better angels

after determining they would need to stay at the firetower and return to grab aiyla the following morning, benji had taken to making himself busy. taking stock of the food in the kitchen probably ought to have been the priority, but the promise of getting his hands dirty and tinkering on something like old times had been too promising. he'd left kisa at the small dining table leaned over a local map ( he'd heard something about a garage at one point, but she'd fallen silent shortly after — when he'd turned to check in on her, the woman had been sprawled across the small table and even though he knew she'd be more comfortable in the bed, he hadn't the heart to wake her. not when sleep these days was so sporadic as it was — they needed to take what they could get ).

he didn't hear the soft gasp that escapes her as she wakens ( the man too busy grumbling beneath his breath, hunched over and eyes narrowed at the generator — the lack of light is making it difficult to diagnose ). the whispering of his name however, startles him ( head smacking against a shelf as he whips around — soft curse escaping him in the process even as fingers are blindly scrambling for the knife at his side — as if kisa is in danger rather than simply trying to get his attention ).

"don't apologize. i would have moved you to the bed but i was worried i'd wake you." he notes, though his interest is piqued at the mention of the garage once more ( for he's confident anything left behind is something he could get up and running with the right supplies and some gasoline ). "would probably have to be more suitable for off road terrain too, to be able to get out here. i didn't see a road and anything that would have passed as one was bumpy as hell. would be a jeep or a truck maybe." transportation though would change everything. even if they only used it periodically, at least the means to get around would be there.

"don't worry too much about finding it tonight. we'll bring aiyla back here in the morning and come up with a game plan in the afternoon. no rush in getting to the garage right away and what we have here for food will last us a bit anyways. go get some proper sleep in the bed — i'm done tinkering for now anyways. i'll take first watch, yeah?"

As Benji speaks, Kisa scribbles a few notes—both because she missed the way a pen feels in her hand and is sort of trying to remember what it feels like to write, and also because she doesn't want to forget any of his observations. If she had it her way she would've been keeping a journal of all they've been through throughout the last... don't ask her about time. But it seems frivolous to want to keep a history of recent events when she's not certain they're going to make it that far. (And who'd want to read that, anyway? They're all going through the same thing.)

She nods, agreeing with his notion not to rush. Of course, there's excitement that they might finally have a breakthrough after so long of practically wandering around aimlessly. But she knows not to think too ahead of herself, even if finding this firetower is a victory in it of itself. "Right," she says. And confesses, "I hope Aiyla understands. I hope she forgets about being mad at us if we can make this place... good. Even for a while."

Capping her pen (worried it might dry out), Kisa stands up from her spot at the kitchen and stretches. Her gaze wanders over at the bed. Despite the tower being indeed occupied, the bed is made and looks as if no one's slept in it, or even sat on it, in a long time. A grave feeling tells her that its occupants never left their post, never felt enough peace to sleep. When she blinks, she sees Mason's body flicker at the table, before disappearing again. It would have scared her if this was all new to her.

Without saying anything quite yet, she walks over to the bed, hand brushing up against the soft sheets. It almost feels wrong, messing it up, getting her dirty clothes on it, since its occupant had kept it untouched for so long. To make peace with it, Kisa clears her throat and looks out at Benji.

she feels keenly embarrassed that this is what they've come back to ( here aiyla is, trying to convince the man to stay alive, yet her group seems to be in utter shambles when it comes to their communication skills alone ). in the moments before he finds and reads the note aloud, aiyla wonders if shane would abandon her too ( should kisa and benji never make it back ). she has to force herself to look anywhere but at him because that fear ( that uncertainty ) is surely shining in her eyes.

the mention of her little duo's location has her attention flickering to shane before her chin tilts back and she finds herself swinging her head in that general direction ( as if she'll somehow be capable of seeing anything with darkness creeping in ). "oh." an impromptu sort of plan from the sounds of it then — especially if they've left a note. and as much as she doesn't like the idea of being separated, there really isn't much of a choice at this point. shane's strength is likely waning and she herself is mentally drained.

"we can always head to meet them in the morning. sit — put that leg up a bit if you can. we can look at it again after we eat. i'll take care of everything else until then." it's the type of distraction she needs, so after shuffling her pack closer to him, should he need anything within arms reach, aiyla snatches up the stock pot and trek in the direction of the nearby stream.

when she returns, she sets it beside the fire — prepared to start boiling once necessary. "hows the leg?" she queries — blue hues raising to watch shane acutely ( as if looking for any lies that might escape him ). "been a few hours since you took anything. there's a bottle of over the counter pain killers in my pack. i'll give you a few once you have something in your stomach and then you can try and get some sleep — won't take the pain away, but it'll help. i'll take first watch, that work?" // @decayseason

It's a red flag to be gentle, a death sentence if he's being brutal. In a big group, he wouldn't have thought twice about a couple of people branching off. It'd mean less man power, but also, less mouths to feed. He certainly wouldn't have given a damn if Andrea or Dale set out elsewhere, since they seemed to want to do so that badly (the old man more than Andrea, that's for sure). When you've only got a couple of others to lean on, though, the worst thing is to be left alone. Shane hardly knows the woman, but he feels somewhat bad for her. As cold as he's come to be, there's still a human part of him that sees the situation as fucked up.

