𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 | 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

No, good - good was needed. Good is what kept things balanced. There couldn't be only bad in the world these days, there had to be people good enough, kind enough to try. Like Carl, that sweet kid back at the Church, he had the makings of something so pure, so decent. It was people like that, that they needed. Tightening her grasp around her knife, Delaney answered with a, "Naw, We need good. Can't all be assholes."

Her companion scoffed in obvious amusement at her brusque manner, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

It was shortly after that the two of them reached the road, filling Delaney with a sense of relief at the fact the moonlight was more so visible out there. Her eyes locked onto the car parked on the side of the road, curiously sending Carol a questioning look as she walked toward it. "Think it works?" Del wondered, figuring they could get it running and add it to their list of vehicles to take to D.C.

"It works." Carol announced, "Got it sorted earlier on." The engine rumbled to life when Carol lent into the door, twisting the keys. Impressed with the forethought for a moment, Delaney simply observed, before realizing - it was forethought for something else. Carol was out there for reasons different to Delaney - or perhaps not. Perhaps she was trying to escape in a similar manner, too over stimulated, too trapped, feeling like she needed a moment to simply breathe. Del could relate to that.

"Plannin' on leavin'?" With her arms folding over her chest, her eyes spotted the way Carol paused, how she stilled for a second as if she didn't truly know what she was doing. An impatient huff escaped the younger woman because Carol meant something to Daryl, it was clear as day, and yet this bitch was leaving without a goodbye. It ruffled Delaney's feathers and in annoyance, she was about to ask her about Daryl when a rotter fumbled up onto the road, attracted by the speech.

Carol quickly took it out with her knife, sending it to the floor with one curve of her arm. Delaney did a once over of her then, figuring Carol was much more than she had originally assumed - like her in a sense. There was something familiar about her demeanor. Something painfully familiar.

The bushes behind Delaney rustled and both she and Carol twisted around to see what it was. To their relief and not, it was Daryl. He stepped out into view, bruises highlighted by the moonlight and his bow firmly slung on his shoulder. Of course he had noticed them both missing, of course he had, and a subtle wave of guilt made Delaney glance away.

"What are ya doin'?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Delaney did not answer. She instead listened to the way that Carol responded with a, "I don't know." She sounded defeated, voice smaller than before. Maybe she truly did not know, running on some silly instinct, some silly thought. Whatever it was, Daryl didn't question her, as if knowing too, and instead gestured for them both to come back with him.

At which point the engine of a car revved loudly up the road, speeding closer and closer, which had Daryl, Carol and Del dropping down behind the running vehicle in front of them, alert. From the adjacent road, a dark coloured vehicle sped past, the sound of it's engine echoing in the dark silence. A huff escaped Delaney's mouth as Daryl suddenly darted out and sprinted up the road to see what it was, whilst she looked to Carol. "Ya don't know?" Is what she said, her eyes searching the older woman's face in the dark. "I think ya do."

Carol didn't say anything, not that Delaney expected her to. It was one of those things. And now that Daryl was there, he had brought a sobering truth to them. He barreled back to them, scooping his bow up into his arms, panting and huffing, making a show of smashing the rear light right beside Delaney. "What the fuck are ya doin'!" She exclaimed, jerking away from the shattered plastic. He did the same to the second rear light, explaining simply,