✓𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧² | 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

3.7

"Judith!" I yelled through the trees. "Judy!"

"Jude?" shouted Aaron from behind me.

Judith had ran off without telling anyone, as soon as I realised she wasn't beside me I immediately started yelling for her. Causing everyone to follow me in the search for her.

Despite being 24, I never failed to worry for my sister when she ran off.

"I'm here!" Judith's voice called out.

"Judith?" I gasped and ran towards my sister, dropping to my knees to embrace her and she hugged me back. "Don't ever do that again. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Lia." She promised.

I heard other people approach, but it wasn't my group. I stood up and instantly raised my bow, pushing Judith behind me.

"I heard them calling." Judith explained. "They needed our help."

"Our rig...it got overrun." A guy heavily breathed. "By sickos. We owe our lives to Miss Grimes here."

"There still need our help." Judith said, taking my canteen of water from my pocket.

"We can't." Rosita said. "You know that."

"But..." Judith began.

"Jude...You know what your mom would say." I stated, still training my eyes directly at the newcomers, and Judith looked down.

I disliked having new people arrive. When Judith got taken with CJ, after trusting a new group, it pushed me near the edge. It forced me out of my guilt-stricken state and instantly come back to life to get the kids back. I remember that day perfectly well, finding out CJ and Judith went missing was the worst feeling I had ever felt, and thus having to hunt down killer children.

The scar on my back was a painful reminder of that, including the extra one they added down my face. Across the top of my right eyebow and down to my left cheek, which caught people off guard often.

"Hey, uh, I dabbled in the culinary arts, uh, once upon a time ago." began the man who was eyeing up the deer Eugene carried around his shoulders.

"Luke." warned one of them.

"What the shit is culinary arts?" I ask and I felt Judith knock me.

"Language!" Judith scolded, before I looked back up to the guy who had a smile on his face, their eyes lingered on the scar on my face before speaking again.

"You know, with a little bit of help, I can help whip this buck into a might fine osso buco."

"Am I suppose to know what that is?" I ask.

"You don't know what that is?" He asked and I blankly shook my head.

"We don't live in a five star restaurant buddy."

"Stew." Eugene stated. "We make stew. More mileage for the masses."

"There are more of you?" asked a women with wild hair.