WHITE FLAG ━ glenn rhee ¹ ✓

𝟏𝟓. the farmhouse

The car came to a slow stop at a barbed wire fence with a gate. Kloe seized onto the door handle and pushed it open since she guessed she had to open the gate. She walked over to it and pushed it forward. Her finger got caught on the wood, leaving a splinter that stung. She shrugged the pain away though.

She stood out of the way, allowing Glenn to drive the car inside. Once he had, Kloe pulled the gate shut tight and headed back to the car. She pulled open the car door and climbed back in, shutting the door.

Her head flopped down and she raised her finger closer to her eye as she scanned it, searching for the splinter. Once she spotted it, she began pulling at it, attempting to pull it out. A little hiss escaped her lips as she unsuccessfully pulled it.

"You okay?" Glenn asked with a soft tone, noticing the sound his best friend made with pain.

"Yeah, just a splinter," she replied, barely above a whisper as she continued to pull at it. With luck, she managed to pull the son of a bitch out and threw it onto the ground. "Sucker," she muttered under her breath.

The car came to a sudden stop and Glenn turned the ignition, making the engine power off. Simultaneously, the three young adults opened the car doors. Glenn had parked the Cherokee in front of the farmhouse, next to a tall tree. Kloe threw her backpack over her shoulder and her quiver as she held her bow in her free hand.

The three young adults made their way over to the front porch of the farmhouse. They stayed quiet as they got closer to the brick steps. The atmosphere reminded the girl of when she lived in Florida - in the countryside.

They came to a stop in front of the steps as they all noticed the blood drops on them. A hole pierced through my chest, knowing whose it was; Carl's. Kloe couldn't imagine what Rick and Lori were going through.

"So, do we ring the bell?" Glenn inquired, watching the hurt man and sorrowful best friend for an answer. He held tightly onto his shotgun, "I mean, it looks like people live here."

T-Dog, who was sweating tremendously, rolled his eyes, "We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we?" Glenn and Kloe shared a glance before walking up the brick staircase, T-Dog by Glenn's side, "Having to be considerate."

"Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?" The three young adults' bodies came to an immediate stop and jumped back in surprise at the unexpected, familiar, thick country voice. They turned their daze to the same girl on the horse from earlier. She was sitting on a white chair, her legs brought up to her chest and her arms rested on her knees.

"Uh, hi," Glenn greeted as he lifted his thumb and pointed to the end of the field, "Yes, we closed it."

"Did the latch and stuff, won myself a splinter while I was at it," Kloe added on, pointing to her finger that was still sore from the splinter.

The girl leaned forward, slouching her back with a smirk on her face as she watched the three of them carefully. "Hello, nice to see you again," Glenn waved politely, expecting the girl to reply, but she stayed silent.

"We, uh, met earlier briefly, in the woods," Kloe noted, pursing her lips at the thick tension. T-Dog, who was half awake, sighed deeply and parted his lips to speak.

"Look, we came to help," he paused as the girl shot up from the white chair and slowly made her way towards the three, "there anything we can do?" Kloe watched as the girl's eyes lowered to T-Dog's arm that had a bandage wrapped around it, but blood was soaking through, making her gasp. "It's not a bite. I cut myself pretty bad though."

"We'll have it looked at," the accented girl instantly said, stepping forwards, being only around two meters in front of the three and leaned against the wall, "I'll tell 'em you're here."