie chewed at her lip almost anxiously, her heart beating too loud in her chest as she looked back to her fingernails for a distraction. She needed to tell someone, someone needed to know. Just in case. “I love him.”
“I know.”
Tears pricked at her eyes, her mind reeling at the lack of hesitation in the older brother’s response. “What if he never knows that?”
“Trust me, he knew,” Merle answered after a long moment, his tone once again almost too gentle to be recognisable. “My baby brother, he had this huge heart on him, but he was never allowed to feel growin’ up. Me and Pa made sure of that. Thought it would make him more of a man… But he’s more of a man than our father ever was, then ole’ Merle ever will be.” The older Dixon looked over at her once more, damp eyes lingering on her for a little longer than usual, long enough for Sophie to read the sincerity there. “He loved you, he just didn’t know it. You can’t blame him for that.”
Silence consumed the entire house as they sat, as they waited, threatening to drown Sophie in thoughts of Daryl. She welcomed it, welcomed the memory of his ocean eyes. He was like an angry sea, a storm of a man hiding behind the blue, deeper than she would ever know. He washed over her in waves, enough to soothe her aching heart of a fleeting moment. “So, what was he like? Growing up?”
To her surprise, Merle laughed, a soft, fond chuckle slipping through his lips. “I remember when he started school. He was so excited that he slept in his new shoes that Ma had bought specially. They were the kinda ones that lit up when he walked. I remember taking him to the bus and he smiled so proudly. He was so short and weedy, with his brand new bag and brown mop hair. He had these big, expectin’ eyes.” The older Dixon paused, lost in a memory that Sophie would never be able to see. “He came home that afternoon with scraped hands and wet eyes. The other kids hadn’t been looking at his new shoes, or his bag… They were lookin’ at the holes in his shirt, in his socks. He ditched the shoes in a drain along with the bag and told me that he didn’t deserve it, that we ain’t nothing but white trash. Our Pa beat him for losing his stuff and he never said another word ‘bout it.”
“That’s terrible...”
“Growin’ up, Daryl was the kind of kid, teenager, man, who suffered in silence ‘cause he was too worried about what me, what our father, and everyone else thought of him.” Merle paused, peeling back the curtain a little more to peer down the street a little more. “With you an’ the others, he wasn’t scared no more. You all knew the real Daryl better than me, better than I ever did. He locked himself away behind his walls until you came and knocked them down... An’ I say that ‘cause I know there ain't no way he came out willingly.”
This time, it was Sophie that giggled fondly at her own memories, shaking her head too knowingly. She wasn’t given any time to dwell on the fight Daryl had put up in the early days of the outbreak, the shift in his older brother's weight, a little closer to the door was enough to tell her that it was time to move, to concentrate. Taking in a steadying, deep breath, Sophie pulled herself up to stand alongside him, taking the hand that he offered her up with. Sparing each other little more than a fleeting glance, a sharp nod shared between the too, Merle worked at pushing the sofa away from where it worked to bar the front door from intruders, both dead or alive.
Sophie’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright, late morning sun that filtered into the still room as Merle pulled the door open carefully. Before them, the world seemed quiet enough, the overgrown streets almost completely abandoned by the dead that roamed it earlier. She relaxed a little as she stepped out onto the front porch behind Merle, taking her eyes off the small gathering of rotter’s down the street long enough to shut the door behind them. Sophie’s eyes lingered on the frame for a moment before turning to follow her partner down the steps, her body almost shying away from the harsh sunlight.
Her feet, however, welcomed it. They welcomed movement, and the thought of having the forest floor beneath her once more. That’s where he will be, she told herself, a soft smile creeping onto her lips as they paused at the end of the drive, turning back the way they had come, that’s where he belongs. A sense of despair crept in, consuming the hope and settling in her joints at the realization of what today would hold. They were going back to the prison, but not back to familiar faces and the promise of safety. They were going back to crumbled walls and cracked pavement. To half consumed bodies and broken fences.
It wasn’t until then that the reality of the situation came crashing down on Sophie, the weight of yesterday coming to rest fully on her shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat, legs turning into jelly as Merle’s words seemed to take advantage of her moment of weakness, of her fear. What if he is right? An old darkness pressed, feeding off her doubts, what if they really are all gone? In that moment, Sophie wasn’t sure if she could handle going back to the prison, forced to confront the bodies she had hurried passed without thought the day before. To say that she was terrified was an understatement. It would all start with Hershel, before they even crossed the fences. He would be there, his body in two separate pieces. Sophie didn’t know what, or who she would find next, and that scared her absolutely shitless.