It seems, though, like she trusts these people. If she saved his life, that counts for something, don't it—never mind the fact that he was that close to tossing in the towel mere moments before they found each other. And he doesn't really have another choice but to do the same, or help her pick back up if they turn out dead in the morning. As she insists on meeting them come sunrise, he nods, getting the fire started. Those few years of boy scouts have been coming in more handy over the recent months.

When Aiyla disappears into the trees, Shane takes a deep breath. Grateful that they've decided to stay the night because it's the smartest thing to do. It's a shitty situation to be in, no need to make it shittier, and he has a hunch, from the note, that the pair intend on reconnecting with her when they get a chance. If they get a chance. So many people try to play hero, but they forget the kind of world they're living in now.

The warm glow of the fire works like a sleeping aid, and it makes the rock he's sitting on feel like a cloud. As for the leg: "It don't feel much too bad." He's been walking on it, slow, but walking on it. In his mind, if you forget the pain, it'll eventually go away. He lifts his pant leg, assessing the damage. Even though he wants to save the medicine, save it for some poor sack they might come across in the future, it occurs to him that he is indeed that poor sack that she's got to sacrifice such an important resource for. He takes a deep breath, slumping down from the rock onto the dirt. Grabs another granola bar from his pack and takes a crunchy bite.

When Shane realizes Aiyla's been eyeing him, probably looking for any signs of a lie, he looks back at her. Still munching. He wipes crumbs off the corner of his mouth and gives her a nod. It's a piss-poor show of gratitude, but he's not quite at the verbal thank-you stage quite yet. Maybe in the morning, maybe when his leg's better, maybe when he's about to die.

"Wake me up when you get too tired." || @endingsfated

no — no she very much was not okay ( not with how her heart was hammering in her chest like a trapped bird might a cage ). but admitting how rattled the encounter had left her seemed.... weak. this was the new norm these days, wasn't it? pushing out a shuddered, quiet breath, her head dips into a rapid succession of quick nods. "yeah — yeah, i'm ok." physically. mentally, she felt drained. maybe she could convince benji or kisa to take the first watch.

grateful he allows her to breeze by without pushing to far into the emotional or physical state of either of them after their brief encounter with the two walkers, aiyla shoots him a gentle smile before moving to take the lead once more.

she expects to hear something as they grow closer — perhaps the soft exchanging of words she's grown familiar with in recent days, but when the little tent and campfire come into view and there is nothing, something heavy sinks into the pit of her stomach. blue hues flicker about the space ( looking for some sort of clues as to where the pair might have wandered off to — and immediately she can tell that their packs are missing ). that feeling in her gut gets worse because there's no way they would have just left her, right? what would have happened, had she not stumbled upon shane and returned to camp alone?

brow furrowing, she continues into the camp ( the fires embers have long since extinguished and a quick tug at the side of the tents flap reveals that only the basic contents have been left behind ). it's impossible to tell if the pair of them had left willingly or even had any intention of returning. straightening, she stiffly turns to shane ( the smile she's been trying to continue to sport since their little scare noticably tightening ). "kisa has a rifle. they mentioned something about trying to hunt while i was gone," maybe that would excuse their absence, she thinks silently. dusk and dawn are the best times to hunt, at least that's what she thought she'd heard kisa mention once.

"Hm." He can't help but wander about the camp, too, careful not to get too close to their things for fear he might be accused of something he's not up to. Aiyla could be right. They could have gone hunting, but it's concerning that they aren't back yet at this hour. Shane figures this Kisa girl ain't no professional hunter and he can't think of anything that's better to hunt at night in this day and age. It'd be plain stupid if that's really what Aiyla's friends are up to, though he doesn't know them. Maybe they're just stupid.

Circling back to the fire, Shane nods, gaze following Aiyla's directions as she points him toward resources. Something bright white pinned to a wall catches his eye. He nods at it and walks forward, yanking the note from where its haphazardly stuck to the bark. "Looks like they went northwest. Just left a couple hours ago. Prolly 'round the time you found me," he says, passing the note over to her. "Somethin' 'bout some tower."

At this point, its nightfall. If he was still calling the shots, he'd say it's not smart to go after them. According to the note, they'd be back in the morning. But this reformed Shane isn't looking to make such a big decision on behalf of both of them; doesn't wanna rock a boat he's not even sure he's on yet. He'll leave it to Aiyla, he supposes, and he'll cross that bridge when he gets there on whether or not he'll accompany her. (Though, in actuality, Shane's not sure he'd be able to let her go off on her own. His conscience is healing, isn't it?)

While she decides, he heads for the firewood, because he can at least get that set up. He tosses the wood into the pit and, suddenly remembering the pain in his leg, stifles a grunt. The medication helped, but it doesn't change the fact that he's still actively fighting infection. His head's less cloudy, but he needs to take a seat. Shane plants himself on a large rock and looks out at Aiyla, searching her eyes for a solution. Hoping she's on the same wavelength as him that they should stay the night. || @endingsfated

She's eternally grateful that Benji had volunteered to take the corpse out on his own, because the only word she'd registered in the past few seconds since she'd incurred nausea is outside. Normally she would have tried to stay, but the note and the sight of the body and the stench had all concocted a swirling feeling in her stomach and nose and throat. "Thank you," she barely whispers out before she drops the note and rushes outside, barreling through the front door.

