The hospital floor had a room that was glaringly sterile, the beeping of the machines the only sound to punctuate the tense silence. Raven lay motionless, a still figure amidst a tangle of wires and IV lines. Her chest rose and fell with mechanical precision, every breath assisted by the devices surrounding her. The group gathered at her bedside wore grim expressions, save for one—Wyatt's mask of concern didn't quite reach his eyes.
Mac stood apart from the rest, he was let out of the cell by Rick to see Raven, his features drawn tight with guilt. What had started as a simple tactical disagreement escalated into an altercation that left Raven unconscious. The impact had been an accident, but no one could ignore the severity of its repercussions. Raven, their indomitable leader, now lay vulnerable in a coma.
Uncertainty rippled through the ranks. Without Raven's decisive command, the group felt rudderless in a sea of chaos. They turned to Deanna and Rick, the two Raven had implicitly trusted to steer the ship should she ever fall. Although whispers of dissent fluttered among them—most notably from Wyatt—they knew Raven's explicit instructions: Wyatt was not to lead. His betrayal had already cost them too much, and they shuddered to think what he might do given power over all they'd built together.
Deanna stepped forward, her voice cutting through the uncertainty like a beacon. "We don't have time for division," she said firmly. "Raven would want us to focus on survival—on our home." She exchanged a nod with Rick.
Rick cleared his throat and addressed them all with a steady gaze that seemed to borrow strength from Raven's own resolute stare from better days."There's a herd coming our way—massive—one that we've never faced before," he announced.
"The lookout estimates give us two days before they're on top of us," Deanna added grimly.
"A vote then," Rick suggested pragmatically. "All in favor of fortifying defenses and focusing our efforts on the herd?"
Hands raised in agreement around the room—tentative at first but growing firmer as each member placed their trust in Deanna and Rick's leadership. All but Wyatt's, who stood with arms crossed, scowling at his feet—a solitary monument to resentment.
"Then it's decided," Rick concluded with finality lingering in his tone. "We focus on survival today—we honor Raven by protecting what she fought so hard for."
Tension lingered like fog among them as they dispersed, readying themselves for the impending storm of walkers. Meanwhile, Deanna glanced one last time at Raven's unmoving form before steeling herself for what was to come.
This wouldn't be easy—they were down a leader and facing potential internal strife—but if anything was certain, it was that they would fight tooth and nail to preserve their sanctuary against both the dead...and perhaps against those who once counted themselves among friends.
* * * *
The early morning sun gently filtered through the dust-speckled windows of the community's infirmary, casting a calming glow over the quiet scene. Rick stood resolutely at the head of the room, his arms crossed as he watched his son, Carl, pull a chair closer to Raven's bedside.