Forgetting herself, Sophie stopped to lean up against the back of a dusty, long forgotten about hatchback, needing to catch her breath. She gripped at her staff as if it were keeping her afloat, as if it were the only thing keeping her from drowning in her own fears, in her own darkness. Merle seemed to notice immediately, despite the almost silent nature of her hesitation. The older man paused mid-step, eyes brushing over her before scanning the world around them. He didn’t ask any questions, and Sophie found herself thankful, unsure if she even had the answers for them. She didn’t even know if she could tell him what was wrong.
What is wrong? She loosened a hand from where it clenched at the wooden length of her staff to rub at her face. They’re alive. They have to be alive and you have to be okay. Her eyes darted to Merle as he shifted his weight almost uncomfortably, the world around her seemed to be closing in, her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the once familiar signs of a panic attack. You have to concentrate, she spat with more force, you have to find the others. You have to find Daryl. Dropping her hand from her face, Sophie gripped at the warm metal of the cars rusted exterior, working desperately at piecing herself back together. Everything is going to be okay, it has to be okay.
Taking in a deep breath, Sophie lifted her head to nod at Merle with a shaky head, the older man instantly relaxing at the notion. The fresh air washed over her body, cleansing her aching muscles of any previous doubts as she stood on stronger legs. Everything is going to be okay, not because it had to be, just because it would be. Inhaling deeply once more, Sophie touched at the grimy glass of the hatchback, supporting her weight with a single hand. A soft cry fell from her lips, her hand from the glass, as a figure threw itself up against the other side in a manner that would not have worried her if she wasn’t so close to falling apart.
Merle stiffened for a moment, stepping closer before a gruff chuckle escaped his lips, their eyes meeting. Sophie’s heart thumped against her chest loudly as the shock wore off, letting herself laugh at her own expense, relief filling her being. It only lasted a moment, a forceful hand wrapping around her covered ankle, taking her weak legs out from under her. Supporting herself, she managed to save her already wounded head from connecting with the ground below, her aching shoulders taking the impact. Sophie kicked against the previously hidden rotter, meeting its dead eyes from where it lay under the car, skin melted onto the drive. Her first kick snapped the other, brittle arm that the dead reached out for her with, the second shook its grip free and the third found her right boot nestled within brain and blood, shards of bone littering the hot cement below.
The world around them fell silent just as quickly as it had been consumed by hungry moans, Sophie throwing Merle an almost apologetic look as she worked at straightening herself up, the older man hovering above her with wide eyes. Neither of them said anything as Sophie brushed herself off, wincing as she rolled her wrists during an overall body check, the pain of impact lingering there for a moment. Neither of the pair moved as Sophie worked at settling herself, heart still slamming against her chest, her breath still labored. Feel that, she told herself, eyes going down to the blood that pooled below the car, you’re alive.
She was alive and for now, that’s all that mattered. She had lost people, been lost, before and she would get through this. Whatever she found at the prison didn’t have to be okay, because she would be. They would find supplies, get the bike and they could do this right. They would find Daryl and everyone else. For now, Sophie had to believe that, she couldn’t afford not too. Filled with a sense of newfound hope, she looked back up to Merle, only to find that he was staring over her shoulder, eyes guarded.
Holding her breath, Sophie turned slowly, eyes going to the dead that shuffled towards them unknowingly, or so it seemed. The chorus of moans were more idle rather than desperate, curious to the noise Sophie had made rather than hunting. It wouldn’t be like that for long, they were bound to see them soon enough. Meeting eyes for a quick moment, Sophie collected her staff from where it lay on the ground and pushed passed Merle on light feet, leaving him to follow suit. They moved down the previously empty street, Sophie cursing herself under her breath as they ducked passed abandoned cars and still expecting garbage bins. The hungry moans became exactly that as they hurried in the other direction, catching the movement, no matter how subtle the pair tried to be.
“Up ahead.” Merle hissed from a pace behind as the swaying bodies caught Sophie’s own eyes, the much smaller herd looming ahead.
Sophie sighed almost impatiently, scanning the houses ahead for a side street, an alley, an open back gate, anything. “Seen.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Working on it.”
“Work quicker.”
Glancing back at the older man, Sophie raised an eyebrow at his almost teasing gaze, as if they weren’t very close to becoming lunch for the soon to conjoin herd that threatened them on both sides. “You got any ideas?”
“Can you see the bike path?” Merle huffed, nodding towards the houses on their left when Sophie turned back to look at him briefly, her eyes going to the path that travelled between the gardens, looking tightly. “Probably our best bet.”
