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It was around 5:20 am when Inaara made her decision.
Well, technically she had already made it seven hours prior, but around 5:20 she changed it.
It was once she laid her twinkling eyes upon both Rick and Judith as they slept peacefully that she decided she couldn't carry on with the choice she made.
Inaara was in the middle of flattening a flimsy note onto the wall of the Cell Block. She took a step back and admired her work through the dark before nodding approvingly.
'Going on a run, be back soon. Inaara and Glenn :)'
Glenn was sleeping and they planned on leaving in an hour. She shifted her weight on the balls of her heels for a few moments, mentally finalizing her decision before she turned around with a sigh. Her eyes drifted over to Rick's cell, right across from where she was standing.
She was able to make out his figure sprawled across the bed sheets. His tanned arm was slung over his eyes, just like the last time she saw it when she stepped into his room. His watch glistened in the moonlight.
But this time, his other arm was extended, a perfect nestling space for Judith. Her crib was abandoned, as she favored the idea of sleeping close to her father instead.
The sight tugged at the strings of her heart and sent a turbulent force through her mind, wracking her every thought. Did she want to put them at risk? Her eyes drifted to all the cells that sheltered her sleeping friends. Did she want to put any of these people at risk?
Going with Glenn to that Silo, knowing that the anger had never settled down inside of him; that was reckless of her to agree to.
In one swift motion, she had snatched the note from off the cold wall and crumbled it between her hands. She couldn't help but acknowledge the part of her that knew Glenn was right though—they had to do something.
She would go alone.
It was once she abandoned the comfort of the prison and surrounded herself, once again, by the dead, when she began to doubt herself as she always did.
The highway was vacant and bare, completely uninhabited. Her only companion was the dear sun and the occasional squirrel that would rush by her feet. She giggled to herself thinking of how much Daryl would've loved it.
Her emotions shifted on the journey as she couldn't decide between encouraging herself for the brave act or criticizing herself for the temerarious decision.
"Mut mary gai mery." She now mumbled, fixing the strap of her rifle against her back. (I'm so stupid)
The governor was responsible for his group–they weren't her priority. Her group was. And reconciliation or somewhat of a truce would do well to offer them peace and safety.