Hands reach for the railing as her torso dips forward off the edge, making sure she's on the side where Benji won't be going down the stairs before throwing up however many feet down. Kisa is totally embarrassed, but there's no way she would have made it all the way down these flights of stairs. She shuts her eyes tight and lets it coarse through her body for a minute or so, then when she thinks she's let it all out, straightens up and wipes saliva off her mouth with her sleeve.

She crouches, regaining her breath, taking in the clean air from the outside. Focusing on the breeze helps recenter her, and though the nausea is still there, it's subsided enough for her to keep moving. Eventually she'll forget about it.

When Benji meets her at the top of the stairs on the porch, she offers an apologetic, thin-lipped smile. "Thanks for that." She would have helped, she would have insisted on doing so. But he is the sort of person, and she's always known this about him, to not hesitate for even a second to help. At least, when it comes to her.

There's a moment where he grabs her arm and her skin there is electrified, and simultaneously warmed, by his touch. Brown eyes flit down to his hand on her forearm and then back up at him, and she wonders if he can sense her complete not-knowing of what to do next. These tender moments are hard for Kisa because she knows what they might mean, but she's too afraid to say anything out loud.

Fortunately, Benji turns his attention back to the station and she remembers what they came here for in the first place. "Let's go have a look."

Inside, the station is well-kept despite no one having lived here for quite some time. Kisa walks the perimeter. These things are built like studio apartments, no walls except to separate the bathroom. A double bed is in the corner by the bathroom, with musty-looking sheets and pillows but sheets and pillows nonetheless. Mason kept books and stationery supplies on his nightstand, and a few other manuals and such scattered about on floating shelves. On the other wall is a kitchenette with a plug-in burner, a sink, a microwave, and a smaller fridge. There's a small table for four but it's missing two chairs. One of those chairs is where Mason once sat, and the other is nowhere to be found.

"Anything in the cabinets?" she asks. Food, weapons, anything.

She makes her way toward the gargantuan desk where they found the ranger who manned this station. As expected, the desk is cluttered with things, but most notably, there's a large control panel for communications. There's a radio to speak into and Kisa's sure Mason had been trying to reach someone on it for a while before he lost hope.

She flips through a few pages of a journal next to the radio, skimming through counts of Mason's last days. "He took care of this place," she says. "It's a miracle how nobody's found him up here yet. This last journal entry was dated a few days after it all began."

Then, facing Benji, she offers a resolute nod. "I think this'd be a good place, Benji. For all of us. For now." || @endingsfated

he wants to brush aside her thanks — benji knows, had he not offered removing the corpse ( removing mason ) himself, kisa would have insisted on helping. it's a gruesome task he'd never have wished upon anyone, but out of the two of them, his stomach is stronger ( and he tells himself that it's the least she deserves — he can't offer her basic luxuries any more, so the least he can do, aside from keeping her alive, is trying to make her life just that much easier ).

with her clearance ( once he's certain she's alright ), benji follows her back into the space. it's small — suitable for a singular individual to live there full time. their little trio will be on top of one another and the singular bed will likely prove to be an issue, but its door secure walls, which is more than they could have said previously.

moving toward the little kitchenette, the man finds himself squatting to look through the lower cabinets first. most are filled with essentials — pots, pans, some mismatched silverware and a set of plates. theres miscellaneous spices and cooking oils, which case his lips to quirk slightly. whatever they've managed has either had the generic syrupy taste of canned goods, or been cooked plain. already, he's picturing at least night with fresh meat flavored to perfection and his stomach nearly growls at the thought.

standing, he eyes the dirty dishes in the sink with a touch of distaste ( though he does reach to touch the tap — it groans and sputters for a moment ; a few pitiful drops dislodging before falling silent once more and the man makes a mental note to look into it if they stay longer ). the top cabinets prove far more fruitful then the bottom, and with a mischievous little grin, he snatches one of the boxes, smacks the cabinet shut and moves toward kisa.

with an elaborate bow, he presents the box of kraft mac and cheese ( a childhood staple his mother had fed the pair of them more than once growing up ) with a flourish and grin. "mason must have hit the store before things went south. cabinets look decently full. won't last long between the three of us, but we won't have to ration so horribly. give us time to figure things out. set up a real supply run now that we have a place to bring things back to. water tried to kick on to. might be a generator below or maybe those fancy solar panels? i'd have to look tomorrow." // @decayseason

the fact that he's not only stopped her but is stepping up to take the lead ( to put himself first against any potential threat ) tells aiyla plenty about the type of person shane is. later ( once he's settled in and she's convinced the man not to leave ), she'll confess that this was the moment she'd known she wasn't taking a risk by dragging him back to camp alongside her.

fingers tighten around the grasp she has on her hunting knife — body tensing as shane creeps forward toward the brush. the sudden appearance of the deer startles her ( a shocked bubble of laughter spilling past her lips that are beginning to blossom with an amused smile ). it's an expression that morphs into a mix of horrified terror the moment the walker appears ( a surge of adrenaline coupled with fear rocketing into her veins ). she steps forward — prepared to assist should the need arise ( but also not wanting to get in the way ).