“It’s the wrong way.”
“We’ll loop around.”
“We’re losing light.”
“Just do it.”
Taking in a deep breath, boots thumping less than silently against the gravel road, Sophie changed course, sinking lower into herself as she neared the gardens, hoping to slip out of view. The pair ducked and weaved through the gardens, over waterless sprinkles and discarded toys, away from the street. Sophie’s torn calf begged her to stop, to rest, but she fought against it, refusing to let herself put them at risk any more than she had already had so soon into their trip. We’ll never get to the prison at this stage, she mused, glancing over her shoulder to find that they were still alone.
Veering down the bike path, Sophie concentrated on keeping her breathing even, her steps long. You cover more ground that way, Daryl had told her during the first winter as they hid from a much bigger herd, her breathing labored while his was steady, you can run much longer. The prison had made her strong, mixing good food with constant exercise, while the road had only offered canned meals and constant movement. Her legs were sturdier, carrying her straighter, less prone to exhaustion. Merle, on the other hand, had not been able to store the same muscle that prison meals had allowed, his scavenged food only keeping him strong enough, and it showed.
“Stop here,” Merle instructed, slipping up against the sidewall of one of the large, looming houses they passed in the next street over. Beside them, the gate to the backyard offered them protection to their left, their way out in the form of the bike path that rested on the other side of the waist-high hedge and white picket fence.
Goosebumps decorated the exposed skin of Sophie’s arms as she moved away from the wall cautiously, speaking under her breath, she reached out to touch at the unlatched gate ever so lightly. “I don’t think we’re alone.”
Pushing against the wood with a single hand, the gate hung loosely for a moment before slamming back towards her. Sophie dove out of the way, the gate narrowly missing her to collide with Merle’s un-expecting frame, crushing him beneath the unmoving house and heavy gate, an exasperated curse slipping from his lips as the moans screamed out through the opening. Sophie shuffled backwards, eyes on the dead as her hands searched blindly for her discarded staff. The rotter was unusual, in the sense that its skin had yet to begin to decay, the only wound being the angry red marks that ringed its neck.
It dove forward at her with more speed that Sophie had grown accustomed too, another much more lively than those they had been running from moving towards the fence at the noise that ensured. Working at keeping herself from calling out, Sophie struggled under the rotter, eyes raking over Merle’s daze figure as one of her hands found their place where others had previously resided, the other searching for her knife.
Her eyes darted between the two rotters’s frantically, each quick movement taking her by surprise. They’re fresh; she braced herself as it pushed against her hold desperately, noting the clean nature of their faces, completely unfed and hungry. Abandoning the struggle for her knife, Sophie worked at pulling her knees close to her chest, soles of her boots pressed against the large man’s abdomen. Sucking in a deep breath and adjusting her feet, Sophie readied herself, glancing back over her head briefly to locate her staff. The rotter disappeared moments later, her legs still braced and breath held deep within her chest.
Without pausing, Sophie spun, reaching out to grab at her staff. Her hand touched at the wood at the second lunged for her keenly. Spinning back, Sophie forced herself into a seated position, the bladed end of her staff stretched out before her, skewering the second rotter through the stomach. Hungry hands reached out for her, blood running down the wooden length of her weapon to cover her hands as she freed one to grab at her knife, eyes going to the struggle between a half dazed Merle and first walker before driving the blade up through the second’s chin, twisting it as she buried it within its brain.
With hurried breath, Sophie shoved the now limp body away from her, the muscles in her arm shaking under the dead weight. Her attention instantly went to Merle, rushing forward without a second thought to force her bloody blade through the less bony nature of the back of the neck rather than the still hard bone of the first walkers skull, chest heaving as she stayed where she was, unmoving.
“No.” Sophie breathed, taking in the blood beneath her, all a bright, crimson red that usually came from the living. With weak legs, she stood, helping Merle up from under the body, fear consuming her entire being as she found the source etched into the skin of Merle’s good forearm. Offering him a hand up, Sophie scanned the world around them anxiously before turning back to the man, shooting him a silent, hopeful glance.
“I’m okay.” He huffed, uncovering the wound somewhat carefully, as if he was scared to see. Sophie was scared too, she wasn’t about to deny that. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Just a scratch?” She repeated questioningly, grabbing at the older man’s only good arm to investigate more thoroughly, taking in the deep scrapes with a mixed sense of relief and fear. Fear, because she didn’t know what came next. Her mind was still reeling, sifting through possibilities as an old, familiar sense of irritation made itself at home under her skin, one that Daryl had found himself a victim of more times that either of them could have counted. “What the fuck was that?”
