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"𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥."

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The large group trudged along, the steady thud of boots hitting the asphalt echoing through the air. The sun hung high in the sky, relentless and scorching, a sure sign that summer was closing in. Sunny's mind wandered as they walked, her thoughts drifting to her birthday. Had it already passed? Maybe she was twelve now, and she didn't even know. It didn't matter much.

Everyone else was wrapped up in quiet conversations, voices hushed but comforting in the stillness. Sunny, however, kept to herself. She hadn't felt the urge to talk in a long while. Words just didn't seem to come as easily as they used to. But Maggie noticed her pulling away, and she wasn't going to let Sunny drift off into her own world again.

"You didn't make it to the bus?" Maggie's voice broke through the silence, her tone gentle but curious.

Sunny glanced at her, shaking her head. "No... explosion went off, had to run." Her words were blunt, distant. It was as if she was talking about something that happened to someone else entirely.

Maggie couldn't help but study the girl for a moment. She remembered the bright, innocent child Sunny had once been—the one who laughed freely and asked a million questions about the world. But now, standing beside her, was someone different, someone colder. "What... what happened, Sunny?" Maggie asked, unable to hide the sadness in her voice.

Sunny's face remained unreadable, her gaze fixed ahead. "I don't know," she muttered, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against one another.

Maggie frowned, her heart heavy as she looked at the girl who had once been so full of life. Where had that happy, innocent girl gone? She knew the world was harsh, but seeing Sunny like this, so detached—it hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Maggie watched Sunny for a moment longer, the weight of her worry growing heavier with every step. She slowed her pace, falling into step beside the girl. "Do you... do you wanna talk about it?" Maggie asked gently, her voice low, careful not to push too hard.

Sunny didn't answer right away. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ground, her boots kicking up small clouds of dust with each step. After a moment, she shook her head, still not looking up. "No. I already talked to Daryl," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm just... tryin' to get past it all."

Maggie nodded, even though Sunny wasn't looking at her. She could hear the strain in the girl's voice, the way she tried to close herself off from everything that had happened. But Maggie wasn't going to push—she knew better than anyone that sometimes, you just weren't ready to talk.

"Okay," Maggie said softly. She reached out and squeezed Sunny's shoulder, offering a small, reassuring touch. "Whenever you're ready, we'll be here."

Sunny gave the faintest nod but didn't say anything else, Maggie's heart broke a little more seeing her like this, but for now, she knew all she could do was walk beside her in silence.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After hours of endless walking, the group finally decided to rest. Night had fallen, the stars scattered across the sky like tiny, distant fires. The air was cool, and the sound of crickets filled the stillness as they settled down. Sunny found herself sitting on a small log beside Daryl and Carol, a little apart from the others who huddled around a small fire for warmth and comfort.

Daryl and Carol spoke quietly between themselves, but Sunny's mind was elsewhere. She wasn't listening, not really. Instead, her gaze drifted upward to the stars, their cold light drawing her thoughts far away. She thought of her mom. Lucille. The woman who used to tuck her in at night, who smiled at her with so much warmth. But what would she think now? Would she even recognize who Sunny had become?

Her eyes dropped to the journal resting in her lap, fingers brushing over the edges absentmindedly. The worn cover felt heavy tonight, almost as heavy as the question that spun relentlessly in her mind.

Would she hate who I am now?

Sunny swallowed hard, trying to push the thought away, but it clung to her like a shadow. She wasn't that innocent little girl anymore. The world had taken that from her, stripped her down to someone colder, harder—someone who had done things that still haunted her when the nights grew quiet.

Her heart ached with a longing she didn't quite understand—missing her mother, wishing she could hear her voice again, telling her everything was going to be alright. But maybe it wouldn't be. Maybe it never would be.

Daryl noticed her silence, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. He nudged her gently with his elbow. "You alright, Sun?"

Sunny blinked, pulled from her thoughts. She gave him a small nod, forcing a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Just... thinking."

Daryl didn't push, just gave a grunt of understanding. Carol smiled gently at her, the kind of smile that said she understood more than words could express. But still, no one could erase the questions swirling inside Sunny's mind.

It was clear to everyone that they'd all carried some kind of trauma since the prison fell. No one was the same anymore. It showed in the way they walked, in the quiet moments when their thoughts got too loud. Carol, especially, had changed. Her face was expressionless, like she was trapped somewhere deep inside her own mind, the weight of whatever haunted her evident in her eyes.

Daryl kept glancing over at her, noticing how distant she seemed, but she wouldn't look back at him. He knew better than to push.

