hiraeth | c.g. |

xxiv

Clary stood where she had just months before, except there had been a peace back then that she hadn't had in years. She had Carl by her side, her people by her side, her friends, her sister— and now it was gone. That perfect day had just been the prelude to tragedy, she thought, as she looked upon the barren ground.

"It's getting colder," a soft voice spoke. Clary surprised upon feeling a heavy weight upon her shoulders, looking down to see a large, dark poncho resting upon her. "Daryl had an extra and wanted you to have it." She looked to her side to see Carl, whose gaze was on the balcony where Ezekiel had stood to speak about a new beginning.

Immediately, the girl shook her head. "No, give it to Nabila or the kids—" Carl let out a humored huff. "If they put on any more layers, we're going to have to roll those kids out of here."

Carl's gaze fell upon her, please as he small a ghost of a smile upon her face before she tightened the poncho around her. She didn't know, but he could see her shivering, the blue tinge of her lips and the pale tips of her fingers that weren't covered by her gloves. Carl knew not to mention it, knowing she would just shrug him off and say she wasn't cold even though the chatter of her teeth told differently. He knew it wasn't just the cold that froze her, but it was also the fear and the grief, and he couldn't decipher which one was colder.

Looking back up to the balcony, Clary let out a deep breath. "How did we get here?" Clary questioned softly, the memories of peace and hope dwindling as quickly as a snowflake that rested upon warm skin.

Carl clenched his jaw, pulling his jacket closer to his body as a chill— wind or thoughts, no one could decipher the culprit— swept through. "It doesn't matter how we did. All that matters is that we'll get out of this," Carl spoke. "Together."

As his eye fell upon her, she only clenched her jaw as she knew even he didn't have an answer for her. "Come on, we're headed out soon." With a nod, Clary followed closely behind, her sword tapping against her hip as she tightened her hand along the bowstring as it rested on her shoulder.

Clary's boots fell heavily upon the icy grass of the Kingdom, soft crunches under her steps as she walked. As they moved closer to the front gates, their steps in sync, Carl saw Michonne loading up supplies into one of the wagons.

"You should go see if she needs help," Clary spoke, placing her hand on his arm. Carl raised his brow, wordy in his gaze. "You sure? We're supposed to do one last sweep." Clary nodded, about to speak when footsteps sounded besides them. "I'll go with her."

Looking over, Clary was surprised to see it was Alec who stood before them. The young man had never looked so sickly, his face thinner than she remembered and his eyes more hollow than before. His hair was longer, Carol not able to pretend life was okay and give him a haircut as he would mention she did. His face was covered by the ghost of a beard, in the in between stage of growth.

"Thanks," Carl spoke, clasping him on the shoulder. "Don't take too long, we'll be heading out soon." With a nod from Alec, Carl gave a quick squeeze to Clary's hand before he made his way toward his adoptive mother.

In silence, the two began their trek through the Kingdom— at least what was left of it. It was like looking through a damaged scrapbook, with memories of her time in the Kingdom fading like pictures did.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Alec questioned softly, forcing Clary to look at him. She nodded her head softly, letting out a sharp breath. "Yeah, you were training against Richard and he put you right on your ass." At that, Alec cracked a smile, digging his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, when him and my mom had gotten together, he was scared to hurt me. Then I treated him like any snot-nosed teenager and he didn't mind humiliating me in front of another communities leadership."