“What was that?” Merle scoffed, pulling his arm from her grip roughly. “You know what that was, you know what would’ve happened otherwise, so just thank me for it.”
Sophie paused at the older man’s words, eyes dropping to the bodies that lay before them, taking her lip between her teeth as she considered his words. He’s right, something worked at convincing her, just let him be right. She sighed deeply, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes, not able to keep the almost sulking tone at bay. “Thank you.”
“Ain’t so hard.”
“Let me look at it.” Sophie raised an eyebrow, ignoring Merle’s mumbled comment. He bore down on her for a moment, eyes somewhat calculating before handing himself over for inspection. Poking at the wounds earn’t her a flinch and a huffed curse, the older man’s entire body tensing. The scrapes weren’t deep enough for stitches and she could only hope that it wouldn’t become infected, in any sense of the word. “Thank God. Thought I was going to have to spoon feed you for the rest of my life.”
With his wounded arm, Merle shoved her shoulder somewhat gently, a smirk playing on his lips as they both turned silently to collect any scattered belongings. Sophie’s backpack lay against the less than modest house, while her staff still impaled the second of the rotters. Gritting her teeth, she worked at pulling the wood from where it had made itself at home in the relaxed muscle of the dead’s torso, a harder task than burying it there in the first place. As the wood slipped through the body, Sophie took in the person’s face with a sense of sadness. Person, because that’s what it was, what it seemed.
The contours of its skin remained almost untouched – save for the marks that Sophie had left – to the point that it was almost possible for her to forget that it had only been moments ago that the figure moaned desperately for her flesh. Her eyes brushed over the pale nature of the man’s complexion, over the full head of brown hair and felt her previous doubts making an attempt on her resolve once more. Stepping away, it almost could pass as Rick, an unfamiliar face suddenly too recognizable for her likings.
“You good?” Sophie spoke before she ripped her eyes away from the figure, gaze brushing over its friend without pausing. Raising an eyebrow, she waited for Merle to look up from where he worked at covering his wounds, nodding firmly.
Running her eyes over his bloody arm, Sophie had no choice but to believe him, not if she wanted to make it to the prison that day. Looking up at the sky, she knew that they would have to move quickly to make it there by nightfall. Sighing impatiently at the thought of another lost night, she resided to the hope of finding any of the guard towers accessible and sturdy enough to spend the night it. She didn’t know what to expect in terms of the dead, only that they had swarmed the fences with enough numbers for Sophie to hope that they would find security in the form of one of the lower towers.
A sense of excitement began to settle in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what the night at the prison might lead too. Not wanting to think about what else they might find there, Sophie left herself miss the others in the most innocent, naïve form possible. She missed Daryl and his cheeky smirk, she missed Rick and his knowing gaze, Michonne and her whispered jokes, Maggie and her infectious smile, Judith and her childish giggle, the way that Carl bounced her on his knee. She missed the way Glenn would pat her on the back when she said something silly, or how Carol would look at her like her mother once had. She missed everyone with everything she had, with her entire heart.
Glancing back over her shoulder, Sophie made sure that Merle was still close by as they moved back down the main street with care. Her eyes lingered on the man’s distracted gaze, chewing on her lip as she considered what she might have missed about him if things had turned out differently. Brutal honesty, Sophie decided, turning back to the road before them, content with her answer. He was different to his younger brother in that respect. While Daryl often kept his unfavourable opinions to himself, or shared only between the two of them, Merle had no problem telling the others how it was, or how it had to be. That was something that Sophie couldn’t help but respect.
The houses had become less congested, the overgrown lawns bigger, as they neared the edge of the forest. There were no lingering rotters in sight, the town seemingly emptied of the dead that had threatened to swarm them from both sides. Moving a little faster, Sophie wondered if they had turned back the other way when the two different sides collided, taking comfort in the space each step she put between them. Eyes scanning the road ahead, she wondered if they had come from the prison, a stomach full of flesh the reason they had moved so slow, the reason they had been more or less uninterested. Taking in a deep breath, Sophie took a moment to remember those who probably didn’t make it out, those who had been sick, those who had been lost during the fighting, or those that just couldn’t escape.
