What was it about silent nights that freaked her out? Michonne had left hours ago, scavenging for what ever food or supplies she could find. Andrea was used to listening to the groaning of the undead, Walkers wandering by their hideout.
      Tonight, it was silent. Quiet. At the risk of sounding cliché, too quiet.
 Weakly, still ill despite both her and Michonne's best efforts, she stood. Leaning against the wall for support, for if she tried to stand on her own she knew she'd fall. Hesitantly taking steps towards the large, industrial doors Michonne had locked her behind, she pressed against the cool metal, sighing in relief as it cooled her fever, before resting her ear against it.
           As if she could hear anything through that.
  But the Walkers were quiet, and Andrea didn't like that. Sure, they could have moved on. But they had seen her and her savior when they entered town. They knew there was food nearby, they just didn't know where. And this silence was unsettling. Where were they?
   She contemplated pulling open the door, taking a risk that could cost her her life but Andrea was curious. She wanted to know what was going on out there. Before she could do anything, a slam against the door startled her. Stumbling backwards, she grasped blindly for a weapon, any weapon, and found a crow bar. Close enough. Another slam, and the door unhinged, pulling sideways as someone -- notably not Michonne -- stumbled through. Crowbar raised, albeit weakly, Andrea cleared her throat, wincing at the croak and the pain it brought. "Who are you?" It was supposed to sound like a demand, like a threat --Â
       -- she ended up sounding like a child. Fan-tastic.
