The air was thick and hot, the slightest of breeze was felt as the trees ruffled against themselves, emitting sounds of shudders. Her footsteps were quiet and precise—as if she'd practiced walking this way for such a long time that it'd become instinct.

Birdie Jackson's hand was tightly wrapped around a small butterfly knife, something her father had given her before he left to go on a run. That said run was spoken of three weeks ago, and he hadn't been back since.

Of course, worry began to spark in Birdie's chest. And she eventually took the only action she could think was necessary—to look for her dad.

Even though, she didn't even know where he was, she was still determined to find him. Not to mention, the water bottle and three canned foods were almost diminishing. She would starve soon if she didn't stock up on more food.

In all seriousness, Birdie didn't know the way back onto the main road and where her dad would usually go on his runs. She went with him sometimes, but she was always distracted by the trees, or something always seemed to occupy her mind at that time that she barely paid attention to where they were going.

So, at the moment, she was scolding herself for that.

Despite her father's training with trying to teach her how to hunt, Birdie lacked the ability to fully concentrate. Every time she willed herself to focus, she would focus about focusing, and then she would scold herself about not focusing when she should be focusing, and it would be a whole hassle that, in the end, would lead her with no sense of true knowledge.

She'd been walking for a long time, she could tell by how her legs ached. She was trying really hard to remember her surroundings from when they first got here, but all she could remember was the dirt and the orange leaves scattered around, crunching beneath her over-sized boots. Which, quite frankly, wasn't much help since the forest ground looked the exact same everywhere.

But then again, that didn't stop Birdie. Nothing could stop her now. When she put her mind to something, she went through hell to achieve it.

And right now, Birdie would do anything to find her father.

Like follow the church bells.

She knew it was stupid and her father always told her to not follow things that could lead to possible danger. And the loud church bells that could attract walkers was obvious danger. However, it also made Birdie think of the possibility that this might be her father, sending her a message by ringing the bells.

Fingers tightly wrapped around her knife, knuckles whitening due to how rough she was holding it, Birdie took fast, precise, and quiet steps as she headed toward the sound. She tried to be as cautious as she could, but the lingering sensation of excitement and a reunion with her father was on the brink of distracting her.

She was trying not to bounce on her toes, the thoughts and expectations that she might finally be reunited with her father were making her sloppy, unfocused, and when a hand latched onto her shoulder, she froze in the process of turning around—

Her small form didn't help either.

She and the walker hit the ground with a loud thud!—her hissing at the silver of pain that went through her back due to the harshness of the fall. But that didn't matter—what did matter was the walker snapping its rotting teeth right at her.

Birdie let out a strained groan, her knife had fallen not a few inches away from her. She couldn't get to it. It was too far away. Though, she had two of her hands holding the walker's face and jaw to stop it from completely biting into her and taking her life away.

He kind of looked like her favourite teacher.

Her fingers were slipping, however, and soon, Birdie Jackson would probably be gone and Walker Birdie Jackson would be born. Her breath hitched in her throat, the need for air weakening the hold she had on the walker despite having all of her strength right on it.

Fear seeped into her bones at the subtle realisation that—maybe, she would be dead soon. Birdie was scared, and the walker before her was doing nothing but attacking her, making it easier for death to grasp at her.

Birdie hated feeling scared, she felt weak and useless, and her father always told her to not be any of those. He told her to be strong and good and useful, and if she wasn't, then she had to make herself useful.

But Birdie was useless now, and so was the knife that she had trusted oh, so much to keep her safe. Birdie wanted to turn and scowl at it, maybe it'll turn to a gun then. She didn't know why her dad didn't give her a gun—he said it was dangerous.

Wasn't leaving her alone dangerous?

Didn't he know if he'd gone for a long time, then she would come and look for him?

Did her dad not know her at all?

"Hey!"

A voice startled Birdie, the walker in front of her looked up, seemingly startled as well. Birdie tilted her head and used its distraction as an advantage; she leaned her leg up and pushed her ankle into the walker's torso, making it look like a discarded piece of trash as it stumbled down on the dirt with a harsh blow.

The next thing Birdie heard was a whoosh! and a black line flying through her vision before a squelch was heard and the walker laid limp on the ground. That was when Birdie saw it: a bolt.