Experience told Sophie that there was no way that everyone had made it out of there alive yesterday, her hope only strong enough to support those who had resided alongside of her in C block, those she put before anyone else, some of them even before herself. Frowning slightly, Sophie wondered if she was sad that they had lost the others, that she would never see the likes of Allison, or any of the children again. Guilt threatened to consume her as she realised that although she did care, she did feel something, she couldn’t bring herself to feel entirely sad.
It wasn’t that she was heartless, that she didn’t care about those they had bought in enough, it was just that she didn’t have the time, she didn’t have the energy. One day, when they caught up with the others, they would pause for a moment, they would be able to give themselves that, and they would grieve for those that weren’t there. Sophie would make sure of it. They would need that, a moment of humanity amongst all the brutality they had been subjected to the day before.
“Hey!” A rough, unfamiliar voice called out through the silence, loud enough for Sophie to flinch away from the noise, eyes going to Merle questioningly. Her gaze touched on the handgun he pulled slowly from the waistband of his pants, one Sophie didn’t even remember him having. As she turned to face the newcomer slowly, he tilted the magazine ever so slightly, just enough for her to count the ammunition they had left. Two bullets, two shots. “Where you good folk off to in such a hurry?”
Please not be a group, Sophie worked at begging nobody in particular as she faced the cluster of men, eyes raking over the figures that stood to the right-hand side of the road, only one house down from where they were. Six, she concluded, tightening both fists around her staff. The now eight-person strong gathering seemed to fall silent, seconds ticking by as one group waited for the other to say something. Sophie felt hungry eyes brushing over her dirty frame, a different hungry to the rotters, and a much less desirable one.
“Wouldn’t be comin’ any closer,” Merle spoke loudly, his drawl thick as what seemed to be the leading man stepped forward.
“Just wanna talk.” The big, grey-haired man stretched out his empty hands, as if he were unarmed, as if his men didn’t have their guns in their own hands, sights set on Merle. Sophie locked her eyes in on the leader, refusing to acknowledge or respond to the low whistle that seemed to call out to her and her alone, or the claimed that slipped from another’s lips. “Names Joe and these are my men.”
“Ain’t looking for friends.” Merle huffed, shifting his weight towards Sophie in a way that his brother had done countless times, his angry gaze on the man who made the comment. Fear consumed her entire being as she scanned the area, looking for an out. The forest was close, but not close enough to get there without a bullet in her back.
“Shame.” Joe shrugged almost indifferently, a Cheshire cat smile plastered on his face as he took a less than concerned step forward. Why should he be scared, after all, he couldn’t see the pistol hidden behind Merle’s back. Not that the two bullets it held would have done much to scare him, anyway. “We’re lookin’ for some new friends of ours. Wondering if you’ve seen ‘em?”
“Haven’t seen no one all day.”
“We’re looking for a man.” Joe continued anyway, watching with careful eyes as Merle shifted towards Sophie a little more, the other man no more than six feet away. “Had a kid with him, a dark skinned woman. You seen them?”
Yes.
“No.” Merle hissed, his frame tensing as the other men began to move forward slowly, as if they were hunting their prey. Sophie’s mind was still caught up on the mention of Rick, Carl and Michonne, relief filling her aching body. “So we ain’t got no business here.”
“Hang on.” One of the men spoke up, stepping in alongside his leader. It was only then that Sophie met his gaze, goosebumps decorating the contours of her back. “I claimed the girl, Joe, she’s mine.”
“No, no, no.” Merle chuckled, placing himself directly in front of Sophie protectively. Her breathing came in shallow waves as she inched backwards, calculating every movement within the new group. “I’m afraid this little one’s already claimed, fellas.”
The leader, Joe, humoured the thought for a moment, his eyebrows raising in question as he seemed to take a moment to drink Sophie in. “By you?”
“Yes.” Merle hissed, without so much of a second thought.
The man laughed a single, breathy laugh, his eyes coming to rest on Merle. The whole world seemed to slow down around them, moving in at an excruciatingly slow pace as Sophie sunk a little closer to her companion. “Liar.”
“Tell him what we do ‘ta lairs, Joe.”
“Nah.” The bigger man’s gaze flickered from Merle to Sophie and back to the man that had spoken, the man that thought he could claim someone, that had thought Sophie wouldn’t kill him if he laid a hand on her. “How about you boys show him instead.”
No.” The word slipped from Sophie’s lips as the men moved forward in slow motion, eager smirks on their faces. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like she needed to be shown what happened to lairs, she already knew, realisation sitting heavy in the pit of her queezy stomach.
Before her, Merle seemed to sigh with a mixed sense of impatience and his own realisation before he turned to face her, tucking the loaded gun into the waistband of her jeans, his eyes coming to meet hers. “You need to go.”
“No!”
“Here’s your second chance, little sister.” The man spoke knowingly, his too familiar eyes burning with honesty as he forced Sophie away from him, the men closing in all around them, moving in slowly, as if they were stalking their prey. “Look after him for me.”






