The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter four

Measi walked beside Carl in silence, her boots crunching over the frost-hardened dirt. The morning air bit at her cheeks, but she barely felt it. Her hands were tight around the straps of her sniper, knuckles white. Every step carried the weight of a fury she refused to let go of—anger at the world, at Terminus, at Glenn and Maggie for leaving, and at herself for letting hope bloom too early.

Nathan followed a few paces behind, careful to give her space. He wanted to reach out, to steady her, but she wasn't having it. She didn't want anyone.

"I get it," Nathan said finally, his voice low, almost pleading. "I get why you're mad. You've been through more than anyone should."

Measi didn't answer. She didn't look at him. Her jaw tightened, eyes fixed on the trees lining the road.

Nathan pressed on. "I know you think if you let anyone close, they'll be ripped away from you. You're scared... I get that too."

She turned her eyes on him, sharp and cold. "Maybe I don't want you to understand," she said. "Maybe I don't want anyone to understand."

Nathan let out a quiet sigh. "I'm here, Measi. I'm not leaving you behind. I won't."

Her chest heaved with a sharp inhale. She wanted to tell him he didn't understand, that he never could. She wanted to scream that everyone she'd loved had been ripped away, that hope was a trap. But the words died on her tongue. She turned her face toward the trees again, her silence as hard as the rifle in her hands.

Nathan muttered under his breath, frustration mingling with worry. "Guess I'll have to talk to him instead."

Rick, walking ahead with Carl, glanced back. "Talk to who?"

Nathan's voice was quiet but steady. "Her. Measi. She's pissed... she's scared... I can't reach her right now."

Rick's gaze swept over her distant figure. "Let her be. She'll come around."

Nathan shook his head, keeping his eyes on her. "I don't know if she will. Not yet. She's not just angry at me... she's angry at everything. And she has every reason to be."

Rick's voice softened. "Then let her use it. Let her fight with it. Just make sure she doesn't fight alone."

Nathan nodded once, his jaw set. He fell silent, watching her walk ahead. Measi didn't glance back, didn't acknowledge him in any way. The line of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, the way she carried herself like a weapon—he saw the storm inside her. And he would wait.

Because she was angry. She was scared. And she wasn't ready to trust anyone—not again.

But Nathan stayed, steady and unyielding, at the edge of her storm.

The church was quiet, eerily so, save for the occasional creak of wood settling and the distant calls of birds outside. Measi moved along the shadows of the pews, her sniper slung across her back, eyes scanning every corner. Every sound—footsteps, groans, the rustle of wind through broken windows—made her flinch.

She didn't speak. She barely even looked at anyone, moving as if she could erase herself from the room entirely. Nathan trailed behind, hands occasionally brushing against his weapon, his patience fraying.

"Measi," he said finally, low and careful. "We need to figure out if they're still out there."

She didn't answer. Her eyes caught the sunlight filtering through a cracked stained glass window, the dust floating like tiny specters.

Nathan's voice sharpened. "We can't just sit here and wait. You're not helping by hiding."

She spun slightly, only her eyes turning toward him. "And what would you have me do, Nathan? Go rushing into the woods after them? You think I don't want them back too?"