[ xxiv. people are worse ]

june 30th, 2012

➸➸➸

"I KNOW WHAT I saw."

With a sigh of frustration, Astrid ran her fingers through her tousled, chestnut locks. Each strand seemed to hold the memory of those black eyes she had glimpsed amid the inky darkness of the trees the previous night. She had barely been able to close her own eyes for more than a few seconds at a time since. She was certain that someone, or something, had been watching them, and that they were still close by.

The sun had now risen on a new day, casting its pale light over the group as they continued their unmarked path through the thickets of trees. Astrid walked between Daryl and Rick, the three of them locked in a tense discussion. The latter found himself at a loss for words as he broached the topic. "So, whatever you heard last night . . ." Rick began but trailed off, his voice faltering.

"Someone was watching us," Astrid growled. "I don't know who it was or if there were others, but I know what I saw. There were eyes in the trees. They were watching me. Watching all of us."

Astrid's gaze shifted to the group that followed in their wake. Her eyes settled first on Bailey, who walked in quiet conversation with Carl. Astrid had tried to talk to Carl alone that morning, hoping to gather more information about Bailey's injury, but the boy was not yet ready to share what he knew—if he knew anything. Since her fiery outburst the previous day, Astrid still had not managed to have a conversation with the young girl.

As they moved forward, Rick fell back, issuing an authoritative command. "Stay close," He ordered, retreating to walk in stride with Abraham. This left Astrid and her hunter to lead the way.

Daryl's stare still lingered on Astrid, even as they walked, his brow furrowed with concern for her. "You don't have to believe me," She grumbled to him. "I know my head hasn't been clear. I know everything's just been off, and—"

"I believe you. Don't you ever doubt that," Daryl asserted. "I jus' . . . don't get it. If someone was watchin' us, how could they cover their tracks?"

Astrid did not know, and her thoughts churned with a mixture of anger and trepidation as a result. The relentless gnawing in the pit of her stomach—the gnawing that had persisted ever since she had first glimpsed those unsettling eyes—was almost unbearable. She clenched her jaw to suppress her nausea.

"Were you checking in the right area?" Astrid eventually questioned as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

Daryl nodded. "I searched the whole camp before we left. Went back to where we were, too," He insisted. "There was nothin' to find."

"That just doesn't make sense," She bristled. "Daryl, you taught me how to track. No one can cover up their tracks like that. Not in that kind of hurry. What if I actually did imagine it? It's the only logical—"

"Help! Please! Help, anybody! Help!"

Astrid froze as the sharp, sudden echoes of a pained cry reverberated in her ears. She exchanged a quick glance with Daryl, confirming that he heard the voice, too. She looked around cautiously, searching for any signs of movement, but the landscape remained still. Panic coiled within her as she pivoted to face Rick, who had rushed back to the front of the group, his revolver drawn. Without hesitation, Carl and Bailey joined the adults.

"Dad, come on," Carl urged. He seemingly struggled to contain his impulse to rush to the rescue. "Come on, hurry!"

Yet before anyone could utter another word, the boy whirled around, his anxiousness propelling him into the trees, chasing the source of the distress call all on his own. In his wake, Bailey produced her own weapon and sprinted to join Carl's side.

Astrid's eyes widened in alarm as she gasped. "Bailey! Carl!" She cried, instinctively taking off after the children. "Come back here!"

Though the rest of the group hurriedly followed behind the Lancaster woman, her primary concern was onward, ensuring that Bailey and Carl did not unwittingly place themselves in mortal danger while trying to play heroes. As she raced down a steep ravine, the anguished pleas of the stranger continued to rend the forest around her. It was only then that Astrid's ears picked up the unmistakable snarls of walkers thrown into the nearby mix.

Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the air, followed by another, and Astrid knew the children had arrived at the scene. A few moments later, she emerged into a woodsy clearing, her eyes locking onto a dark-skinned man perched atop a massive boulder. He fought fiercely to free himself from a walker that had clamped its bony fingers around his ankle. Astrid shot forward, into the action, her machete gleaming as she drove it forcefully into the walker's skull, killing it.

But there was no time to catch her breath, for another walker lurched toward her. Just as she prepared to strike, an arrow impaled the creature's eye, ending its advance. Her attention darted to Daryl, who stood nearby, crossbow at the ready. In the background, Rick and Carol finished off the remaining walkers. Meanwhile, at the base of the boulder, Carl and Bailey, still panting from their own undead kills, returned their firearms to their holsters.

As Rick rushed toward his own son, Astrid quickly closed the distance between herself and Bailey, her grip firm on the young girl's bony shoulder. "Are you alright?" She demanded breathlessly.

Bailey nodded, her wide, innocent eyes flashing. "I'm fine," She reassured, her voice quivering only slightly. "Sorry for running off," She added with a hint of regret. "I just wanted to save someone."

Astrid leaned down to the young girl's level. "Don't do that again," She chastised gently but firmly. "I don't want you getting hurt. Do you understand?"

Bailey simply nodded, her shoulders sagging as she realized she would not be receiving the compliments she had hoped for. Astrid respected the girl's spirit but recognized, too, that she had to temper her praise for bravery with the reality of Bailey's vulnerability. Despite her determination to help, Bailey was still just a child, not even twelve years old. She did not need to run so blindly into danger just yet.

With a final, reassuring squeeze on Bailey's shoulder, Astrid rose from her crouch and turned her attention back to the trembling man still perched atop the boulder.

Rick took charge of the situation. "We're clear. Keep watch," He ordered. His voice then softened slightly as he addressed the stranger. "Come on down." Astrid watched as the man carefully descended from his rocky refuge, his movements tentative.

From the corner of her eye, Astrid noticed Daryl slowly sidling up to her side, the stain of a fresh kill evident on his jacket. His eyes met hers briefly, a silent acknowledgment of the strangeness of the situation. Together, they observed the man's curious appearance.

At first glance, the man bore an uncanny resemblance to a preacher, as if he had just stepped out of a place of worship. The disparity between his attire and the world they now inhabited was striking. Astrid could not help but wonder if this was the only set of clothing he possessed or if there was a deeper reason behind his outfit choice.

"You okay?" She cautiously asked the stranger.

The man's head suddenly lurched forward slightly, and then, with an apologetic look, he raised a hand to his mouth, bending over and expelling the remnants of his queasiness into the grass below. Astrid grimaced in disgust and turned away for a moment, allowing the man some semblance of privacy to handle his business. When the retching subsided, she turned her attention back to the stranger, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Sorry," The man apologized weakly. "Thank you for saving me. I'm Gabriel."

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick questioned, uninterested in formal introductions.

Gabriel emitted a frail, uneasy chuckle. "Do I look like I would have any weapons?" He replied, gesturing helplessly at his preacher's attire.

Abraham, positioned further back and clutching a rifle with an air of mistrust, interjected bluntly, "We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like."

"I have no weapons of any kind," Gabriel affirmed. "The word of God is the only protection I need."

Astrid, unable to contain her skepticism, scoffed slightly. "Sure didn't look like it," She said.

She immediately felt the collective weight of numerous pairs of eyes on her and flushed with embarrassment, realizing she had spoken louder than intended. However, she remained resolute in her belief that hope and prayers were a poor defense in their new world. She had learned quickly that if you wanted something accomplished or needed something found, you had to take matters into your own hands. The days of closing your eyes, looking to the sky, and expecting salvation were long gone. Things did not work like that anymore. In fact, things like that had never worked to begin with. At least for her, anyway.

Gabriel raised his hands as he scanned the faces of Astrid's group. "I called for help," He claimed. "Help came." His words met with a heavy silence, leaving everyone uncertain about how to respond. When it was obvious no one would, Gabriel cleared his throat, and inquired hesitantly, "Do you have . . . Do you have any food? Whatever I had left just hit the ground when I was attacked."

Carl took a step forward, his palm upturned in a generous offer. "We've got some pecans," He proposed.

Gabriel extended a shaky hand, his fingers trembling as he scooped the offered pecans. "Thank you," He murmured to the young boy, who offered a small, reassuring smile before retreating back to his father's side.

A faint cooing sound drew Astrid's attention sideways, where she saw Judith playing with Tyreese's hat while cradled in his arms. Gabriel let a wide, warm smile cross his face. "That's a beautiful child," He complimented softly.

As if seemingly oblivious to the potential implications of praising the baby in such a strange manner, Rick regarded Gabriel coldly while Carl cautiously edged closer to his sister. Only then did Gabriel realize he had unintentionally broached a delicate topic—yet how could he have known? He had not been given a comprehensive description of Astrid and her group.

But had he possessed that knowledge, he might have never called for their help in the first place.

Gabriel swallowed thickly as he attempted to dissipate the awkward tension that hung in the air. "Do you have a camp?" He ventured.

"No," Rick answered instantly.

Astrid did not let the opportunity pass. She arched an eyebrow curiously and questioned, "Do you?"

For a moment, Gabriel remained silent, his gaze traveling up and down Astrid's form. His focus settled on her eyes for a heartbeat before he averted his attention back to Rick. "I have a church," He finally revealed.

Rick heaved a sigh, as though he harbored doubts about the veracity of every word that escaped the so-called preacher's lips. "Hold your hands above your head," He ordered with an edge of cold authority. Fear danced in Gabriel's eyes, but he obeyed without protest, raising his hands in a slow manner. Rick moved closer to the man and began to conduct a cursory pat-down. "How many walkers have you killed?" He asked.

"Not any, actually."

Astrid frowned. "How could you have not killed any walkers considering how long the world's been like this?"

"I just try to avoid them," He insisted.

She clenched her jaw to stifle any further comments, allowing Rick to continue with the interrogation. "How many people have you killed?" He prodded.

Gabriel's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped in disbelief as he gawked at Rick. "None," He whispered.

Rick's skepticism remained. "Why?" He demanded.

Gabriel swallowed hard. "Because the Lord abhors violence," He asserted, his voice now steady.

An interesting ploy, Astrid thought.

Rick's doubts, too, were far from dispelled. "What have you done?" He challenged. "We've all done something."

The Lancaster woman was relieved to know that her leader inwardly agreed. There was something amiss about this seemingly pure-hearted man. In nearly two years, how could he have never killed a walker? Was it possible that they were the first survivors that he had ever encountered? If so, there had to be a reason for that—and Gabriel was keeping it hidden. But she was determined to uncover his secrets.

"I'm a sinner," Gabriel admitted with a sense of regret. "I sin almost every day. But those sins, I confess them to God . . . Not strangers."

Astrid rolled her eyes in response to his declaration. Meanwhile, Michonne stepped in to redirect the conversation, speaking with a no-nonsense tone. "You said you had a church?" She interjected, preventing Rick from further provoking the preacher.

Gabriel nodded. "It's not far from here," He assured. "I can take you there."

An unspoken consensus established itself as the group of weary survivors exchanged glances. The decision had already been made. In a matter of minutes, Astrid found herself walking down a worn, dirt path alongside Rick, Daryl, and Gabriel. She gnawed on her lower lip as she walked, her thoughts a distant whirlwind.

Rick suddenly cut through Astrid's contemplation, abruptly pulling her attention back to the present. He leveled a watchful look at Gabriel and asked, "Hey, earlier, were you watching us?"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Astrid's eyes widened as she recognized the opportunity to uncover the truth. "Last night," She pressed, her voice filled with longing to confirm her sanity. "Did you see our group resting around a campfire?"

Gabriel shook his head, his features a picture of confusion "No, I never go outside at night. Anyways, I keep to myself," He explained. Astrid sighed in disappointment, her intuition telling her that he was telling the truth. "Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead, don't you think?"

The Lancaster woman's mind drifted to the horrors of Terminus, but before she could respond, Daryl interjected coldly, "No. People are worse."

"Well, I wasn't watching you," Gabriel reassured with a sigh. "I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I've gone before today . . ." They continued their march in silence, and Gabriel could not resist a light chuckle. "Or maybe I'm lying," He added mischievously. "Maybe I'm lying about everything, and there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all of your squirrels."

Astrid's eyes darted protectively towards her hunter as he walked beside her, who had a string of dead squirrels slung over his shoulder from his brief morning hunt. She frowned and muttered sarcastically to the preacher, "Maybe you'll end up with an arrow between the eyes if you try a joke like that again." Her threat earned a few scoffs and amused reactions from her group—especially from Daryl, who responded with a tight squeeze of her hip in approval.

Gabriel's confident expression faltered, but then he offered another shaky laugh. "Members of my flock had often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to be desired."

"Yeah, it does," Daryl snickered, causing a smirk to grace Astrid's face this time.

With that, Gabriel turned his back on them and continued to lead them forward through the dense woods, until they reached a small clearing. Astrid gazed ahead and laid her eyes on a sturdy white church. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, thankful that the preacher had indeed been telling the truth. But it was only one piece of the puzzle, and it did little to ease her overall worry.

After all, Gabriel remained a stranger, and trust was still in short supply. She knew better than to let her guard down.

➸➸➸

ASTRID STOOD IN THE shadow of Saint Sarah's Church, its pristine white exterior contrasting sharply with the brilliant red double doors that loomed before her. Her heart pounded as she fixed her stare on Gabriel, who was poised to open the door, but just as his hand reached for the handle, a throaty rumble sounded from Rick.

"Hold up," He commanded. Gabriel's hand recoiled, his expression confused. "Can we take a look around first? We just want to hold on to our squirrels."

Rick extended his palm, demanding the keys, which Gabriel surrendered without a second thought. Their leader proceeded to unlock the door, shouldering his rifle as he pushed open one of the creaking doors. Daryl trailed close behind him, while Astrid held the flank, with Michonne and Carol poised on her sides, their weapons all at the ready, prepared for the possibility of an ambush.

They fanned out, their footsteps echoing. The interior of the church, surprisingly clean, greeted their wary eyes. The rows of benches remained undisturbed, and as Astrid scoured the room, she detected no hidden threat. She veered to the right, her progress down the aisle measured, her vigilant stare sweeping every row of seats. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she cast a glance upward, locking onto Rick's piercing blue eyes, silently confirming her safety with a subtle nod.

Continuing her search, Astrid's eyes darted left and right, tracking Daryl as he ransacked a drawer, uncovering a trove of garments. Elsewhere, Carol was engrossed in perusing a stack of books on a nearby desk, while Rick meticulously scoured every corner and crevice for any sign of danger. Astrid soon left the benches behind, her focus drawn to two doors located at the back of the church. Michonne disappeared into one, leaving Astrid to tackle the other.

Cautiously, she lifted her pistol higher as she gingerly grasped the doorknob. With a shallow breath, she inched the door open, revealing a room that could only be a storage space. Couches and wooden chairs littered the area, while bibles were stacked on a solitary dusty table in the center. Her attention was drawn last to a piano nestled in the far corner of the room, its keys curiously bereft of dust, clearly well-tended and recently used.

Then, a splash of color snagged her vision, and her eyes snapped upwards, fixing on a collection of children's drawings. Each one depicted a biblical verse, some sending shivers cascading down her spine. Astrid had never set foot in a church, nor had she ever thumbed through a bible. When her eyes fell upon an image of a burning forest and a lone infant adrift in a stream, another cold wave of nausea washed over her, and she turned away, swallowing hard to suppress the bile that threatened to rise in her throat.

Suddenly, a low whistle sounded from the depths of the main church, and Astrid instantly recognized it as Rick's signal that the area was secure. Swiftly, she tucked her pistol into her waistband and stepped out of the storage room, rejoining the procession following Rick and the others as they walked back towards the exit. They spilled out onto the porch and turned their attention solely back to Gabriel, who had cleared his throat with an air of solemnity.

"I spent months here without stepping out the front door," He revealed. "If you found someone inside, well, it would have been surprising."

Hesitation blanketed the group, all awaiting Rick's response, but he remained mute, letting his son instead speak. "Thanks for this," Carl breathed.

"We really appreciate it," Bailey chimed in moments later, her hands clasped over her stomach as she beamed, her dimples adding a touch of charm.

Astrid could not tear her gaze away from the young girl's natural kindness and beauty. Bailey's hazel eyes sparkled with innocence, her sleek, brunette hair still elegantly braided, just as Astrid remembered back at the prison. Her attire had changed, though; on that last day, she had been sporting a pale blue overall-like dress with brown leggings. Now, she was clad in blue jeans and a black jacket. The same worn-out gray sneakers clung to her feet, however—a token from perhaps even earlier life.

"We found a short bus out back," Abraham reported, shattering Astrid's reverie. "It doesn't run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Father here says he doesn't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport . . . You do understand what's at stake here, right, Rick?"

Rick, who had not taken his eyes off his children, offered a faint nod as his hand tenderly brushed through his daughter's hair. "Yes, I do," He replied softly.