There was the sound of shifting behind her that made her painfully aware of another person's presence mingling with her own. Birdie was not alone anymore, instead, she turned with a scowl to see a redneck panting and staring at the walker he had shot.

Her scowl deepened when she saw how dirty he was. Birdie subtly turned her head to spot the knife that had been unintentionally discarded by her when she got attacked by the walker, and made the brave decision to begin sliding toward it.

She stopped when she heard a click.

"Don't move."

His voice didn't sound like it fit how he looked, but Birdie stopped nonetheless. The click she assumed had been the crossbow, so Birdie didn't dare move, or else the person might just shoot her in the head.

Instead, she slowly and cautiously turned her head to the side. A man wearing a sheriff's hat bumped into her view, he was staring down at her with his gun raised. Birdie scowled at him, eyebrows furrowing even further as she narrowed her eyes.

She hoped she looked threatening enough for them to leave her alone. They were wasting her time.

"What're you doin' out here, kid?" The Sheriff Man asked, titling his head at her. His grip on his gun was slowly lowering, as if he was lowering his guard with it. "Are you alone?"

Birdie didn't answer, she just glared at him, her eyes flitting to the redneck that still had his crossbow aimed at her.

"Is someone with you?" The sheriff asked again, voice harsher, more demanding. Still, Birdie didn't answer. She just stared at him with a glare that clearly said she wasn't going to talk nor was she going to cooperate easily.

The two waited for her to answer for a few seconds before they shared a look and nodded at each other. Birdie perked up when the sheriff approached her and gripped her arm, hauling her up.

She gritted her teeth and tried to wrench her arm away, pulling harshly. His grip was surprisingly strong and slightly hurt. She wondered if he actually was a cop before the Outbreak, otherwise, he was just wearing these clothes that posed him as a leader just because.

Birdie didn't like the strong grip he had on her, no matter how surprised she was—she wanted it off! Fortunately for her, he wasn't wearing a long sleeve, and his skin was glistening in the sweat and the heat of the sun.

His grip was tight and Birdie didn't like it.

She gritted her teeth before she leaned down and latched her teeth onto the skin of the man's arm, biting down harshly. He let out a yelp and immediately let go of her arm, causing her to crash down and onto the ground quite harshly. Birdie breathed heavily and glared at him as he straightened himself, sending a glare her way.

Heaving, Birdie immediately leapt to her feet, turning around and weaving through the trees, escaping from the two dangerous men as her boots smashed leaves against the ground, picking up dirt in the process.

Her chest hurt and her teeth did, too, she could feel something in between them. She didn't know if she bit him that hard, but if so, then eugh—she would need to brush her teeth when she got back to their car.

"Hey!"

The loud yell startled her, making her painfully aware of her surroundings. Birdie frantically looked around when she realised that she had no idea where she was. The woods didn't look familiar to her; they weren't near where the car was.

Perhaps Birdie was so focused on finding her dad that she forgot to remember where the car was. Birdie was lost.

She stopped running for just a moment, looking around, trying to find some sort of direction as to where the car might possibly have been.

"Kid."

Birdie quickly whipped around to see Sheriff Man standing with a cautious look on his face, hands outstretched in front of him as if he was approaching an animal. Birdie narrowed her eyes, taking a step back, her fingers wrapping around air, the reminder that her knife was missing made her even more frustrated.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. Just—d'you have anyone else with you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her, trying to coax some sort of response. She looked dirty, beaten, and desperate. He couldn't leave a kid out here—he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did.

Birdie thought about just kneeing him and running away, but at the corner of her eye, she could see the redneck with his crossbow at the ready. Birdie wasn't planning on dying any time soon, and she didn't want to get shot at either. That would just make her a complete and utter liability.

She also knew this man expected her to speak, to answer him. But she hadn't even spoken in two months straight—her father couldn't even coax her to, despite his pleads. Birdie figured it was hard living with someone that barely spoke, having to sit in silence with them because that was all they knew now.

But, truthfully, Birdie had a strange feeling that they could help her. She had many weaknesses that she might not overcome if she didn't have help. Her food and water were scarce, her knife was lost, and she couldn't even kill a walker.

These people didn't look clean, but they had knives and guns. They looked like they had essentials, so maybe they could help her. She didn't really trust them, but she could use them for the time being—to get what she wanted. After that, she'd just waltz out of their lives and reunite with her dad.

