HEART OF GLASS¹ ━━ the walking dead ✓

[ 010 ] songs of innocence

"We can't sit here all day." Sage signed. "Carl needs us."

Marley sighed. Carl needed Sage, not necessarily her. The apocalypse had brought the children abundantly close, despite the many difficulties that occur with communication. Somehow, Carl had once owned several chunks of eroded chalk, and when they resided at the quarry in Atlanta city he would scrawl his words across the asphalt for Sage to read. Then, she would do the same. That was how they spoke.

Now . . . it was harder.

Marley reached forward and ruffled Sage's unruly blonde curls. Force of habit. The younger girl was clearly unamused, reaching up to fix the mess of hair Marley created with a low scoff.

All of a sudden, Glenn rapped his knuckles against Marley's window. She jumped and clutched her heart, but upon realising it was Glenn and not a complete stranger, the muscles that immediately grew taut around her shoulders relaxed to a significant extent.

She pushed open the door, whirling around to glare at him. "You scared me! My stomach almost fell through my butt!" she hissed angrily, swatting Glenn's arm.

He quickly pressed a finger to his lips, desperate to keep Marley quiet while he scoped out the place. "Keep it down." he muttered, shooting her a hesitant glance. "Please."

"But don't they know we're coming?"

Glenn paused, exchanging a look with T-Dog who didn't appear at all pleased — cocking his eyebrow in disdain. Apparently, it only took a moment for Glenn to realise Marley was right, and he swallowed, dipping his head down in embarrassment.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Right. Should we . . . ring the doorbell?"

Marley shrugged. "Sure—"

"We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we?" T-Dog interrupted grumpily. "Having to be considerate."

"I mean, there's no harm in ringing the doorbell." Marley said, tilting her head toward the screen door. However, she was quick to notice that there was no doorbell, only a bare chunk of white wood in its place. "Or . . . knock?"

T-Dog rolled his eyes and split apart from the small collective, wandering up the front steps to the farmhouse. The trio were swift to follow in his footsteps.

Glenn tightened his grip around his shotgun. "I'll knock—"

"Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?" asked an unfamiliar, southern voice.

Marley's head whipped to the side.

The woman who whisked Lori away earlier was watching them intently. She was sitting on a small folding chair by the front window, her knees drawn up to her chest in an attempt to keep herself composed.

She was pretty, Marley noticed, from a closer angle. The kind of pretty Marley aspired to be when she was younger, wishing to be like the drop-dead gorgeous swimsuit models who flaunted their alluring beauty in perfume commercials.

The stranger wore a floral shirt, and her choppy chocolate-brown hair hung over her forehead like a curtain swept aside.

"Uh, hi." Glenn stammered nervously. "Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything."