The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the gentle wind. The group had stopped at the edge of a small clearing, their faces etched with grief and dread. In the center of the clearing stood Song Ji Hyo, or what was left of her.

Her once warm and determined eyes were now clouded, lifeless, her movements slow and jerky as she wandered aimlessly. Blood smeared her neck where the walker had bitten her during their last raid, the fatal wound that had stolen her humanity.

Rick lowered his binoculars, his jaw tight. “There she is.”

The group stood frozen, their weapons at their sides. No one wanted to be the first to speak, to acknowledge what they were about to do.

“She… she doesn’t look like herself anymore,” Maggie whispered, her voice barely audible.

Glenn’s hands trembled as he gripped his knife, his knuckles white. He couldn’t look away, even though every second he stared at Ji Hyo’s reanimated form felt like a knife to his chest.

“She fought so hard,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “Right up until the end.”

“She saved us,” Carol added softly. “She distracted the walkers long enough for us to escape. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. “Ain’t right to let her roam like that. She deserves better.”

Rick nodded, his face grim. “We have to do this. It’s the last thing we can do for her.”

Michonne stepped forward, her katana gleaming in the fading sunlight. “I can do it,” she said, her voice steady but laced with sorrow.

“No,” Glenn said sharply, his voice louder than intended. Everyone turned to him, their expressions a mix of concern and understanding.

“I’ll do it,” he said, swallowing hard. “She was… she was Korean, like me. She felt like family. I owe her this.”

Rick hesitated, then placed a hand on Glenn’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

Glenn nodded, though his legs felt like lead as he took the first step toward the clearing. The group stayed behind, giving him the space he needed.

As he approached, Ji Hyo turned toward the sound of his footsteps. For a fleeting moment, Glenn’s heart clenched, imagining she recognized him. But the guttural growl that escaped her lips shattered that illusion.

“I’m sorry, Ji Hyo,” Glenn whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

He raised his knife, his hand shaking as he aimed for her head. Memories of Ji Hyo flooded his mind—her laughter, her courage, the way she had told stories of her life as an actress to lighten their darkest moments. She had been a beacon of hope, a reminder of the world they’d lost.

Tears streamed down his face as he stepped closer. Ji Hyo lunged at him, but her movements were slow, clumsy. Glenn closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and plunged the knife into her skull.

She collapsed instantly, her body crumpling to the ground.

Glenn knelt beside her, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “You deserved better than this,” he whispered.

The rest of the group approached slowly, their faces somber. Rick placed a hand on Glenn’s shoulder again, offering silent support.

“We’ll bury her,” Carol said softly.

The group worked together to give Ji Hyo a proper farewell. They found a quiet spot beneath a tall oak tree, marking the grave with a simple stone.

As they stood around her final resting place, Glenn spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “She reminded me of home. Of who we were before all of this. I’ll never forget her.”

Neither would any of them. Ji Hyo’s bravery, her kindness, and her stories would live on in their hearts as they continued their fight for survival in a world that had taken so much from them.