blues hues are so focused upon shane ( upon the sounds and sight before her ) that she nearly misses the undead crawling toward her. the warning comes around the same time something grasps at the bottom of her jeans — a colorful string of shocked cursing escaping her as she stumbles back. she hits the ground hard ( the breath knocked from her lungs and the hunting knife loosening from her grasp — falling just out of reach ).

rolling to her right to grab the misplaced knife, the woman continues to scramble back across the leafy deadfall ( stopping only once she's certain there is enough distance between herself and the crawling corpse ). rolling up until she's sitting, the first swing of the knife is nearly blind — a sick crunching of bone meeting her ears but not stopping the thing and she swings again.

when the movement stops and the forest falls silent save for her heavy breathing, the woman allows herself to flop back momentarily ( blues hues staring at the treetops before squeezing shut — hoping to quell the emotion that is threatening to spill over in the form of tears ). blinking heavily several times, she eventually pushes herself into a seated position once more — hues searching out shane with a huff. "you okay?"

You okay?

It's a silly question to ask, since she had a closer call with the biter than he did. And yet, Aiyla still seems more worried about him than of herself. He wonders if it's a habit that she's had throughout all her life or something that sprouted at the worst possible time. (But he supposes he has to thank her for that quality; without it, he'd be drying out in the pharmacy.)

Still needing to collect his breath, he answers, "Yeah. You?" He watches her as she diligently checks her legs for any bites. Looks for a reaction from her in case she does find something and lies to him about it. He takes her silence, and lack of reaction, as a green light.

Shane stretches a hand out for the girl to take, intent on helping her get back up on her feet. Daylight is almost gone at this point; surely they're that much closer now. "Let's go. Wouldn't wanna keep 'em waiting, and in case other walkers are out here... best to stay together."

When they arrive at the camp, it's clear to Shane that there really are only a few of them scraping by. The supplies are scant and the firepit is small, and there's only one tent (assuming Aiyla packed up her own for her sojourn). If Aiyla was lying and they were a larger group, he would've been able to tell by the sheer size of their base.

It's a wonder how people survive in such small numbers. At the same time, though, he's seen what happens when groups expand. Sometimes, they grow too big for their britches.

Perhaps the most glaring thing that Shane notices, though, is the eerie silence. Lack of walkers is one thing, but lack of people is concerning. It's the evening now; they should be prepping for dinner or maybe even napping in their tents. If they were close by, they would be using flashlights or torches or something that could easily be seen in the dark. To Shane, it just seems like they're gone.

He furrows his brows, glancing over at Aiyla. "Any idea where your people could'a gone?"

Shane doesn't know the dynamic of the group, but he does remember her mentioning they don't know each other too well. Brought together by fate and circumstance, as many people are these days. It's his gut feeling that maybe they ditched her, not knowing if she'd ever come back. (That can happen sometimes, can't it? He'd done the same thing with Sophia, forgone the idea that she could be alive after a few days of her missing. A valiant effort indeed, and yet, for nothing.)

Owls hoot. || @endingsfated

he expected some form of argument from her — some resistance to his otherwise foolish mentality that he should be the one throwing himself into the line of danger first ( and when she doesn't a soft, silent breath of relief escapes him ). nodding his agreement, benji moves into the lead — the blade he carries on his person like a constant companion these days gripped within white knuckles ( poised to address any potential threat they might encounter either as they trek up the otherwise clear stairs to the top of the tower ).

at the top, there is nothing but silence ( and it takes everything in him to prevent a look of hope from coloring his gaze as he flickers her attention toward kisa ). his hilt smacks against the rail at his side as if to prompt anything alive ( or reanimated for that matter ) inside to stir. yet when he pushes his shoulder in through the door, he's meant with nothing but silence and a rancid smell.

the gag the escapes him is instantaneous ( free hand immediately grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to drag it up and over his nose — as if that will somehow help... it doesn't ). benji has, unfortunately, grown intimately familiar with the scent of rotting flesh in recent months, but this is.... something else.

"fuck," he curses the moment the cause of the scent comes into view. the body is unmoving, but it doesn't stop him from taking large strides across the room ( prepared to plunge his knife through the skull until he spots the gruesome entry and exit wound ). again, the queasiness in his stomach threatens to take hold and benji forces his attention away to glance at kisa. his expression must convey his discomfort with the entire situation before he's moving to search the rest of the space ( and only once he's satisfied with the fact that there is no one else present — living or dead — does he take the time to start opening windows in hopes of making the space breathable ).

at the sound of kisa's voice, hues turn to look at her ( momentarily riddled with confusion as to what she's saying until he spots the paper in her grasp ). he remains stock still until she's finished ( heart hammering because how easily could this have been any of their own family members — been them? ).

another soft curse escapes him before a shaky hand runs down his face. what they found is bad... but it could have been so much worse. "step outside and get some air until it clears out in here. i'll... remove mason." he murmurs, knife returning to its sheath at his side as he approaches the corpse with a frown.

hooking his arms beneath the corpses ( mason's ) armpits, benji releases a grunt as he begins to try shuffling the body out the door and down the stairs. perhaps — once aiyla has met back up with them, they can properly bury the man, but for now, he leaves the body near the bottom of the stairs ( hoping the scent will deter other undead and ward off the living ).

