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𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗋
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
𝟩𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋, 𝟤𝟢𝟣𝟣 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗌
The soft breeze caressed the teenage girl like a feather in the wind, her eyes both tired and focused on the markings on the trees, whether it be of the Ringleader's group or the Terminus survivors, she followed it like a moth drawn to a flame.
Mackenzie knew she was closing in on whoever it may be. The footsteps in the mud were fresher, and the small inconsistent drops of blood were still wet to the touch. Snapped branches on bushes swayed in the wind, the breeze not heavy enough to break the twig from its stem.
The girl bought her radio to her lips, and unlike the day before, she delivered news the kids most definitely would hate, "Birdies, come in," she talked into the radio.
"Finch to Eagle," Dakota responded over the radio.
"I won't be coming home tonight," she explained, "I'm closing in on the targets and the darkness will provide cover."
"Are you sure you can handle it?" he asked instead of arguing, knowing that there was no way to persuade her otherwise when her mind was set, "I mean -you're still injured," he tried to express his concern.
"I'd fight one-legged and fingerless for you lot," she retorted, "And I promise that I will not leave you alone. I am not our parents and I am not Felton or Kaitlyn or Jaye. I'm not Brodie or Georgie. I'm not going to die when I know the people I love are waiting for me," she expressed her love the best way she knew how; by ensuring that she wouldn't be like the people that didn't love them enough to stay or listen.
"The second shit hits the fan, run. Promise me you'll run," Dakota urged some sort of assurance from her, not knowing if they'd truly survive without her, despite everything she had taught them from the beginning of the wasted world.
"Language Kota, you never know which young ears are listening on your end," Mack let out a cough to slightly muffle her voice as she mentioned, "Payton," she coughed again as she bent to the ground and picked up a fallen polaroid. Under closer examination, Mack realised that it was a blonde girl with one of the people from the Ringleader's group, the brunette woman that was really close to Glenn once reunited outside the fallen gates of Terminus.
"Be safe," Dakota mumbled through the static of the radio.
"I'll see you soon, darling," Mack smiled lightly as she flicked her radio's volume down to the minimum and continued in her search along the trail for any hints of activity.
As the darkness coated the skies like the paint on her nails, chipped and freckled, Mack pulled a flashlight from her bag to examine the pile of blood that sat before her, a patch that she only spotted thanks to the scattered stars. Her pinky finger dipped into the blood as she pulled it to her face, millimetres from her nose as she sniffed the crimson substance; it was human, lacking that prominent rotting smell that the creepy crawlers obtained.
