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𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐯:
"Who are you?" Rick demanded, his revolver aimed squarely at my chest as I entered the farm with my hands raised. Behind him stood another man, eyes narrowed with distrust.
"Easy, I'm not looking for trouble," I said as calmly as I could muster. "Name's Cole. I've just been trying to survive out there, but I could really use a safe place to lay low."
Rick's partner looked me over skeptically. "How do we know we can trust you?"
Before I could respond, an older man with a gruff yet reassuring demeanor strode up. "Rick! What seems to be the issue here?"
"He says his name is Cole," Rick explained, not taking his eyes off me. "Claims he's alone and needs shelter."
The older man gave me a once over before introducing himself. "I'm Hershel Greene. This is my farm. You'll have to excuse Rick's caution - we've had some...difficult encounters with others recently."
I nodded in understanding. "Believe me, I get it. The world's gone to hell. But I'm just one guy looking to survive, not cause any problems."
Hershel seemed to weigh my words for a moment before replying. "Well, we could use an extra hand. Especially if you're willing to pitch in with the chores around here. Think you can follow the rules of this place?"
"You got it," I agreed, feeling relief wash over me at finding a potential sanctuary, however temporary. Rick finally lowered his weapon as Hershel beckoned me to follow.
As we neared the farmhouse, more of the group's inhabitants emerged - some watching me cautiously, others with outright suspicion. An older woman named Patricia and Hershel's daughters Maggie and Beth were a stark contrast to the well-armed entourage surrounding Rick.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of mournful memory watching this splintered family try to uphold normalcy and forge a semblance of community. It mirrored the facade I'd witnessed with my former group, the perverse fantasy that had allowed evil men like Joe and his "Claimers" to masquerade as more than soulless, depraved monsters.
Meeting Rick's core people one-by-one, I picked up on their guarded skepticism. Only Carol, her eyes sunken with unimaginable grief, showed a glimmer of kinship upon hearing I'd lost my own survival partners. The looks from Shane, Daryl, Andrea and the others made it clear I'd have to prove trustworthy before being granted entry into their family.
As Hershel gave me a tour of the property and explained their routines, I committed to putting in the backbreaking labor needed to pull my own weight. No more leeching off of others, I vowed. This place offered an opportunity to hit the reset button, to forge a new path forward.
Of course, with the woman Lori very much pregnant, I wondered just how transitory any feeling of security could be. Hershel seemed to exist in a state of stubborn denial regarding the plague that had overwhelmed the world beyond his farm's borders. Under the golden sunset's fading light, I caught my first horrifying glimpse at what that obliviousness had wrought - the desiccated forms of Walkers trapped within the confines of the old barn. In that moment, I felt the potential for a harsh reckoning descending over this pastoral illusion. One I suspected the group's survivors were not entirely prepared for.