She's eternally grateful that Benji had volunteered to take the corpse out on his own, because the only word she'd registered in the past few seconds since she'd incurred nausea is outside. Normally she would have tried to stay, but the note and the sight of the body and the stench had all concocted a swirling feeling in her stomach and nose and throat. "Thank you," she barely whispers out before she drops the note and rushes outside, barreling through the front door.

Hands reach for the railing as her torso dips forward off the edge, making sure she's on the side where Benji won't be going down the stairs before throwing up however many feet down. Kisa is totally embarrassed, but there's no way she would have made it all the way down these flights of stairs. She shuts her eyes tight and lets it coarse through her body for a minute or so, then when she thinks she's let it all out, straightens up and wipes saliva off her mouth with her sleeve.

She crouches, regaining her breath, taking in the clean air from the outside. Focusing on the breeze helps recenter her, and though the nausea is still there, it's subsided enough for her to keep moving. Eventually she'll forget about it.

When Benji meets her at the top of the stairs on the porch, she offers an apologetic, thin-lipped smile. "Thanks for that." She would have helped, she would have insisted on doing so. But he is the sort of person, and she's always known this about him, to not hesitate for even a second to help. At least, when it comes to her.

There's a moment where he grabs her arm and her skin there is electrified, and simultaneously warmed, by his touch. Brown eyes flit down to his hand on her forearm and then back up at him, and she wonders if he can sense her complete not-knowing of what to do next. These tender moments are hard for Kisa because she knows what they might mean, but she's too afraid to say anything out loud.

Fortunately, Benji turns his attention back to the station and she remembers what they came here for in the first place. "Let's go have a look."

Inside, the station is well-kept despite no one having lived here for quite some time. Kisa walks the perimeter. These things are built like studio apartments, no walls except to separate the bathroom. A double bed is in the corner by the bathroom, with musty-looking sheets and pillows but sheets and pillows nonetheless. Mason kept books and stationery supplies on his nightstand, and a few other manuals and such scattered about on floating shelves. On the other wall is a kitchenette with a plug-in burner, a sink, a microwave, and a smaller fridge. There's a small table for four but it's missing two chairs. One of those chairs is where Mason once sat, and the other is nowhere to be found.

"Anything in the cabinets?" she asks. Food, weapons, anything.

She makes her way toward the gargantuan desk where they found the ranger who manned this station. As expected, the desk is cluttered with things, but most notably, there's a large control panel for communications. There's a radio to speak into and Kisa's sure Mason had been trying to reach someone on it for a while before he lost hope.

She flips through a few pages of a journal next to the radio, skimming through counts of Mason's last days. "He took care of this place," she says. "It's a miracle how nobody's found him up here yet. This last journal entry was dated a few days after it all began."

Then, facing Benji, she offers a resolute nod. "I think this'd be a good place, Benji. For all of us. For now." || @endingsfated

the offer to accompany her makes her next step falter and the woman flushes slightly in embarrassment over the fact that it's taken her off guard. when she'd initially proposed going into town, neither of her two original companions had jumped to accompany her when she'd insisted she had the proper knowledge to scavenge through the pharmacy. the fact that they've just met and he's willing to do so is as shocking as it is refreshing. still, she makes no effort to hide the glance she casts him ( blue orbs flickering in the direction of the leg she'd watched him patch up not long ago before moving away once more ).

"tomorrow," she agrees with a nod, casting one last glance over her shoulder before facing the woods before them. she wants to insist that they'll have to see how he's doing ( whether or not a fever returns — and whether or not he'll allow her to push him around like she's already aching to do because he should not be on his feet right now ).

her own laughter bubbles up at the hand shake, lips spreading into the first genuine ( unguarded ) smile she's truly offered him since they've encountered one another. she briefly wonders if the world hadn't crumbled if they ever would have run into one another but the thought leaves as quickly as it comes. "it's nice to meet you, shane walsh."

as the small cluster of buildings that pass as a town disappears from sight, aiyla can't help but hope that kisa and benji have boiled and set aside some water for her return. what's left in the bottle in her bag is minimal and while the gentle breeze is a pleasant relief from the warm air, she can't help but wish for a tall glass of ice water.

she chatters occasionally during their trek. nothing overly personal — vague comments about where she'd been before now ( south carolina and having made her way south to try and meet with her parents in atlanta — she makes no comment on how disastrously that turned out for her, but how quickly she brushes along is likely enough of a tell ), how she'd met up with kisa and benji ( names she offers to him and relays their initial, chance encounter ), and asks a few generic questions in turn about him ( about now — after the world crumbled — because people, she's noticed, are touchy about before ).

He waits for a moment, hand somewhat tight on Aiyla's forearm only to plead for her not to rush in. Once he feels her body settle, he insists wordlessly that she stays back by being the one who takes the first step forward. He unsheathes his hunting knife and raises it, his other arm up, too, in case a biter gets at him. (He's never tested this theory, but he wonders what happens if you're able to cut off the infected limb before it gets to the rest of your system, your brain.)

Perhaps foolishly, he approaches the brush the noise had come from, figuring that if he gets the jump on it rather than the other way around, he'll be able to subdue whatever it is. As Shane is about to swat at the bush with his free hand, something brown and furry with a few pale speckles darts out and off to the side. Its hooves sprint out west, nearly running him over, but he's able to jump back enough.

A deer.