"Now, that we can take a breath—" Michonne began.

"We take a breath, we slow down," Abraham retorted, cutting her off coldly. "Shit inevitably goes down."

"We need supplies," Astrid countered, agreeing with Michonne's initial sentiment. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked sternly at the red-haired man. "No matter what our next move is."

"That's right," Rick concurred. "Water, food, ammunition."

With that, Rick gently plucked Judith from Carl's arms and entered the church after Gabriel. Carl, Bailey, and Michonne followed suit, while Daryl ascended the porch, his fingers finding Astrid's hand to pull her after him. "That short bus ain't goin' anywhere," He quipped to the former Marine. "We'll bring you back some baked beans."

Astrid chuckled softly under her breath and allowed her hunter to guide her inside as the other members filed in gradually behind her. Her eyes lingered on Rick, who stood at the head of the aisle alongside Gabriel. Her leader's stare was still cautious.

"How did you survive here for so long?" He questioned. "Where did your supplies come from?"

"Luck," The priest responded, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. But, as if sensing that his initial answer would not suffice, he promptly offered a more comprehensive explanation. "Our annual canned food drive," He admitted. "Things fell apart shortly after we finished it. I was alone. The food lasted a long time, and then I started scavenging. I've cleaned out every place nearby. Well, except for one."

Rick passed Judith back to Carl and swallowed slowly. "What kept you away from it?" He pressed.

"It's overrun."

"How many?" Astrid wondered.

Gabriel's eyes flickered to her own. "A dozen or so," He replied. "Maybe more."

Rick automatically cast a glance in the Lancaster woman's direction, his decision already made but seeking her affirmation. She responded in kind, and Rick redirected his attention to Gabriel once more. "We can handle a dozen," He assured.

"Bob and I will go with you," Sasha announced, taking a confident step forward. The undertones of something more between her and the former medic were unmistakable. In the last twenty-four hours, Astrid had observed their newly stolen kisses, though it remained a mystery when their romance had actually sparked. No matter, she was happy for them.

"I'll go, too," Astrid volunteered. She could not ignore the quiet discomfort that immediately emanated from Daryl beside her.

"Tyreese should stay here and help keep Judith safe," Sasha suggested, flashing a meaningful glance at her older brother.

Tyreese responded with a soft smile, a blush adorning his cheeks. "Sure," He answered warmly. He then looked at Rick. "You ever need me to watch her, need anything for her, I'm right here."

"I'm grateful for it," Rick whispered sincerely, a well of appreciation in his eyes. "And for everything else." Tyreese acknowledged his gratitude with a nod of understanding, and then, behind the two men, Gabriel made his way to a desk piled high with books.

"I'll draw you a map," The preacher offered.

"You don't need to," Rick declined firmly. "You're coming with us."

Gabriel managed a weak grin, perhaps thinking the man was joking. "I'm not going to be of any help," He protested. "I mean, you saw me. I'm no good around those things."

"You're coming with us," Rick reiterated, his voice dropping to a near growl.

There was no point in further discussion. With that, the group scattered to settle in, while those who had chosen to scope for supplies gathered their belongings and said their goodbyes. As Rick drew Carl aside for a private conversation, Bailey approached Astrid and enfolded her in a tight embrace, her head buried against her abdomen. "Be careful," The young girl pleaded.

Astrid was momentarily taken aback by the sudden gesture but swiftly reciprocated, wrapping her arms around the girl's slender shoulders. "I will," She reassured. "I'll be back before you know it."

Bailey pulled back, her eyes earnest as she posed a question. "Will you bring back a lot of food?"

"Hopefully," Astrid replied. "But first, we have to make it to the building."

The young girl nodded. Then she took a step back and began to fidget with her fingers. "Astrid," She addressed cautiously, her gaze lifting shyly, "do you think there's any chance you can bring back some peanut butter?"

Her request was so soft and simple that the Lancaster woman chuckled. "I'll make sure to look for it."

"Thanks," Bailey said, squeezing Astrid's hand tightly. "Don't forget to be careful, though."

"I won't," Astrid assured with a smile. "I'll see you when I get back."