"I don't want to talk about it," Carol finally muttered, her voice low and heavy. She shifted her gaze toward him, her eyes barely meeting his. "I can't... I just need to forget it," she added quietly, as if saying it aloud might somehow make it easier.

Sunny wasn't sure what 'it' was that Carol was talking about. She didn't know what had happened, not exactly. But she had overheard Tyreese telling Sasha that Mika and Lizzie had been with him Carol, and now they weren't. Just more names added to the ever-growing list of people lost to this world.

"Alright," Daryl replied softly, his voice steady. There was no pressure in his words, just a quiet understanding. It was the same unspoken bond they shared—Daryl and Carol, like her and Daryl. No need for explanations. They knew when to leave things unsaid.

All of their heads suddenly snapped as they heard a sound behind them, then something that sounded like distant footsteps. Sunny was quick to get to her feet, gripping her knife, Daryl too stood, looking around with his crossbow.

"It's nothin'," he said, still looking around.

Sunny wasn't as sure, she kept looking into the woods, her knuckles white as she gripped her knife. She didn't want to be vulnerable again, trusting that everything would be okay.

"It's nothin'," Daryl repeated, placing his hand on her shoulder. He could see the fear in her eyes, the thoughts swirling in her mind. "Hey, look at me," he said, hesitantly, Sunny did. "We're alright. Go sit with Carl 'n Lincoln, think the kids got some comics or somethin'."

Sunny took a deep breath, reluctantly nodding. They were okay. She began to walk off towards the others, though she had no plan to be anywhere near stupid Lincoln.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Like most nights since the prison fell, Sunny couldn't sleep. No matter how many times she shifted, adjusted her position, or squeezed her eyes shut, sleep never came. Her mind had a cruel way of dragging her back to all the things she'd rather forget, the bad memories circling like vultures. Nights like these made her feel trapped in her own head, and she hated them.

The sky had started to soften, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon. The others were still fast asleep, the camp quiet except for the faint sound of breathing and the occasional rustle of leaves. Sunny lay on her back, staring up at the fading stars, letting her thoughts drift. She wasn't expecting anyone else to be awake.

But then, she felt the gentle nudge of a boot against her feet. Daryl stood above her, looking down, his expression calm but alert.

"C'mon," he said in his usual gruff tone. He didn't say much more, but his meaning was clear. "Huntin'."

Sunny blinked, surprised. Daryl hardly ever asked her to go hunting with him—usually, it was his quiet time, his space to get away from everything and everyone. But there was something different in the way he asked this time. It wasn't just about hunting, it was about keeping her busy, giving her something to do other than lying there with her thoughts.

She sat up, glancing at the others still asleep, then back at him. "You sure?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

Daryl gave a small shrug, his way of saying, "Yeah." He didn't explain further—he never needed to.

Sunny got to her feet, brushing dirt off her clothes. Maybe being out there with Daryl would help. Maybe, just for a little while, it would keep her mind off everything.

The two walked, mostly in silence as Daryl managed to snag a few squirrels, and Sunny surprised herself by getting a rabbit. She wasn't as skilled as Daryl yet, but her aim was improving. The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable—it was the kind of silence Sunny had grown to appreciate. Out here in the woods, away from the weight of everyone else's expectations and the constant tension, it felt like they could both breathe a little easier.

Daryl barely spoke when they hunted together, but she didn't mind. He communicated in other ways—like when he gave her a small nod after she bagged the rabbit, a silent acknowledgment that she was doing well. She returned the gesture, feeling a flicker of pride.

The sun was fully up now, filtering through the trees in golden beams, making the forest feel almost peaceful. Almost. But no matter how serene it looked, Sunny knew better. The world didn't stay peaceful for long anymore.

As they walked deeper into the woods, Daryl suddenly stopped, crouching low. His sharp eyes scanned the area, and Sunny followed his lead, crouching beside him. There was a rustle in the bushes up ahead. She gripped her knife tightly, her heart picking up speed.

Daryl raised his hand slightly, signaling for her to stay calm. A few moments later, a deer emerged from the underbrush, its head low as it grazed. It was rare to see one these days, and Sunny's breath caught at the sight of it.

Daryl slowly reached for his crossbow, eyes narrowing as he focused on the deer. Sunny watched him, barely daring to breathe. But just as he was about to release the bolt, the deer bolted, spooked by something in the distance.

Daryl let out a low grunt of frustration and stood, slinging the crossbow over his shoulder.

"Maybe next time," Sunny muttered.

Daryl glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "World ain't gonna hand us second chances, kid."

