The Edge of Survival

Chapter One

The air smelled different now—heavy with decay and a kind of coldness that clung to the skin. Nora Rae Cladwell stood at the edge of Hershel's pasture, watching the sun rise over the horizon. The early morning light bathed the fields in a soft golden hue, casting long shadows on the dew-covered grass. It was beautiful, in a way, if she could forget about the walkers just beyond the tree line. She gently stroked Caballo's neck, her fingers tracing the familiar ridges of his mane, grounding herself in the familiar while the rest of the world fell apart.

Caballo, a sturdy bay gelding with kind eyes, had been with her since she was ten years old. He was her constant, her tether to the life she used to know. They'd spent years together riding the trails that wound through the forests near her small cottage, which now stood abandoned. The memories of that life—of quiet mornings sipping coffee, of the sound of Logan's steady breathing beside her—felt distant, almost as if they belonged to someone else.

Logan. Nora exhaled slowly, her chest tightening. She hadn't really let herself think about him much lately. Four months had passed since he was bitten, and the numbness still lingered like a bruise that wouldn't fade. Her brother Jack had told her what happened, how Logan got attacked while out on a run for supplies, how it was quick. She wished she could have said goodbye. But part of her knew the goodbye had started long before that day. She loved him, in her way, but there had always been something missing. The world was cruel, but it was honest, and it stripped away illusions. The truth was Logan wasn't made for this new reality. And honestly, she wasn't sure that she was either.

She pushed the thought aside and refocused on the here and now, brushing dirt off Caballo's flank. The farm had become her sanctuary, and in the chaos of survival, routine was a small comfort. She spent her days helping with chores, especially tending to the horses. That was her escape, her piece of normality in a world gone mad.

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement near the house. Rick and his group had settled into the farm just a couple of weeks ago, and though she kept mostly to herself, Nora found herself intrigued by them. There was a certain rawness to them, especially the quiet, rough-edged man they called Daryl. She hadn't spoken much to him yet. He was always off hunting or scouting, his crossbow slung over his shoulder like it was an extension of him. He didn't say much, but his eyes held a kind of knowing—like he'd seen the worst and made his peace with it. Unlike Logan, Daryl looked like someone who was built for this world.
She glanced toward the barn, where Maggie and Beth were carrying out feed for the chickens. Hershel's daughters had been her friends since high school, and despite everything, their bond had only grown stronger in the wake of the apocalypse. It wasn't just survival that brought them together; it was history, shared memories, and the love they had for Hershel. Nora had grown up coming to this farm, spending summers here, learning to care for the horses alongside Hershel. After Jack died two months ago, Hershel had insisted that Nora stay with them on the farm. She didn't argue. At that point, she didn't really have anywhere else to go.

"Nora!" Maggie called, waving her over. "We need some help over here."

Nora smiled, raising her hand in acknowledgment. The lightness of her footsteps as she walked towards the barn belied the weight she carried inside. She tried to stay positive, even in the face of this nightmare. It was a part of who she was—hopeful, always looking for the silver lining, even if it was hard to see through the darkness. But deep down, she knew she had to be more than just the girl who saw the bright side. This world required strength, and if she wanted to survive, she'd need to find her place in it.

As she neared Maggie and Beth, she heard laughter from the direction of the RV, where Dale and Glenn were sharing a rare light-hearted moment. Rick stood a few feet away, deep in conversation with Hershel, his face set in that familiar expression of quiet determination. Lori was helping Carl, her eyes flicking warily over to where Andrea was cleaning her rifle.

Nora took it all in, observing how everyone had found their roles, their purpose. She still wasn't sure where she fit, but for now, this was home. She wasn't a fighter like Daryl, or a leader like Rick. But she knew she had something to offer—maybe it wasn't as visible, but it was there. She was good with horses, good at gathering, and she knew how to grow things. Hershel always said that life has a way of blooming, even in the most desolate of places. Maybe, just maybe, she could help this place bloom too.
As she got to work, her mind wandered back to Logan, to Jack. To everything she'd lost. She didn't dwell on it for long, though. There wasn't time for grief in this world, not when survival demanded so much of them all.

Maggie glanced at her as she tossed a bale of hay into the pen. "You good?"

"Yeah," Nora replied, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. "Just thinking."

Maggie raised an eyebrow but didn't push. There wasn't much room for deep conversations these days. You just moved forward, one foot in front of the other.

And that's what Nora did.