Scarlett (Rick Grimes/OC)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

There ain't much talkin' as we ride back to the prison on our horses. Daryl leads the pack, Michonne at his side, and Rick and I ride side by side behind them. It's gettin' dark and it's gettin' cold, and I ain't got a proper coat really, so I'm tryin' to hide how bad I'm shiverin'. I only got on two sweaters layers over each other- basically all the warm clothes I got ta' my name- so it's pretty bad.

A breeze rolls through and rustles the dead leaves on the ground quietly. I shiver somethin' fierce, but I try with all my might ta' hide it, grippin' my reins tighter and keepin' my eyes dead ahead. I feel eyes on my though, and when I sneak a glance sideways, Rick is eyein' me.

"Cold?" he asks. I shake my head and put on a weak smile.

"No," I say confidently. I know I ain't foolin' nobody though, and not a beat later does Rick calls fer everyone ta' slow up.

Michonne and Daryl watch Rick curiously as he hops down off his horse and slides off his coat. He throws it over my horses back and looks at me. I notice that his eyes are bright blue.

"I ain't puttin' that on," I say evenly, lookin' him up and down. "It's yours. If I wear it, you'll freeze ta' death." I cock an eyebrow at Rick insistently, but he ain't swayed. He cocks one right back and gets back on his horse. We start movin' again.

"I'll be fine. I can't let a lady freeze ta' death when I have a perfectly good coat," Rick argues, smilin' at me.

"If it'll help you sleep tonight, I'll putcha' coat on," I say, finally givin' in, but only 'cause I'm cold as hell. I slide the thing on quickly, nearly mewlin' in content when I find that it's still warm from Rick wearin' it. I already feel warmer.

"Stubborn," Daryl laughs from in front of us. I think I hear Michonne chuckle to herself as well.

"Which one of us?" Rick asks, grinnin'.

"Both a' ya'," Daryl mutters. Michonne and Daryl bust into laughter, and Rick and I kinda exchange a sheepish grin.

These people ain't so bad, I decide.

{~~~}

The prison is a typical prison. Grey concrete watchtowers, razor wire fences, a prison yard, offices, and cellblocks. The community has converted everything into somethin' new though. The watchtowers still serve the same purpose, but the people no longer watch fer people escapin'- they watch fer walkers tryin' ta' come in. The fences have quite a few walkers crowdin' up against 'em, but they've even thought of a way ta' control that. People dot the fences from the inside and stab at walkers with pipes and knives, which is the best they can probably do, given the lack a' supplies. The prison yard has been converted into a common area fer everyone ta' eat and gather in. The cellblocks are being put ta' use as housing, and a couples and families have converted the offices into bedroom fer privacy.

It ain't a bad setup, if ya' ask me. They got protection, they got housing, they got crops planted, and they got animals. That's about as good as it gets.

There're a couple people watin' ta' meet us at the gates. A dark-haired, lanky fourteen-year-old that's wearin' a sheriff's hat and holdin' a baby girl stands off ta' one side, a Santa Claus look-alike stands next ta' him, supported by a cane. Next ta' him is a squatty lookin' man with black hair and dark skin. Upon closer inspection, he seems ta' be Indian, meanin' the ones from Asia.

The lanky kid grins when Rick slides off his horse, comin' over quickly. Rick grins back and gives the kid a squeeze, snatchin' the hat off his head and rufflin' his hair before kissin' him and the baby on the head. The little girl gurgles happily and grins toothlessly. She's a cute little thing, all bundled in a coat and such, little boots on her feet and everything. They must be Rick's kids. I wonder where his wife is...