The days were still hot, unbearably hot. The humid, somehow, seemed to stick around more in the middle of the forest. Finding a spot under a tree only a few feet away from their camp, Shaylee had not so gracefully slumped down into the dirt and enjoyed the slight shielding from the sun. In another life, she would’ve been upset her jeans were now dirty. Her sweaty, dirty hair, clinging to her cheeks. It’s funny, it wasn’t really that long ago, still it felt like a lifetime. She would’ve objected to camping or the woods at all; the idea of running into a snake or any other kind of creature with wings and more than four legs, did not sound like her idea or fun. But this wasn’t about fun, camping, or good jeans anymore.
It’s survival. Something she was still left continuously praying her brother had better luck with than she did. Fidgeting with a plain, silver cross that still hung from her neck, the sound of footsteps caught her attention. Sitting up slightly from the sound, it was too paced, too human to be a threat. The small hunting knife in her hand seemed to feel heavier with that thought. She still hadn’t even killed a walker yet. Would she ever be able to?
