"It ain't much, but it could be helpful later on," Beth shrugged nonchalantly, hurriedly putting her items into the bedazzled Cinderella backpack that had been tossed at her. Once that task was done, she slipped the mini-straps over her shoulders and awaited for Daryl's next instructions. It was apparent he was the leader right now. He seemed to not instantly throw her map in the street, so the young teen took that as a good sign.
"We should get going then." She also did not want to be around when the walkers decided to return to their common resting place; the explosion from the prison was probably what drew them away in the first place. Daryl began to walk and Beth wasted no time in picking up a stride behind him, not really wishing to get left behind anyway.
Their journey, hopefully towards salvation, was soaked in an eerie quietness. Daryl Dixon was known to turn his nose up at a conversation, but Beth didn't realize that she would literally be itching halfway through for a simple sentence. The only sounds that emitted from either counterparts were the humble grunts and sneers as they each had to take down a few of the undead as they crossed their path. Minutes stretched into hours and hours seemed to stretch into many more hours-- the blonde was beginning to think that were just walking for the fun of it, momentarily stopping to take out their pain and feelings of loss out on the walkers. She was beginning to work on auto-pilot again, sometimes dropping her head in an attempt at some shut-eye as they walked, which wasn't the most comfortable or safe thing to do.
As the silhouette of the sun began to linger above the trees, Beth had barely enough time to stop when Daryl planted his feet into the soil and took a minute or two to read the sign up ahead.
A Sheriff's Station? A place to rest? A wave of relief crashed against the young girl, practically sending her onto the ground in defeat. There was only so much walking a girl could do. Daryl gave his impromptu single to follow and Beth complied, the handle of her Bowie knife back into her hand and the cracking of glass right beneath her boots.
As the two entered the broken down Station, the first thing Beth noticed was the array of electronics that littered the floor in broken clumps. Printers, scanners, telephones-- the whole nine yards, were torn to pieces and thrown about as if someone had been looking for something or the Station had simply had a round with a few bad scavengers. There didn't seem to be any of the undead in sight, thank God. It looked like a common law enforcement establishment: mahogany desks upturned and beat, chairs left to rot from the muggy weather, animal nests and uneaten dinners cramped into the corners. The place was not somewhere that they should be holing in for the night, but Beth wasn't about to begin another trek down the Georgia for something better when there most likely wouldn't be anything
better.
"Over here," she whispered to Daryl, keeping her voice low as another sound was heard behind a half busted door on one side of the small station. She took the lead this time, nudging the door open slightly with her boot and preparing for anything that could come her way, except the only thing that could even attempt an attack was stuck below one of the metal lockers that held the Sherriff's guns.
Beth let out a sigh, crouching down to plow her knife into the skull of the walker until it's gurgles subsided and it lay without motion.
"The place looks pretty ransacked." She shrugged, looking over at her comrade before beginning her search for anything useful. It seemed like they were pretty safe.