Easy, peasy.

Letting out a huff, Birdie shook her head, finally answering the sheriff's question as No, she didn't have anyone with her.

"Alright, well," the man sighed, running a hand through his hair and placing a hand on his hip. He looked more relaxed now, seeing as she answered him. "You can't stay out here on your own, kid. We can get you some water and food. And then we can send you on your way, a'right?"

Birdie shifted on her feet. She looked into his eyes; she could see the genuine aspect of what he had said evident in his them. He looked like he would actually provide her with that stuff—meaning they did have food and water, something Birdie desperately needed.

She nodded silently.

Birdie watched as the sheriff turned his head to the side, where the redneck stood, and nodded at him. Sheriff Man then glanced at her and nodded to the front of him, signalling that she needed to walk before him in case she'd attempt to run away again. She narrowed her eyes at him annoyedly and huffed, but obliged nonetheless.

He's smart. Maybe he is a cop.

The three strode along the woods, Redneck's crossbow making a sort of clicking noise with every step he made. It annoyed Birdie so much that she wanted to turn around, pluck it out of his arms, and stomp on it until it broke. But she didn't do that, instead, she grumpily continued forward, head down with a big frown on her lips.

She had no idea where they were going, the anxiety of not knowing was eating at her. And knowing that she didn't have any direction as to where her dad's car was anymore made her even more panicked. Was she going to be able to make it back? Or was she going to have to stay with them?

She didn't want to stay with them, though. That was the last thing she wanted. She didn't know these people—what if they were dangerous on the inside. But... he did promise her water and food, so Birdie guessed that was one reason she would be compliant for the time being.

She glanced to the side to watch Sheriff Man as he walked beside her, hand on gun. His face seemed a little tense and his eyes scoured the area every few seconds. He looked determined and brave. He looked like he could be named something like Rufus, or something. Like Birdie's uncle.

When she turned to look at Redneck, he seemed to catch her eye almost immediately. His glare was sharp and his eyes looked like they could cut through her soul if he wanted to. Birdie got the strong feeling he didn't like her, so that was why she glared right back at him; hoping it was as vicious as his own.

"What's your name, kid?"

The unexpected question cut through the silent air as Birdie turned to look back at Sheriff Man. He was looking down at her with a soft gaze, like he'd already accepted her. Birdie just stared at him with a blank expression, unsure of how to respond.

It wasn't like she could tell them her name right off the bat—she didn't trust them yet. Her name was sprawled across her wrist in bold letters, but that would be revealed when she got her food and water that had been promised.

Silently, Birdie moved her head to look in front of her and walked ahead, effectively ignoring them.

"Hey, kid," Redneck gritted out, his hand reaching out to grip Birdie's jacket to turn her around. "Ya better tell us your name right 'bout now."

She stumbled back, moving her body to the side harshly so his hand would falter and lose the grip he had on her. Sheriff Man pushed Redneck back, getting all up in his face as he narrowed his eyes. "Daryl. She's just a kid."

Redneck—Daryl—cast a glance toward Birdie, eyes unaccepting and frustrated. He jerked away from Sheriff Man's grip, before rolling his eyes and walking away, muttering a low, "Whatever."

Sheriff Man looked back at her, nodding his head toward the direction Daryl was going to. "C'mon," he said, and Birdie reluctantly stepped forward before she was stuck in the middle between Grumpy Daryl and Sheriff Man.

The walk continued quietly with the only sound heard being their boots crushing the leaves below. Birdie kept her head down, looking at her boots that crushed each dried and hard leaf that she could spot.

When she looked up, she paused momentarily. In front of her was a cemetery. Birdie hated cemeteries—they scared her to death, because how did dead people just lay there rotting and decaying and living people casually walked over them like nothing?

She felt like it was blatantly disrespecting the dead. When she felt Sheriff Man's hand nudge her forward, she began walking in a choppy manner to avoid stepping on the dead people's graves.

What if they felt it in the afterlife? Or what if they haunted her in her sleep?

Birdie didn't want to be haunted, nor did she want to upset any dead people.

She heard a scoff in front of her, which made her look up to see Daryl looking back at her with an expression of mock disbelief. She was about to give him the bird when she noticed the large white building behind him. It looked like a church with its tall interior and coloured glass windows.

