Chapter Two
As We Ran

Rose

Monty was her pride and joy. With soft eyes that you could stare into forever, falling, but at the same time so still, they reflected promise. A slender profile, a healthy mane, a heart made of love, and a gorgeous chestnut coat that shone against the brightest of suns, Monty was always there for her in the darkest of days. And there seemed to be a lot more of them now. When her world felt lonely, when it felt like her whole life was a hurricane in an endless sea, he would reassure her that they were both in this world together and as long as he was there beside her, she would be okay. And she was, for the most part.

Life was different now, and it had taken her a while to utterly understand the changes. The loss of lives around her, of people she cared about, of a future that had been robbed from her. It was tough to think of anything else, and it was tough to not dwell on what could have been. Life—as much as it had changed—had to go on, and she was going to do everything in her power to see another day.

Carol had been a surprise to find that day. Monty had hesitated but she had urged him to lead on; he was so used to be surrounded by the dead that to smell a living human was almost unsettling. Rose had watched quietly as the exchange between the two strangers, knowing she needed to wait before she intervened. If she intervened too soon, either her or Monty would be dead. And she was not going to have that. As soon as she heard his gun cocking, she knew to strike and take out the threat.

The bullet had ripped through the back of his head, slicing through his brain, and destroying it instantly. She needed to make her bullets count.

Carol had been less than pleased at surviving another day which only seemed to unsettle Rose more than killing the man. She saw the look of utter defeat in the woman's eyes. She had died a long time ago; and she knew that feeling all too well.

As Carol sat behind her on Monty, she knew she had put herself in the line of fire. The woman—as much as she was worthy of saving—was dangerous in every sense. She was not afraid of death, and that made her invincible and reckless. Rose had met many of people like that before, and it never ended well.

"How long have you been at the old prison for?" Rose asked, trying to ease Carol into a conversation. "I must say, if I wasn't on my own with Monty here, I would've found someplace long term."

Carol was silent. "Why haven't you?"

"I guess I'm scared that it would be taken away from me," Rose shrugged. "Better not to have something you rely on only to lose it."

"That isn't a way to live," Carol whispered, feeling empathy for the woman. "We've been there around three months, I think. It took us a while to clear that place out enough to make it liveable."

Rose simply nodded. "I'm glad you have someplace to go home to. Those things are hard to find now."

They did not need to say anything more as Monty carried them to the prison. Carol allowed herself to stare out at the greenery that surrounded them, taking them away from the empty and deserted town that seemed too dusty and as if it were decaying around them. It was a long way back, but with Monty's long and fast strides, the prison soon came into view. Monty slowed down with a small tap from Rose's heel on his side, and he slowly trotted towards the metal fence where a group of people were beginning to approach the fence.

Rose slid off Monty and held out a hand for Carol so that she was able to ease her off without causing more injuries to her leg. A man with light brown hair combed back approached them having seen the blood-soaked jeans and helped her ease Carol to her feet.

"We've been looking for you all over," he said, concern coating his voice. "What happened to you?"

"I was shot in the leg when getting supplies," Carol said simply, her gaze flicking to Rose who knew the truth. "Rose, here… she helped me."

Rose could feel the man's stare on her as she continued looking at Carol. She moved her gaze to the man whose blue eyes—intense in its stare—was zoned in on her. "It was nothing," Rose was quick to say. "I was just passing through when I saw them."

"Well, thank you," the man said, extending a hand out to her. Rose stared at it for a moment before she took it in her own and gave it a shake. Another man approached them then, and Rose could tell from the concern to his face that Carol meant a lot to these people which only seemed to make Carol's circumstances even more heart-breaking.

His gaze was just as intense as the first man, but there was a sense of understanding in his demeanour as he all but swept her off her feet and carried her into the prison.

Rose remained beside Monty and stroked his long mane, before pulling out an apple from her bag for him. She took a small bite in an attempt to calm the hunger pains in her stomach before offering it to him. He took it gratefully and was crunching on its crispness as she mounted him again. She was aware of the stares on her from the small group of people huddled by the gate. The first man who had an air of authority about him could not seem to take his eyes off her. He slowly approached her and she was aware of his gun holster attached to his hip; her own mind allowing her to feel the heaviness of her own gun attached to her hip. Just in case she needed to defend herself.

"She's beautiful," he said, inching closer to stroke Monty.

Monty blew a raspberry, as if offended.

"She's a he," Rose corrected him. "And I think you might've offended him."

Monty neighed which caused Rose to chuckle and pat the side of his neck.

"In that case, I apologise," the man said, reaching his hand out to pet her horse. "May I?"

"Sure," Rose said, allowing him permission to stroke Monty.