Sunny nodded, understanding his words. Out here, survival wasn't about luck or wishes—it was about doing what needed to be done, even when it was hard.

They continued their trek, following the deer's trail, the silence returning, though it wasn't quite as heavy as before. Sunny looked up at the sky, wondering how many more mornings like this they'd get. Every day felt like a gamble.

After a while, Daryl broke the silence, his voice low. "You been doin' alright?" It wasn't much, but coming from him, it was enough to make her pause.

Sunny shrugged, not sure how to answer. "Tryin'."

Daryl nodded, not pushing for more. That was the thing about Daryl—he never asked for more than she was willing to give, and for that, she was grateful.

"Good," he said simply. "Just keep tryin'."

She hummed in response, nodding. It was true—she was trying. But it felt like part of her wanted to drown in her own thoughts, like the weight of everything was pulling her down no matter how hard she fought against it.

Daryl gave her a sidelong glance as they walked, his steps still slow and steady. "Ain't seen you writin' much lately," he said casually, though Sunny knew him well enough to catch the concern beneath his gruff tone.

She shrugged, keeping her eyes ahead. "Yeah... haven't felt like it."

Daryl didn't push right away. He just kept walking, giving her that space he always did, letting her decide if she wanted to say more. But after a while, he spoke again, softer this time, like he was careful with his words. "Why not? You used to write all the time—back at the prison, 'fore all this."

Sunny stayed quiet for a moment, her boots crunching softly on the leaves beneath them. Her journal had been her constant, a place where she could still talk to her mom, even if it was just in her head. But ever since she'd gotten it back, she hadn't written a word.

"I wouldn't know what to say to her," Sunny admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her throat tightened as the words came out. She hadn't said them out loud before—not to anyone, not even to herself.

Daryl nodded, not saying anything at first. His silence wasn't uncomfortable; it was thoughtful, like he was giving her the time she needed to figure out what she really wanted to say.

"It don't gotta be perfect," he finally said. "Just start somewhere."

Sunny chewed on her lip, staring at the ground as they walked. She knew Daryl was right, but the truth was, she wasn't even sure what she wanted to tell her mom. Did she want to talk about everything that had happened? All the people they'd lost? All the things she'd done—things she was ashamed of?

"I dunno what she'd think of me now," Sunny mumbled, surprising herself with the admission. It felt strange to say it out loud, but once it was out, she couldn't stop thinking about it. "I'm not the same girl she knew."

Daryl stopped walking and turned to face her, his eyes soft but steady. "Ain't none of us the same," he said, his voice low. "But that don't mean you stop talkin'. She's still listenin', y'know? Whether you believe that or not."

Sunny swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. There was a lump in her throat, but she nodded, grateful for his words, even if she didn't fully believe them yet. Maybe he was right. Maybe she could start again, even if it was messy, even if she didn't have the answers.

Daryl gave her a small nudge with his elbow, his way of telling her she wasn't alone in this. "C'mon. Let's keep movin'."

She followed him, but her thoughts were already drifting back to her journal. Maybe tonight, when everything was quiet, she'd write something—anything. Even if it wasn't perfect, it'd be a start.

After a while, Daryl and Sunny made their way back to the group. The deer's trail had gone cold, and all they had to show for the hunt were a few more squirrels—not nearly enough to keep them going for long. As they stepped out of the treeline, both froze at the sound of guns being cocked in their direction.

Luckily, it was just their group.

"We surrender," Daryl joked bluntly, raising his hands slightly in mock defeat. Rick almost cracked a smile as they all started moving again, Daryl falling in step beside him while Sunny trailed a few steps behind.

"No tracks, no nothin'," Daryl said, shaking his head in frustration.

"So... whatever you heard last night?" Rick asked, his voice low.

"It's more what I felt," Daryl replied, glancing around cautiously. "If someone was watchin' us, we'd have seen somethin'."

Rick nodded, his expression hardening as he moved back toward the group, calling out a quiet reminder for everyone to stay close.

Sunny walked behind them, her unease growing with every step. Daryl didn't feel right about what they'd heard last night, and neither did she. Something was off, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the sickness twisting in her stomach. She glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist, the one Carl had made for her so long ago, and fiddled with it absentmindedly.

They'd been walking for a few hours, they hadn't came across a single place worthy of being somewhere they could rest up. Sunny just hoped it wasn't going to be the same thing as it was when they left the farm, she didn't want another 8 months on the road.

