A forty-eight-kilometer trip would have been nothing before the apocalypse. Now, it felt endless.
The wheels crushed over snow and ice on the road, making a dull, grating sound.
In the truck bed, people curled up together, relying on one another's body heat to stay warm.
Most of the children had fallen asleep, their faces still marked with tear tracks and frostbite.
The adults stayed awake, staring at the barren world of ice and snow flashing past outside, their hearts filled with confusion and fear over what lay ahead.
And yet, unlike any of their previous fearful migrations, this time they were safe.
In the cab of every truck, a fully armed team member sat beside the driver.
In every truck bed, another armed team member had been stationed as both guard and silent supervisor, making sure nothing unexpected happened during the trip.
That long-lost feeling of being protected by a powerful force quietly gave many of them an indescribable sense of peace beneath their unease.
Maya drove the lead vehicle, while Shane brought up the rear in the last truck.
In the rear truck bed, Michonne sat near the tailgate.
Her back rested against the side of the truck bed, her legs slightly bent. Her katana leaned within easy reach, and she held a well-maintained rifle in her hands.
Her thick cold-weather mask had been pulled down beneath her chin, revealing her tightly pressed, full lips. Her gaze was calm and still, as if the other people in the truck bed had nothing to do with her.
Around a dozen people were packed into the truck bed, occasionally exchanging whispers.
Among them, one gaze rested openly on Michonne.
Leo's sister, Ella, was wrapped in an old patched coat that was clearly too large for her. Her small face was pale, but her big eyes were unusually bright.
At that moment, Ella was staring at Michonne without blinking, especially at the blade at her waist and the gun in her hands.
Michonne had noticed that stare long ago.
She turned her head slightly and looked out at the mountains and woods receding behind them, hoping that silent refusal would make the little girl back off.
But Ella's gaze stubbornly remained on her, carrying a child's pure curiosity.
The wheels rolled over a patch of frozen ground, and the truck bed jolted.
Ella's small body swayed, but her eyes stayed fixed on Michonne.
Michonne frowned almost imperceptibly.
She turned back, her cold gaze meeting Ella's directly. Her voice carried a trace of impatience at being disturbed as she spoke one clear word.
"What?"
Michonne did not speak loudly.
But her icy tone, expressionless face, the blade at her waist, and the gun in her hands were enough to pressure most adults, let alone a child.
Leo, who was sitting beside Ella, felt his heart tighten. He instinctively reached out to pull his sister back, afraid she would offend this "guard" who clearly did not look like someone to mess with.
To everyone's surprise, Ella did not cry or retreat.
She only shrank her neck a little, blinked her big eyes, and asked softly with pure curiosity.
"Lady... your knife... is it sharp?"
The question was so direct, so innocent, and so completely out of place.
The truck bed instantly went quiet. Even the hushed conversations stopped.
Everyone held their breath and looked at Michonne, wondering how this cold-faced terror would react.
Leo's face turned pale with fright. He quickly grabbed his sister's arm and whispered, "Ella! Don't ask random questions!"
After being dropped by Carver in an instant, he was clearly frightened and had become much more obedient.
And the woman with the katana looked intimidating. He was afraid she might snap and go after his sister at any moment.
Michonne clearly had not expected that question either.
There were no screams or shrinking away like she had anticipated. Instead, she got a childish question about how sharp her weapon was.
She looked into Ella's clear eyes. The little girl blinked, and there was only pure curiosity in them, no fear at all.
Michonne stayed silent for several seconds. The air in the truck bed seemed close to freezing solid.
Then, under everyone's stunned gaze, Michonne did something none of them expected.
She did not answer the question about the blade.
Instead, she freed one hand, reached into a side pocket of her thick tactical vest, felt around for a moment, and pulled something out.
A well-preserved chocolate bar wrapped in silver foil.
Michonne held it out to Ella across the short distance between them.
Ella froze. She looked at the chocolate, then at Michonne's still expressionless face, and hesitantly took it.
The cold touch of the foil made her shiver.
"Th-thank you..." Ella whispered. Then she eagerly tore open the wrapper and carefully took a small bite.
In an instant, the rich cocoa scent and sweetness spread through her mouth, and her big eyes narrowed in happiness.
She could no longer remember how long it had been since she had eaten something like this.
After the virus outbreak, this kind of food had probably become a luxury.
After quickly and carefully finishing that small bite, Ella looked up at Michonne again. This time, besides curiosity, there was more gratitude and confusion in her eyes.
"Why did you give this to me? This... is precious."
Michonne looked at her, her brows faintly furrowing, as if the question was troublesome.
She looked away and turned her gaze back outside the truck bed, giving an answer that stunned everyone again.
"I hate chocolate!"
After that, Michonne stopped looking at Ella and ignored the complicated, indescribable gazes of everyone else in the truck bed, returning to her previous silent posture that shut everything out.
It was as if that tiny interlude had never happened.
Ella looked at the chocolate left in her hand, then at Michonne's hard, cold profile. A half-understanding expression appeared on her small face.
Leo hugged his sister tightly, his heart filled with mixed feelings, lingering fear, and an indescribable touch of emotion.
The other survivors in the truck bed exchanged looks. This female warrior, who seemed so cold and ruthless, might not be as unfeeling as she appeared.
Maybe Rock Fortress would not be such a bad place after all.
The truck bed fell quiet again, leaving only the roar of the engine and the sound of the wheels rolling over the road.
Shane glanced at the scene in the truck bed through the rearview mirror, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and continued driving the rear truck steadily toward Rock Fortress.
In the lead vehicle, Maya held the steering wheel with one hand, while her other hand rested casually against the edge of the half-lowered window. Cold air poured into the cab, stirring a few loose strands of her hair.
Her eyes swept the road ahead with focus, but her posture carried the relaxed ease unique to a battle-hardened veteran.
To Maya, this was just a routine transport mission.