Birdie's family was not one that was particularly religious, however, her grandmother and grandfather were, so when she was younger, she would always hear them talk about how Jesus Christ would save them when they were down, or how God had a plan for them that had already been planned ahead.

Birdie hadn't ever been completely convinced of that, mostly because she was only a child when they spoke to her that way, and she didn't understand what religion was. But now that she thought about it really hard, she didn't think she liked God's plan that much. Or at all.

Destroying the world while it transformed from bright and living to death and danger while he watched from above? Birdie thought that was outright cruel.

When they moved past the church, she saw even more graves. It made her question why people thought about churches so positively—if they were about greatness and life, why did they have so much dead surrounding them?

Birdie huffed, knowing if her dad was here, he would provide her with an answer that would satisfy her.

"Rick?" A gruff voice made caught her attention and she turned around, Sheriff Man copying her actions—or rather, Rick. The man that approached them looked broad and strong, claw-like marks were evident on his neck and a small scratch on his nose. He glanced down warily at Birdie before he looked up at Rick. "Who the hell is that?" He pointed at her.

Rick glanced down at Birdie who was glaring up at the man with her narrowed, brown eyes. He exhaled heavily, "Some kid me and Daryl found while lookin' for Sophia. Won't talk or nothin', she was just wanderin' around by herself, so I couldn't exactly leave her alone."

The man raised his eyebrows in disbelief, a small smile of amusement stretching his face. Birdie scrunched her face up at how creepy he looked. "So you brought her... here?"

Rick took a step forward. "I couldn't just leave her, Shane, she's a kid!"

"Rick, we already got a kid missin', we can't be handling another one!" Shane snapped back, fury lacing his voice and eyebrows angrily furrowed as he stared at Rick, his chest was heaving and his eyes were sharp.

Birdie huffed loudly, not liking how they were talking about her like she wasn't there. She didn't even want to be here anyway, so if someone didn't want her here, then she shouldn't be here, right?

Turning on her heels, Birdie began to walk away and back into the woods. However, a hand latched onto her shoulder and she pushed back at the reminder of the walker, before the sight of Rick entered her vision. "Where are you going?"

Birdie only glanced at the woods before darting her eyes back at him.

"No," Rick shook his head, as if he knew what she was thinking of doing.

Birdie scrunched her face up, not liking how he expected her to listen to his demands. He was not her dad, so he couldn't boss her around. She turned around and stepped forward, ready to leave.

"Hey—!" Rick leaned forward, ready to grab her again when a new voice cut through the air, causing them both to halt.

"Dad?" The voice sounded male and young, intriguing Birdie. She turned her head to see a young boy looking hopefully up at Rick. Behind him was a woman that had her arm around his shoulder protectively. "Who is she?"

Birdie hated how everyone was acting like she was a foreign creature. She was just a girl. Sure, she was slightly dirty and her hair was a little messy, but it wasn't like she was a zombie or a freakin' fairy with wings.

She narrowed her eyes at the boy and gritted her teeth. She really wanted to get out of here. She hated the attention they gave her, and it wasn't even the nice kind of attention; it felt hostile and hesitant.

Rick turned to her, hands at his hips. "Why don't you tell us your name?" He asked, tilting his head. His eyes were nicer than the others, more softer and gentle, but that didn't mean Birdie trusted him enough to speak or talk. All she did was stare at him blankly, causing him to huff and turn back to the little boy. "Guess it might take some time before we get to know more, huh, buddy?"

The boy nodded, stepping back into the embrace of the woman behind him. They looked really similar, so Birdie figured that it might've been his momma. She missed her's a lot, but she knew she couldn't do anything about it.

"Come on," Rick said, successfully grabbing her attention. He nodded his head forward, beckoning her towards him, though, Birdie stayed still, staring at him warily. "I promised you water, didn't I?"

And food, Birdie thought, but didn't say. As Rick walked forward, she started to walk behind him, the thought of hydration satisfying her.

𓅃

The moment Birdie had that promised sip of water, the group was already moving. Everyone seemed hesitant in letting her stay with them, but Rick outright refused to let her go, which mainly irritated Birdie more than anyone else.

