THE GRIM REAPER'S HANDLE ON THE SURVIVORS REMAINED A PERPLEXING THOUGHT TO LUCY. On one hand, Oliver had been spared from death's ruthless grasp. He overcame the obstacles of his coma-induced slumber, and managed to make his way back outside where the rest of the group assembled; he faced death in open battle and fought for the fate to persevere in the land of the living.
Sophia Peletier's ugly encounter with death hadn't proved quite so serendipitous. The young girl, who everyone had believed to be a lamb to shepherd. Turned out to be a lamb to slaughter. Her death having been orchestrated for weeks now. Captured and turned feral in the Greene family barn.
An apparent haven for the friends and family of Hershel Greene; walkers he loved as ferociously as their corpses tried to kill him, once set free by Lucy's very own uncle. The man was wild and untamed at the monsters he claimed needed to be put down. The man was just as responsible for weaving the strings that would inevitably lead to the deaths of her family, as those walkers.
What thoughts were running through his head? Lucy wondered as much when she sat next to her mother and brother in the dirt. Watching the standoff happening between her father and Shane. Two beasts sizing each other up. One of which was an imposter. A prey masked as a predator. However, which one of the sheriff's deputies was the prey remained to be seen.
The sight was atrocious. Two wolves hovering over the body of Sophia. Her small form lifeless and ashen. The light-up sneakers she always wore. Which brought an unrelenting smile to her face every time she saw their pink dazzling lights. Laid beneath her body. The girl's legs bent inward in a crude impression of a pretzel. Stark white bone hanging out through her kneecap, twinkling in the sunlight.