"Help!" A distant voice suddenly called out, everyone looked around with wary glances. "Help! Anybody help!" The voice yelled again, Sunny looked at Rick who held his gun up, wordlessly telling them not to make a move.

"Dad, come on!" Carl said urgently as the yelling continued, but Rick didn't move. "Come one!" Carl pleaded again, "come on!"

Carl didn't wait for his dads approval, he sprinted off towards the desperate calls, so they all did too. Sunny wasn't sure how to feel, she considered it being some sort of trap, or someone bad who really didn't deserve help. But, Carl wanted to do the right thing, so she would too.

They all reached a large rock in the middle of the woods, a man was frantically screaming on top as walkers clawed at his feet. Carl didn't hesitate to shoot one of the walkers, Rick ran up towards the rock and grabbed a walkers head, smashing it against the boulder.

Sunny swung her bat out, forcing once of the walkers skulls to crush against the boulder. Quickly, they all managed to take the walkers out, and everything seemed to quiet for a moment, apart from the ragged breaths from the man.

Sunny looked up at him, he was trembling and his face was etched with fear. He was in all black, a small white collar, and a very shiny, bald head. He was a priest?

"We're clear. Keep watch," Rick ordered, his voice steady as he stepped closer to the rock. "Come on down," he said, motioning for the man to descend.

Shakily, the priest began climbing down, sweat pouring down his face. Sunny couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't already passed out from heat stroke, wearing layers of black in this blistering sun. He didn't say a word, just kept gulping, his expression all kinds of weird.

"You okay?" Rick asked, studying him closely.

The man held up a finger, like he was going to respond, but then suddenly turned and vomited—a lot.

Sunny immediately took several steps back, her face scrunching up in disgust as the sound of retching made her stomach churn. She grimaced, trying to block out the gurgling noise.

"Cool," Lincoln said with a grin, clearly unbothered. Sunny shot him a look. Of course, he would find this gross situation somehow 'cool.'

"Sorry," the man breathed out, collecting himself. "Yes. Thank you. I'm Gabriel," he finally spoke.

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick asked.

Gabriel chuckled, but he seemed scared and in disbelief at the same time. "Do I look like I would have any weapons?" He said. Sunny furrowed her brows, she didn't understand why he would say that. 

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like," big ginger remarked. Sunny had to hide her smile, she liked him a lot.

"I have no weapons of any kind. The word of God is the only protection I need," Gabriel said. Sunny frowned, feeling torn. Part of her wanted to roll her eyes at the statement, but another part of her was slightly in awe. The man had somehow stuck to his beliefs even after the world had completely fallen apart. It was strange, but there was something about it that made her curious.

"Sure didn't look like it," Daryl grumbled under his breath.

Gabriel smiled as if he was genuinely happy. "I called for help, and help came," he said, his voice light. The group stared at him, silent, their expressions unreadable. "Do you have... have any food? Whatever I had left, it hit the ground," he added, glancing nervously at the group.

"We've got some pecans," Carl offered, extending his hand with a small amount of the nuts.

Gabriel accepted them gratefully, a slight smile forming on his lips. "Thank you," he said softly before his eyes shifted to Judith, who was cradled in Tyreese's arms, cooing softly. "That's a beautiful child," Gabriel commented, but no one responded. They just glared at him, skeptical.

"Do you have a camp?" he asked, looking around at the group.

"No. Do you?" Rick shot back quickly, his eyes narrowing.

"I have a church," Gabriel replied, a hint of hope in his voice.

Rick's tone became sharp. "Hold your hands above your head," he ordered. Gabriel hesitated but eventually raised his hands. Rick patted him down, methodical and thorough. "How many walkers have you killed?" he asked, eyes fixed on the priest.

"Not any, actually," Gabriel said, chuckling nervously.

"Turn around," Rick commanded, and Gabriel quickly complied. "How many people have you killed?" Rick's voice was low, almost menacing.

"None," Gabriel answered, disbelief creeping into his tone.

"Why?" Rick's question hung in the air, heavy and pointed.

Gabriel paused before finally answering, "Because the Lord abhors violence," he said softly. Sunny watched him closely, her brow furrowed. She couldn't help but envy him a little. He hadn't been forced to break those beliefs, to go against what once was right in this world.

Rick wasn't satisfied. He stepped forward, his gaze hard. "What have you done?" he asked, voice low and threatening. "We've all done something."

Gabriel shifted nervously before replying, "I'm a sinner. I sin almost every day. But those sins, I confess them to God, not strangers."

"You said you had a church?" Michonne interjected, breaking the tension and trying to steer the conversation back.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.