She was only here because he promised her food and water, and now that she'd gotten some hydration, she thought that he would be satisfied enough to let her go. But no, Rick was more persistent than he looked that Birdie had no way of fully escaping him.

Now, she walked alongside him with Shane and Rick's kid who she learned was named Carl. She didn't let like him much, even though he smiled at her. In her eyes, he looked like he would die easily if his father wasn't the one wearing the sheriff's hat.

Nonetheless, she kept close to Rick since she didn't have any weapons and he had a literal gun strapped onto his holster. Besides, if there was a shooting, then she could just steal it and run. Better them than her, right?

The air was silent and the Georgia heat made them sweat underneath their shirts. Birdie was mainly frustrated with her hair. Every once in a while, she had to wipe at the back of her neck to relieve herself from the heat.

She wasn't used to sweating this much. Back at the car, they still had air conditioning, but they used it minimally so to not waste the energy of the car. They left it on three hours once a week—even if it wasn't that much, it was still enough to get by. But now, as Birdie walked alongside them, basking in the heat of the sun, she thought this was actual torture.

Everyone halted when Rick stopped moving and held up his hand. Birdie's eyes searched the green trees surrounding them, trying to look for a walker or some sort of threat. Something else captured her attention, however—something doe-eyed and brown.

A deer.

It was moving so elegantly, so freely, like it was just that. Free. Birdie felt her lips stretch into a small smile. She had always loved animals, she had a whole collection of stuffed animals back at home, safe in her bed, and seeing one after such a long time brought a warm feeling to her heart.

Though, she knew if her dad was here, he would have shot the deer already. The thought brought an ache to her chest, but Birdie tried not to think about it, only attempting to stare at the deer before her.

Its legs ruffled against the leaves and branches surrounding it as it stepped into the clearing. Birdie could see it clearly now, its brown antlers that looked to be some sort of a fading grey, the small streaks and spots of white littered all over its body, and its doe-eyes peered into the nature around it.

It was truly fascinating to see a the deer, Birdie felt like she was in a zoo again, with her family, seeing all the animals. She remembered how much they laughed and admired, how giddy they felt when they gave the ducks food. Birdie missed that feeling, she was happy she was able to see a reminder of them; one that was beautiful and elegant, shaped as this deer.

The deer then wriggled its body slightly, like a dog after stepping out of the water. Birdie almost forgot that animals existed, seeing so little of them. She had been so caught up on survival that the beauty of the world had passed her by.

She heard a click behind her that made her turn her head to see Shane clocking his gun, ready to shoot the deer. But Rick stopped him by quietly calling out to him, causing him look back at Rick. "Shane," he said, before nodding down at Carl.

Birdie watched as Carl stepped forward and closer to the deer, his expression full of wonderment and content. Perhaps he was bewildered, too, seeing as the slow steps he took were not only for the deer, but for himself, too.

Birdie wanted to go up and join him, but she figured Rick would want his kid to be alone in this moment. So, even though she was still disdained, she let Carl have his moment.

Carl turned around to look at them, mostly Shane and Rick, which made the two men happily smile and nod at him to continue. Birdie smiled while she continued to watch Carl, the small feeling of content fluttering in her chest.

The moment was so savory that it might've taken from the old life, before the Outbreak and before the world went to absolute shit. It was like this was one piece the puzzle had forgotten—a piece full of exploration and childlike wonder.

Carl was getting so close to the deer, inches away from touching it as he stretched out his hands slowly. So.. so close. He stepped on a branch and it caught the deer's attention, making its head turn around. Though, even with the sight of Carl, it did not stray away.

So close.

The deer's ears fluttered outward, its eyes blinking as they connected with Carl, like sharing some sort of secret message.

The moment was cut short so fast.

The loud shot burned through the air and rung in Birdie's ears, she flinched back harshly at the sound, leaning into Rick before he pushed past her, toward Carl.

So close.

The moment so savory.

Sharing a secret message.

Carl was so close to the deer, and then Carl was on the ground with blood—

Blood.

Carl was shot.

•

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
heeeeeey! welcome to birdie's story! i'm so excited to finally publish her 'cause i've been working on her for a long time even though i probably should've waited a bit longer, but she's precious and a little fireball and i love her!!! <3

i hope you enjoyed! don't forget to vote and comment! don't be a silent reader!