Notes

I've been wanting to talk about Merle for a while now. Especially when I have people like Sazzles and forgotten mention how this story had made them see him differently. So here it goes... Merle and Sophie were never supposed to get along. I started this story with the idea that they would hate each other, that it would drive a wedge between her and Daryl. Right up until the chapter Merle shot her. After that, they took control. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get that to work. I got so angry, blaming poor writing skills, but now, I realise that it comes from the understanding I have of Sophie and how she works. She has taken her own form, her views are different than mine, and I'm glad that they are. I love that Sophie has had a positive effect on both of the Dixon brothers, and that despite their best efforts, she had wiggled her way into their hearts and family. I loved that she worked passed being shot and captured by this man because she knew how important he was to Daryl. I love that by doing this, she gave him a chance to be a peace with both his past and present, which is a theme that will follow us into the next update.

Big thanks to forgotten, cally, Thanya and Kella13 for taking the time to comment. Also thanks to Sazzles who messaged me her spot on thoughts of the last two chapters, was amazing to read. Thanks to those who have read and subscribed. I hope to hear from more of you soon. Big love x

Comments

Who's here on 2020 for a re-read? :D

Tee- Tee-
4/17/20

@QueenUchi

New readers make my heart sing, especially when they start this journey ten months after I ended it (abit abruptly but we won’t get into that because it’ll make me sad again).

Thank you you so much for leaving a comment. Nothing is more motivating for the unmotivated than a little bit of love. Whenever I get a comment from someone new all I find myself wanting to sit down and grill them with a million different questions.

If youre chasing updates about any eventual stories I write, please follow me on instagram @ sophyl_

Thanks a million again!! xx

aryaaa aryaaa
11/28/18

thank you @sanders151 for recomending me this fanfic

Your fanfic has been in the center of my life for the whole month November. Let me just tell you that im in love with everything about this story. Im even at loss of words about how amazing this journey has been.

There have been moments when i actually had to get up and calm down from all the feelings may they be joy sadness or just extreme suffering. Ive been cheering, i've been crying to the point of ugly sobbing, ive been screaming while reading this all.

I dont even know how to tell you how i feel about this fanfic there arent any words for it so ima just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH about it cause thats the closets that i can think off "insert all the feelings i cant express here"

I am just so thank full for all your time and effort and everything youve put into this story. Cause WOW youre an amazing writer and when you do make your original story please do know that I WOULD LOVE TO READ THAT TOO.

This journey has ended but it will forever be in my heart.

QueenUchi QueenUchi
11/27/18

@Sanders151

I was so surprised to see a new notification on this story after all these months. Thank you so much for taking the time
to comment, I hope you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read since. Please feel free to leave me updated on your thoughts xx

aryaaa aryaaa
11/25/18

Hello,

It's been a looong time since i've read this story. Life got busy and i totally forgot to finish it.

SO i decided to reread everything and lemme tell you...I STILL LOVE IT AS MUCH AS THE FIRST TIME.
Im currently at chapter 62 (right after fort hill) and i can't wait for what is to come.


Sanders151 Sanders151
11/15/18