Shane glances over his shoulder at Aiyla with a chuckle, though there's no smile on his face. He's not yet relieved. And that's a good thing because, in the next blink, the sound of snarls emerge from the bush—and, soon after, a walker comes out at Shane unexpectedly.

He's able to grab it by its shoulders and keep it away from lunging at him, his throat. Its maw is blood red from a fresh kill, its teeth are caked in a creature's flesh, either another deer's or another person's. There's no fur, so he doesn't know. Either way, they weren't lucky enough to get away, and walkers win against the living once again.

"Fucker!" He squabbles with it, clawing at whatever spongy rotten flesh is left on it in an effort to keep their distance. Up close, he sees its sunken eyes, cataracted with a kind of blindness to the world. The walker's body is so disintegrated that Shane accidentally dismembers its arm right at its socket, the lack of limb there giving him enough leverage to stab his knife right into its temple.

There's no second to rest, though, because before he knows it, another walker is crawling toward Aiyla, fresh flesh obvious and stark from the rest of the brown earth. It was just recently killed. Horrifyingly, its legs have been torn apart, but whatever else it has left is beelining with all of its strength straight for the girl and her ankles. "Aiyla! Behind you!" Shane lunges forward to help. || @endingsfated

at the recommendation, the man makes adjustments to the note, though his brow furrows for one of two reasons. one — he'd stopped keeping track of the days weeks ( months? ) ago and to find out that kisa continues to keep track is surprising. and two, well, did they expect her to find it later? they'd been fortunate not to run into any large groups of undead, so the only thing that should delay here was a rather poor encounter with the undead or... people.

pushing the thought aside, he turns back to kisa and returns the smile. there is guilt in his gut, but once more he reminds himself that in the end, the woman before him is his priority. and this find... it could change everything. "she'll understand," he tried to reassure ( though he didn't entirely believe the words himself ).

the walk to the tower is one that is done in relative silence. here and there, they exchange little comments ( mostly observations of the flora and fauna that appear to linger within the general area ) and benji busies himself with thinking over how they might make such things last once the months grow colder and the cans of food they possess ( and those within the immediate area dwindle ).

standing beneath the tower, benji removes the large hunting knife from his belt ( his free hand hovering over the pistol at his side ). it seems entirely absent of movement and sound — and when kisa questions if he's spotted anything, the man offers a shake of his head in denial.

The girl slows down to a stop on the path, taking a deep breath through her nose, watching Benji brush past her to take front. Words are at her throat, but she bites her tongue. No matter how much Kisa says she can take care of herself, he will always feel the need to be the first in the line of defense. She's almost certain it stems from how long they've known each other and wanting to preserve that. Sweet in theory, impractical in the apocalypse. There's no sense in arguing about it, though—at least, not right now. They're burning enough daylight as it is.

"Okay," she agrees. "No barging in. But I'll be right behind you." She exchanges a look with him that she hopes tells him she's just as concerned about his safety and well-being as he is about hers. Then, she follows suit. Her palms are buzzing with dehydration, the sort of swollen feeling her skin gets when she's near depleted her energy. There'll be water up in the station, though, she knows it.

A minute or so later, they approach the base of the tower, and if you can believe it, it's much larger up close than it already seems when you're far away. A good perimeter around the tower has been plowed down and filled with gravel and sand. For the most part, it looks untouched, except for the small flower bed nearby with practically diminished crops. If she had to guess, Kisa would say whoever lived at this outpost was here for most of the year; no one else would undertake such an arduous task as gardening.

The pair begin to ascend the stairs, each hollow drop of their boots against the wooden steps echoing in the quiet air. Some creaks here and there, but nothing to suggest the wood has rotten. Kisa holds onto her rifle via the strap on her shoulder while her other hand grabs onto the railing, propelling her forward when the steps get too tiring.

Wordless up to this point, Kisa and Benji arrive at the door, finally. She gulps, exchanging a look with him, hating that he is probably going to insist on going first. When they slowly open the door, they're met with...

silence.

But also, a horrid, rancid smell, a mixture of decaying bodies and something putrid. Kisa immediately coughs, flinching back against the railing of the small porch around the outpost. She holds the back of her hand up against her nose and squeezes her eyes shut, body adjusting ever so slightly to the scent. "What the heck is that?"

They dare to step further into the outpost. Then, there it is, clear as day. A rotten, dead-body-nearly-skeleton, presumably belonging to whoever held this post in the past. There's a moment, after they realize, where Kisa waits for any sounds. If the person's dead, they could come back to life as a biter. But she's heard that if you end it a certain way, that whole reanimation thing won't happen to you...

Dread fills her stomach as they walk ever closer to it. She sees a note on the table right where the body's sitting. An old plate with some spoiled, half-eaten beans is on the table, too. They must have tried to eat one last time, maybe they couldn't stomach it anymore, she doesn't know.

"Dearest Maria," Kisa reads the note aloud.

