away."
"What's wrong?" Wen asked. "You hurt?"
"No. I'm fine. Please leave me alone."
Her shoulders trembled, and she took quick intakes of
breath, which proved she was anything but all right. Trace couldn't leave her
in this state.
He looked over at Wen. "Why don't you go back to
keeping an eye out? I'm going to sit with Red for a minute."
Wen gave him a thoughtful nod before disappearing with the
lantern, leaving them shrouded in darkness.
"Mind if I come in?" Trace made no move to enter
the wagon without her permission. He wanted to comfort her, but she slept with
guns, and he didn't want to get shot in the head for his effort.
"I'm okay." Her entire body shook and gave away the
lie. "Please just go. I'm fine. Really."
"You're not fine. Can I come in?"
"I'd rather you didn't."
He pulled the canvas flap to the side and climbed into the
wagon. "You didn't say no."
"I'm saying no now." Red swallowed, her face
hidden behind damp curls. She looked so young and vulnerable, nothing like the
tough, mouthy girl he'd come to know. She did have a soft side after all.
He smiled and shook his head in defiance. "It's a
little too late. I'm already inside." He knelt down and reached out to
brush his thumb over her wet cheek, wiping away a trail of tears. Definitely
soft.
For some reason, this act had the opposite effect than he intended;
it made her cry even more, and he questioned whether or not he'd done the right
thing by touching her. The more she tried to pull herself together, the more
tears fell, and crying women always left him confused and at a loss. Should he
hug 'em? Leave 'em alone?
"Hey." He decided on the former, pulled her toward
him, and held her. "It's okay. Cry all you want."
He expected her to push him away, and he would've let go had
she done so, but she didn't. Instead, she folded her body into his and buried
her face in his neck, her warm tears wetting his skin. It surprised him, but he
didn't mind. Not at all.
She smelled real nice, too. Like flowers. He didn't mention
this, figuring it wasn't the time for compliments. Even so, he couldn't help
but lower his face into her hair and audibly breathe the scent in. He hadn't
smelled lavender in a long time, and it smelled amazing on her.
Her tears slowed in their progression, and she relaxed her
body against his. When she tried to free herself from his hold, he refused to
let go. "No. You need this."
She wove her arms around his waist and wet his neck with her
tears once again. He couldn't help but wonder what caused her to cry like this.
A nightmare couldn't have caused so many tears. There must be something else,
but this wasn't the time to ask.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so
sorry."
"Don't be."
After he answered, Trace realized she wasn't apologizing to
him.
Chapter 7 – KilKenny Cats
The early morning light filtered through the holes in the
canvas covering the wagon. Red knew she should climb from the warmth of her bed
and join the men outside. They needed to prepare breakfast, pack their things,
and start pressing onward. Nonetheless, she couldn't find the will to extract
herself from the comfort of the down-filled blanket that enveloped her.
Someone pulled back the canvas flap, and she assumed Cowboy
had come to check on her once more. He'd kept tabs on her throughout the night
and insisted she didn't need to take a turn keeping watch. After last night,
she decided to be more tolerant of him. She had no idea what to think about it,
and hoped he didn't read too much into the way she behaved.
Yet, as the canvas flap opened, her anticipation betrayed a
truth she fought hard to ignore; she liked him. And she hadn't liked anyone in
a very long time.
Red sat up, but her smile quickly faded when the partial
visage of a woman peered in at her. The zombie's lips and gums pulled to one
side and revealed the grotesque, viscous inner workings of its jaw and
flickering tongue. It thrashed its arms in a mad attempt to grab her and
growled in
"What's wrong?" Wen asked. "You hurt?"
"No. I'm fine. Please leave me alone."
Her shoulders trembled, and she took quick intakes of
breath, which proved she was anything but all right. Trace couldn't leave her
in this state.
He looked over at Wen. "Why don't you go back to
keeping an eye out? I'm going to sit with Red for a minute."
Wen gave him a thoughtful nod before disappearing with the
lantern, leaving them shrouded in darkness.
"Mind if I come in?" Trace made no move to enter
the wagon without her permission. He wanted to comfort her, but she slept with
guns, and he didn't want to get shot in the head for his effort.
"I'm okay." Her entire body shook and gave away the
lie. "Please just go. I'm fine. Really."
"You're not fine. Can I come in?"
"I'd rather you didn't."
He pulled the canvas flap to the side and climbed into the
wagon. "You didn't say no."
"I'm saying no now." Red swallowed, her face
hidden behind damp curls. She looked so young and vulnerable, nothing like the
tough, mouthy girl he'd come to know. She did have a soft side after all.
He smiled and shook his head in defiance. "It's a
little too late. I'm already inside." He knelt down and reached out to
brush his thumb over her wet cheek, wiping away a trail of tears. Definitely
soft.
For some reason, this act had the opposite effect than he intended;
it made her cry even more, and he questioned whether or not he'd done the right
thing by touching her. The more she tried to pull herself together, the more
tears fell, and crying women always left him confused and at a loss. Should he
hug 'em? Leave 'em alone?
"Hey." He decided on the former, pulled her toward
him, and held her. "It's okay. Cry all you want."
He expected her to push him away, and he would've let go had
she done so, but she didn't. Instead, she folded her body into his and buried
her face in his neck, her warm tears wetting his skin. It surprised him, but he
didn't mind. Not at all.
She smelled real nice, too. Like flowers. He didn't mention
this, figuring it wasn't the time for compliments. Even so, he couldn't help
but lower his face into her hair and audibly breathe the scent in. He hadn't
smelled lavender in a long time, and it smelled amazing on her.
Her tears slowed in their progression, and she relaxed her
body against his. When she tried to free herself from his hold, he refused to
let go. "No. You need this."
She wove her arms around his waist and wet his neck with her
tears once again. He couldn't help but wonder what caused her to cry like this.
A nightmare couldn't have caused so many tears. There must be something else,
but this wasn't the time to ask.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so
sorry."
"Don't be."
After he answered, Trace realized she wasn't apologizing to
him.
Chapter 7 – KilKenny Cats
The early morning light filtered through the holes in the
canvas covering the wagon. Red knew she should climb from the warmth of her bed
and join the men outside. They needed to prepare breakfast, pack their things,
and start pressing onward. Nonetheless, she couldn't find the will to extract
herself from the comfort of the down-filled blanket that enveloped her.
Someone pulled back the canvas flap, and she assumed Cowboy
had come to check on her once more. He'd kept tabs on her throughout the night
and insisted she didn't need to take a turn keeping watch. After last night,
she decided to be more tolerant of him. She had no idea what to think about it,
and hoped he didn't read too much into the way she behaved.
Yet, as the canvas flap opened, her anticipation betrayed a
truth she fought hard to ignore; she liked him. And she hadn't liked anyone in
a very long time.
Red sat up, but her smile quickly faded when the partial
visage of a woman peered in at her. The zombie's lips and gums pulled to one
side and revealed the grotesque, viscous inner workings of its jaw and
flickering tongue. It thrashed its arms in a mad attempt to grab her and
growled in
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