Evangeline Millie Winchester (Evie, to everyone who doesn't want to get shot) is the third Winchester sibling. She's the middle child, the one who keeps the brothers together. Or, she was. Until Sam bailed and left her and Dean to pick up the pieces...
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November 27, 2008
Senoia, Georgia
The Woods
Merle led us through the trees. He had the most knowledge of the woods out of all of us, seeing as he grew up in the backwoods of Georgia, and knew how to hunt, track, and all that good stuff. He said he wasn't sure we were going in the right direction, but I knew that if we got close enough, he'd find the trail.
"What if it's a group?" I asked the question I had been pondering for the past half-hour of us walking through the woods. Rick glanced back at me from his spot in front of me, but behind Merle, and I could hear Dean huffing along behind me. He hates walking through the woods, almost as much as he hates heights.
"Then... we see if they're nice, and want to join us. If not, we leave 'em be, and hope whoever it is that let off that shot is okay." Rick answered, and I eyed the man, still dressed in his Sheriff's uniform, and I couldn't help but grimace.
"And if they're not friendly? If they attack us?" I asked, and I noticed Merle's shoulders tense up in front of us, as he stared at the ground like it was a naked woman, so focused and invested in what he was doing.
"Than... I don't know. We fight back I guess." He answered, but I could tell he didn't like the thought of that. We hadn't had any contact with any groups since all this started, and I was afraid that when we did, it wouldn't be a happy encounter. I almost wanted to shove everyone onto a boat and sail us down to Antartica. Yeah, it'd be cold. But at least there wouldn't be any zombies and we'd be alone. Though, there wouldn't be really any food... and we'd probably freeze to death unless we happened to stumble on one of those scientific bases down there.
And, I don't know if the abominable snowman is real, but if he is, I bet you he lives in Antartica.
"Woah. Hold up." Merle grunted, and we all froze as he bent down to look at something on the ground.
"Deer tracks. And that right there are some human tracks. Could be a walker, but based on the steady pattern, this looks like a hunter. I'd reckon that shot we heard was someone hunting this deer." Merle explained, pointing out some some indents in the dirt that I honestly thought just looked like nothing. Dirt. Nothing.
"Well... can you follow the trail? So we can make sure nobody is hurt?" Rick asked, looking almost a little unsure of himself, but Merle nodded, and started walking off, a lot more confident than he seemed earlier. He only checked the ground every few feet, but we were all silent behind him. It didn't take long to get to the end of the trail, where a large blood splatter remained, as well as about ten walkers who were all sniffing anxiously at the air, desperately trying to track whatever it was that left that huge bloodstain. Hopefully it was the deer.
It took us four a few minutes to take out the walkers, and then Merle was inspecting the ground, looking for any more tracks.
"Got some tracks over here. They're human, think they're alive, and they got a little bit of blood trailing after them. Like they were bleeding, or they're carrying something that's bleeding." Merle said gruffly, pointing off towards what looked like, possibly, a break in the trees.
"Well... no reason to stop now." Dean said calmly, and Rick nodded, so Merle walked off, leading us behind him. We walked for about five more minutes before reaching a break in the trees, where we hesitated, and peered out through the gaps in the leaves.
There was a field spread out in front of us, and further out, was a pretty little farmhouse, surrounded by a brown wooden fence, and cows were grabbing in the field around us, and I could barely see the fence that was keeping the large animals protected from the walkers. But... now that I think about it... I don't even see any walkers. Anywhere.
How in the hell...
I didn't get the chance to think about it, because Rick was breaking out of the tree line, and marching swiftly up to the farmhouse, leaving the rest of us to fumble around trying to catch up with him.
"Rick! Wait! Rick!" I whisper-yelled, trying to get him to turn around, but it was too late.
I watched, horrified as two men stepped out onto the porch of the house. One was a tall, overweight man, holding a shotgun, with bloodstains on the shoulder of his overalls, and I knew he was the one we had been tracking.
The other, was an elderly gentleman, wearing jeans and a button up shirt, looking like a typical farmer, but neither of them looked welcoming.