"If you find this, that means I'm dead. I'm sorry that I couldn't find you and Noah. I was in contact with the southern outpost for a few days but haven't heard anything back since this all started. It's getting worse and worse. I hope we can be together again someday. I'm sorry. Love, Mason."

there is something in her chest that loosens with his agreement ( later — perhaps while the others sleep and she takes her shift on watch, she'll question why there is this unexplainable feeling of relief, but right now she simply excuses it as knowing he'll be cared for with the little trio ). "wouldn't expect anything less. there's plenty we'll be able to have you do," she reassures ( the silent 'because you're not as quick on your feet at present' remains unspoken ).

at the mention of bringing along the rest of the supplies, aiyla gives a sharp nod before her head is turning away ( hiding the small, pleased smile that graces her features ). she'd admittedly not noticed the little drawstring bag despite her perusal of the room several times, but the fact that he has is something she tucks away for later. "you're right — thanks."

once they're outside and he's limping along behind her, she glances over her shoulder at the questions ( pace slowing so they might walk side by side instead ). "best we don't. i lucked out with the first few buildings here and i don't imagine the luck will hold. if we try to look through the rest the sun'll be down before we're back and traveling at night should be a last resort." and in truth, aiyla wasn't certain benji and kisa wouldn't leave her behind if she wasn't back by morning. it would set her back to square one and after everything she'd been through, the woman wasn't keen on starting over again ( she wasn't sure she would survive it, in truth ).

"i'll come back tomorrow," alone, most likely. but given the man beside her was injured, perhaps he could convince the others back into the small town. pick a building to bunker down in for a brief period of time ( at least until their injured companion healed ). "should be about an hour, hour and a half walk maybe?" longer, perhaps, given the man that now trailed along beside her.

Shane lingers for a moment, looking out at the town behind them as the woman speaks. He's not hunting for anything specific—just a sign, maybe, any kind of sign whether they should stay or leave. When it's quiet, and not even a rat scurries across the road, he gazes forward again and continues to follow from behind.

"I can come with," he volunteers himself. Almost certainly her plan is to return here alone, and immediately that doesn't sit right with him. No matter the fact that he's limping; she shouldn't be out here by herself. With such small numbers in her group, he's curious—paranoid?—curious why she wasn't accompanied in the first place.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow. Ain't like we in a rush." With her run at the pharmacy, he figures they're not necessarily hurting for anything else. Food's always a scarcity, but he'd just had his fill of a granola bar. Surely he can go on for a day or so, definitely more, without.

The town disappears behind them as they keep moving forward, with nothing but the cicadas making noise in the world. Shane's leg hurts; it's better, though, to be up and moving on it so he can force it back into shape. Despite what he just told the woman about not being in a hurry, he's missing his full strength. The feeling of wanting to die will no doubt make its return, he thinks. For now, he's got to focus on getting this woman back to her camp safely. Call it a debt.

When she says her name, he can't help but chuckle.

"Shane. Shane Walsh," he adds the last bit like it matters. He catches up one more time just to shake her hand. Her skin feels soft in comparison to his own calloused hands. A flash of a pseudo-memory enters his mind; he knows he has never seen her before in his life but has this image of meeting her in a grocery store. Or at the hardware store. Somewhere normal.

Then, they keep moving.

In the woods, Shane feels more in his element; enjoys the breeze blowing through the trees and onto the back of his neck. His skin feels sticky with sweat and he can't wait to shave off his hair and beard the next chance he gets. At least the Georgia evenings are cool.

The trek to Aiyla's camp had been, for the most part (at least on his end), quiet. If she ever spoke to him, he'd respond in a mutter, or some kind of half-hearted chuckle. He decides it's better if she thinks him standoffish in case she wants to get close to him. He doesn't want to get close to anyone.

the more they discuss the possibility, the more excited he becomes. they needed some little flickering of hope ( some reason to keep going ) and a home? perhaps a temporary one, but the thought of a proper bed and kitchenette was promising. "if theres an atv i can get it up and running so long as we have gasoline. a map of the area would give us a better idea, but easier access to the woods — a source of water or even food," he remarks, feeding into her thoughts. "and if theres a road leading up to it, we could get a car too. fix it right up on the roads if i have to, start figuring out supply running," not wanting to get too far ahead of himself before they've even seen if the little station is outfitted as they hope, benji snaps his jaw shut ( but flashes her a grin all the same ).

the suggestion of hiking there before dark makes him blink back his surprise ( lips parting as if to ask after the deer but quickly realizing that somewhere they can sleep — even if not outfitted as they hope, would take priority ; a roof over their heads and a door to shut out the undead ). the thought of leaving aiyla behind however, causes something in his stomach to twist in distaste. in the end, kisa will always be his number on priority, but the other woman has been there companion for a while.

he's quiet for a moment as he thinks it over. he's got a little pad of paper in his bag still ( used to mark down what they're looking for when the separate for runs as they have today, or even where they've been ) and after a moment, he sighs. "it makes sense. i don't like the idea of separating further but..." rising from his feet, the man moves slightly down the hill to where his pack sits and digs through it for the pen and paper. "just simple? 'aiyla, gone to check tower to northwest'?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at the woman.

Kisa thins her lips, a pang of guilt washing over her as Benji gets up to write the note. She toughens up, though, because she has to, and she's hanging on faith that this decision will prove worth it. The prospect of being leader has never interested her, and she doesn't want this step to make her one. But sooner or later, the trio was going to have to do something to seek shelter before the winter months, or they're going to freeze to death out here.

"Just a little bit more," she answers, trying to put herself in Aiyla's shoes. Though they're not yet deeply bonded, she knows that the other woman is smart. Smarter than any one of them. Still, there's no telling how Aiyla will react to the news that she's basically been stranded. "Add the date. It's the 21st, late afternoon. Write that we'll back in the morning, in case she wants to stay put. I think she'll know to head for us if we're not back by then."

