Flower of Blood | TWD

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Maisie hadn't left Carl the whole night. She was offered the couch to sleep on, and Oliver had offered her some food— but she politely declined and kept right by his side.

"Fever's going down." Hershel smiled as he removed his hand from Carl's forehead. Maisie's eyes widened and she didn't fight back her smile when Carl began to wriggle around. He was awake. He was okay.

"Baby?" Lori immediately jumped by his side, joined by Rick as Carl's eyes fluttered open slowly. It took him a few seconds to adjust again and realise where he was.

Maisie laughed softly in celebration, pushing her loose hair behind her ears as she sat up properly by his side. "Sophia?" Carl whispered, "Is she okay?"

The slight frown returned to her face and Maisie dipped her head, hiding her sorrow expression from Carl. "Fine," Rick lied. "She's fine."

"Rest." Lori changed the subject quickly, "We'll be right here, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not leaving." Maisie added quietly as Carl closed his eyes again, falling back into a much needed sleep.

"They're here." T-dog barged in, regretting it when he noticed Carl was asleep.

Rick and Lori got up to head out, Maisie had other plans though and was holding truth to her word by not leaving Carl. She sat up against the bed frame, fiddling with the rocks she had in her pockets previously.

Despite urgently wanting to keep her word and stay with her brother, she didn't have the heart to refuse to attend the small funeral being thrown for Otis. It was the least she could do— he died saving Carls life.

So, now she was standing by Rick with her hands clasped together in front of her, trying to seem respectful and neat. Maisie hadn't been to many funerals throughout her life, but even so, wearing normal clothes to the occasion felt wrong.

"Blessed be god, father of our Lord Jesus Christ." Hershel began to read out of his book, watching as each member of Otis's family put a rock on-top of the building pile for him. "Praise be to him, for the gift of our brother Otis. For his span of years, for his abundance of character— Otis, who gave his life to save a child. Now more than ever, our most precious asset."

Maisie screwed her lips up as she looked up, squinting her eyes slightly to shield them from the bright sun. She made eye contact with Shane first, who was standing beside her, but he quickly recoiled and looked away. However, Maisie didn't, instead she looked at his now bald head— some part of her wanting to ask why he shaved all his hair off.

But she refrained, knowing now wasn't the right time. Lori's arm rested gently over Maisie's shoulder, holding her daughter close to herself and Rick. "We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived," Hershel continued, "In grace."

A moment of silence passed as everybody nodded in respect to the dead man. "Shane, will you speak for Otis?" Hershel's voice interrupted the eery air.

"I'm not good at it." Shane shook his head, stiffing up at the idea. Maisie looked back at him, his pupils flashing between everybody before landing on the hat in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"You were the last one with him," Patricia's solemn, pain filled voice said. "You shared his final moments, please. I need to hear, I need to know his death had meaning."

Maisie nodded to Shane, telling him that he should say anything good for Patricia. She didn't expect him to take her opinion or do it just because she thought he should, but she hoped maybe he felt like he owed that much.

Shane hesitated, his eyes darting between Patricia, Maisie, Rick and the floor. "We were about done, out of ammo— we were down on pistols by then. I was limping, it was bad." He began to tell, "Ankle all swollen up. 'We gotta save the boy' See, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack, he shoved me ahead— 'Run, I'll take the rear end I'll cover you' he said. Then when I looked back. . ."