Seven ➳ d.dixon's dog

t w e n t y - s e v e n

Seven's POV

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We trudge through the forest, Rick being a lot lighter and stealthier while moving through the brush than I thought he would be. I was fully expectin' him to be stompin' on any and every branch, leaf, and twig in his path like a one-man band.

I quint my eyes while wiggling my nose, feeling a need to itch the living hell out of it. You guys don't get how lucky ya' are ta' have hands.. I can't exactly walk and scratch like you can. A subtle scowl sets on my face, mentally cursing the universe for making me a dog.

I walk in front of Daryl, while Rick walks slightly behind him. Rick doesn't know how to track so he's mostly just keeping lookout for any walkers or dinner we may have missed.

Which brings me back to on why I think Daryl decided to bring Rick out here. Originally I thought that Daryl wanted Rick to get in the extra practice and learn a thing or two about hunting, but after further speculation that is not the case.

Lately.. actually all winter things within our little survivor group has been just a tad bit strained. I scoff to myself. And tha's puttin' it lightly.

The main strain surrounding around Rick, his domestic affairs, and his leadership. Ever since his Ricktatorship speech everyone seems to be on their toes around the ex-officer. It also doesn't help that even I can see the marital issues between Lori and Rick. Of course it's to be expected after your wife screws your best friend who later tried to kill you, who you then killed, and now your wife is pregnant with probably your dead best friend's baby. Ouch. Rick has it rough.

But looking at a more logistical stance with how the world is now.. they should probably put an end to their strain between one another. Or at least try and ease it. I mean, I ain't no counselor but- c'mon. Have ya' seen what's around every corner? Death. It isn't the best time to hold a grudge against someone when you know somewhere in your heart you care for them, you never know when they'll be gone.

Good job philosophical and logical Seven. If only you had the ability to speak besides the occasional bark, woof, whine, and howl. I give a straight deadpan and annoyed face to myself, cursing the universe again.

Without even realizing I find my mind wandering to how Carl is taking everything. Sometimes I think the kid might be more mature than some of us. Like any kid he hasn't been all sunshine and roses with his parents constant bickering, though instead of whining and crying like you would have expected from a kid his age he just resorted to distancing himself. Not sure if that's any better or worse, but during these times I think that's for the better. He sorta just accepted his parents differences like he accepted the world coming to an end- with significantly less crying. Makes me feel bad for him.

I don't catch the frown ghosting across my doggish lips.

I think I may have inadvertently taken a liking to the little sharp-shooter. I sigh, glancing back to Legolas. I guess I ain't the only one who's become a tad bit softer.

Leaves occasionally stick to the bottom of my paws, still being damp from the occasional rainfall. Every now and then I have to lift a paw and shake it like a lunatic trying to wield fire in his bare-hand. Let me tell you, having wet sticky leaves to the bottom of your feet while trying to do something important isn't the most likable thing in the world.