Bailey, too, smiled once more before turning to join Tara and Maggie on the far side of the church. Tara playfully tousled her hair, and her tiny laugh rang out, filling the spacious room. Astrid, on the other hand, eventually turned her attention back to gathering her supplies—which was not much. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and slipped extra bullets for her pistol into her back pocket.

"Think you could leave without sayin' goodbye?"

A grin curled across Astrid's lips as she turned to find Daryl approaching with a sly smirk. His strong hands settled at her hips, drawing her close, while she slid her arms beneath his, wrapping them around his solid frame. "How could I ever forget?" She teased.

Daryl responded with a chuckle, his lips finding their way to her forehead for a kiss. But in an instant, his demeanor shifted from playfulness to genuine concern. "You sure you want to go on this run?" He questioned, his eyes searching deeply into hers.

Astrid nodded. "We need more people if we're going to bring back a decent haul," She insisted. "Rick can't do it all on his own."

"I know," Daryl sighed. "I jus' don't want you gettin' hurt. I mean, it was just yesterday that your side stopped bleedin' for the first time. What if somethin' happens out there that messes it up again?"

"I'll be fine. But . . . if you're so concerned, why don't you come with us?"

"I already offered to go down to the stream with Carol to get some water."

Astrid groaned, and buried her head against his chest, taking solace in his familiar scent. "Why do we always seem to be pulled apart?" She mused aloud. "When was the last time we went on a run together, just the two of us? It's not fair."

"Well, life ain't fair," Daryl retorted with another smirk. "So suck it up."

"Wow. Just for that, I won't be sleeping by your side tonight," The Lancaster woman decided, suddenly freeing herself from his embrace. She crossed her arms over her chest and grinned at Daryl's now-growing frown as she threw his own words back at him. "Ever heard the saying, Dixon?" She mocked. "Life ain't fair."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that, right?"

"Yet, you still put up with me," She said, her shoulders shrugging innocently. "That's got to count for something."

"Oh, it counts for somethin', all right."

Before Astrid could voice any protest, her hunter grabbed her arm and pulled her back into him, trapping her against his chest. He lowered his head, ready to press his lips to hers. However, just as she had the day before, she turned her head at the last moment, causing his lips to graze her cheek and ear. He gritted in annoyance, and Astrid dared a soft laugh. But Daryl was having none of it. He softly gripped her chin with his fingers, holding her in place, and then finally, he kissed her.

His lips were warm against her own, and Astrid could not help but smile friskfully into the kiss. Daryl gradually let his hands drop from her face, returning to her waist as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. Her fingers tangled strands of his hair as she held him close, savoring every moment. Regrettably, the moment to part arrived much sooner than she had hoped. Astrid pulled back, allowing her forehead to rest against his for a few seconds longer. "I love you," She murmured.

Daryl nuzzled into her. "I love you too, Dixon," He replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.

A faint blush crept onto Astrid's cheeks as she realized that she would soon bear the Dixon name. Throughout her life, she had known only two Dixons: Merle Dixon, who would have been her brother-in-law, and Daryl Dixon, the man she had fallen in love with.

Astrid Dixon. It was a name she had never imagined would be hers.

Still, she smirked. "I ain't no Dixon yet," She pointed out. "I'm still a Lancaster."

"Whatever," Daryl huffed. "You've always been a Dixon in my eyes, even before I popped the question."

"Yeah, well, unless you want to make a big reveal right now in front of everybody, I suggest you stick with my surname for the time being. I don't think you'd be able to handle all the love," Astrid laughed, the image of her hunter being surrounded by the group, receiving endless attention and congratulations while she was off fighting walkers, vivid in her mind.

Daryl rolled his eyes with a fond exasperation. "Well, you best get goin' then," He dismissed.

The distant call of Sasha rallying the last-minute stragglers beckoned. It was time to go. Astrid pressed one last lingering kiss to Daryl's lips. Finally pulling back, she gathered her belongings that rested on the bench and then started towards the exit.

"Be careful, Lancaster," Her hunter called after her.

Astrid paused in the doorway, her eyes sweeping over Rick and the others who were already converging on the road. Then, her gaze shifted, landing back on Daryl, who stood alone in the center aisle. His crossbow was slung across his back, a small smile gracing his lips. It was a smile that transcended cocky smirks and playful banter. It was just him.

She smiled back.

"Always am, Dixon."

~~~~~~~~~~

enjoy the happiness while it lasts.