He patted Monty on his side, receiving a raspberry in return. "I'm Rick," he said. "Thank you for bringing her home to us."

Rose bowed her head. "She's going to be alright."

"Yeah, she is," Rick agreed, a look of sadness in his eyes. "Carol… she's been though a lot."

"I can see it in her eyes," Rose whispered, her gaze falling on the man carrying her into the prison. "She's haunted by either what she's seen or what she's done, I can't tell which one."

"The former," Rick told her, and Rose lowered her gaze to the ground. "Was she really ambushed?"

"What do you mean?"

Rick turned to look at the others who had followed after Carol and the other man, except for a young boy and a pregnant woman. He met her gaze again and lowered his voice. "I just need to make sure she ain't a danger to herself, if you know what I mean."

"There was a man who ambushed her, yes," Rose told him, furrowing her brow. "Everyone is a danger to themselves, sir."

"Some more than others."

"You ain't wrong there," Rose nodded in agreement. She turned her gaze upwards at the sky, noticing the sun lowering in the distance. She had less than an hour to find a place to set up for the night, and she was running out of time. "I'll be on my way now. Make sure you look after her, okay? She… needs ya'll more than ever now."

Rick knew the true meaning to what she meant and offered her an understanding nod. "For saving her life, I can offer you and Monty here a place to stay for a while. We're always grateful to those who help one of our own."

Monty had already turned Rose around, as if making the decision for her. "I'm not sure about that, sir," she said with a sigh. "Take care of yourselves."

"You, too," Rick nodded though she did not stick around to hear him as she galloped away.

Rose felt the breeze in her hair as Monty raced through the empty space. The thundering of hooves split the silence as the stallion galloped through the wonderfully beautiful landscape. The wind wisped his mane into the air like flames. His muscles rippled from under his groomed pelt and his powerful legs, as they propelled them further away from the prison and away from a group who had not defended themselves instantly against her, he carried her to safety as he powered over the land. He slowed when they came to a clearing, his ears pricked as he moved swiftly through bushes and branches, his powerful limbs tearing into barren earth.

The day had begun warm with a hint of a breeze in the air, and it was ending with a bitterly cold wind that bit at their heels and any skin not covered. Rose lifted her scarf over her mouth as Monty led them onto an empty farm. The farmhouse stood proud in the distance, and Rose allowed Monty to trot around for a little while. She dismounted him, placing his rope halter over a gate post.

She pulled her gun out of its holster, and tapped the sheath of her knife, as she looked over the house. She moved through the house with a cautious stance; any sound, any creak, any movement, she believed to have been made, she reacted immediately. The house had stood empty for some time, it seemed. There was no sign of anyone living there and that suited her fine.

The barn was empty, too. And she led Monty inside the barn, closing the door on the thunderous clouds above them, deeming the barn good enough for the night. She ate in silence, pulling out another apple from her bag and feeding it to Monty to accepted with a crunch. She rested her body against the wooden wall of the barn as she planned her day for tomorrow. She would go in search of supplies from the house early the next day, and depending on the weather, they would be back on the road as early as possible.

It was a hard life, but she knew she had it easier than some. Whilst others joined groups and tried to navigate their way through life as best as they could, some people were alone and did not have much luck finding other people. Some people you stumbled across could be trusted, and others not so much. It was not luck; this new world did not seem to have time for that anymore.

There were times in her life where she could have been part of a group. And she had been, a long time ago. She could not rely on other people to protect her. She could not have her life depend on whether someone was willing to put a bullet in another person's head in order to save her. And for Rose, that was important. She had been unable to find a group—let alone a person—willingly protect her without protecting themselves first. And there had been many times when she had seen her death in that split second, where she saw their true intentions, and she understood that she could not depend on another person.

Monty was different though. She had shown him respect and he had given her his in return. She had saved him from a sad ending of starvation and had given him another chance, and he had been loyal to her ever since. He gave her a reason to keep going; and in a way, she depended on him.

The wind was beginning to batter against the wooden frame of the barn, and she was sure the roof was going to fly away. She lowered Monty to the ground, settling him down for the night, before she pulled out the blanket from her bag and used her bag as a pillow.

Sleep was hard to come by now, but she never gave in. A couple of hours here and there was all she needed, and as sleep took her away for a short while, she dreamed of a life differently to this one she was currently living. One that had been real—heartbreakingly real—and one that had been ripped from her grasp before she was genuinely ready to bid goodbye to that part of her life.

She had seen the same pain in Carol that she had seen in herself. And if she could fight her way through the pain and heartache, she had no doubt that Carol would be able to fight her out of it. She had something that Rose did not, and that was people who cared about her.

Monty nudged her with his nose, reminding her that he was there. And that was all that she needed to drift off to sleep.

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