Kisa offers Benji a nervous smile and hopes that he gives her one right back, one perhaps more confident than her own.

"There it is."

Still a good few minutes away from it, Kisa gawks up at the tower. First, with just her eyes, and then, through the scope of her rifle. The tower is a man-made and metal thing, sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of vast, lush green. Though she supposes that's the point; you're supposed to be able to find these things easily if you're lost out in the woods or if you're a first responder team.

The station has big windows to look out and look in. For a minute, she searches for a sign of life up there. If they hear any rustling, any voices... it's game over, time to go back.

Waiting, waiting, waiting...

She sees a large land spotter perched in front of the window pointing their direction. Likely one of those big sky telescopes you can move about to scope the area, which'll be useful for them. Holding her breath, she prays that no one's behind it.

"You see anything?" she asks.

Nothing.

Kisa pulls away from her rifle and looks over at Benji, unable to stifle her grin. She should be more careful and she should temper her expectations, but she can't help but be excited all over again at the notion they could finally have someplace to settle. Even if only for a little while. It makes the guilt from leaving Aiyla (temporarily) behind somewhat more bearable.

she isn't certain what to make of his silence. he's not been much of a talker since he's awoken, and to some extent, aiyla can't necessarily blame him. being friendly rarely gets you anywhere these days ( yet she can't seem to help herself — chattering away as if nothings changed ; it's done her some good since the world went to hell. it's how she joined up with kisa and benji ).

when he takes the supplies for himself, she offers a nod and stands once more — busying herself with looking through the contents of her pack once more and what remains piled up. the space is limited, and if she plans to bring back what's there, she's going to either pick and choose or find a good hiding place to come back for it another day.

at the thanks, blue hues look up at him and a brow rises. he either has plans for himself or he's just... insane. going it alone these days is how you got yourself killed ( but perhaps, given his mental state earlier, that wasn't surprising ). pushing out a breath, aiyla offers a slight nod. "look, you're well within your right to want to be alone," she murmurs, "but i think until that heals up, you'd be better off with someone watching your back. your fever is gone now but there isn't a guarantee it doesn't return."

in the end though, she wasn't going to force him into doing anything, so once again she finds herself crossing the room toward the little pile she's set aside, quickly thumbing through the supplies. grabbing some up, she approaches him once more, brow furrowing. "this one is a painkiller. it's prescription grade and you might have side effects. drowsiness, nausea, sometimes even confusion. take it only if you're safe from the dead just in case. this one is just over the counter stuff. take as the bottle says. try and take both with food if you can," each bottle is shown to him before being placed next to him, "antibiotics - one in the morning and one at night. if you can track the days, two weeks should do it. keep the extra bandages and peroxide. wound should be rewrapped if you bleed through or if it gets dirty and try to keep it as dry as possible."

It used to be that whatever decisions Shane made were for the betterment of the group, whether that be him and Lori and Carl or with the rest of them in mind as they added to their numbers. It's been a long time, really, since he's had to consider his own well-being. What he wants, what he thinks would be good for him. Lori had long steered his mind, which was driven by lust but above all things, love. Without her, it's embarrassing, but he is at a loss for what to do with himself besides survive. And with the will to do even that slowly withering away, he comes to wonder...

If only there's something that can tell him the future. All the choices to make, the shots to call, the people to go with and the people to leave behind, all the right things to do to cause the least amount of hurt to himself or to others. The truth is, and he should swallow this pill by now if he hasn't, there is no pattern and tomorrow ain't guaranteed.

Wordless, he listens to the woman's directions. She sounds like someone who used to work in health care, since such scrupulous directions are hard to give if you're a bullshitter. Shane himself has taken the first aid (and a little bit beyond) classes you need to have to get into the force, but he's no expert on when to take medication and how often. Just reads the pill bottle, mostly. She reminds him of Hershel; the way he saved Carl was unlike any other feat that a human could accomplish.

(If it wasn't for Otis...)

Soon, the rattling of supplies going into a bag pull him out of his train of thought, ever growing darker. The woman is saying something again and it feels exactly like now or never, because it is. His mouth opens up slightly as if to say something as he watches her leave a pile behind because she has no other choice. A quick glance to the side and he spots a bag. Not as big as hers, more a drawstring than hiker's gear. But it, and what's left in this pharmacy, is more than what Shane has now and before, which was a knife and a messenger bag with an empty water bottle and a dented can of green beans. He had to leave that behind...

"I'll go," he says, like he's giving into her. "Like you said, only 'til I'm better. But I ain't gonna be dead weight. I'll be pullin' my own." With a grunt, he stands up, rolling his pant leg over his wound before walking over to the drawstring bag he saw hanging. He grabs what he can of what she'd left behind, with room to take other things.

"If you're gonna be goin' back to a group, and if you wanna have a chance... you need this stuff more than you think."

Outside, only about an hour of sunshine is left. Shane limps behind as the woman leads the way, the knife in his holster bobbing up against his hip. He so misses a pistol being there, but this'll do for now.

When she's at a close enough distance, he asks, "How far away's your camp? Are we checkin' out the rest'a town before we go back there?" || @endingsfated