The Lucky One//twd

029. Blood in the Soil

Madison's POV

By day three, I could sit up.

Barely.

My ribs screamed, and my legs felt like jelly, but I did it. Blake hovered at the edge of the bed, not touching me, but his eyes never left mine.

"You're gonna overdo it," he warned.

"Too late," I muttered.

My muscles trembled as I reached for the edge of the nightstand. Everything felt distant—like I was dragging myself up through wet cement.

I'd survived being shot.

But healing? That felt harder.

⸻

The farm was quiet. Too quiet.

Rick had made a deal with Hershel. We stay out of the barn, stay respectful, and we can stay — for now. Shane didn't like it. Daryl didn't trust it. But nobody argued too hard. We needed a win.

Even if the win came wrapped in barbed wire.

I sat on the porch in the afternoons, wrapped in a blanket, watching the wind rustle through the corn. Blake usually sat near me, silent, reading an old paperback from the farmhouse.

He didn't push. He didn't ask.

But he stayed.

And sometimes that was worse.

Because I didn't know what we were now. What he wanted. What I wanted.

We hadn't kissed since the night before I was shot.

And part of me wondered if it had only happened because the world was on fire and we needed something to feel human.

⸻

Glenn was different.

Polite. Distant. Cold, in a way I'd never seen before.

We passed each other in the hallway once. He didn't even look at me.

That cut deeper than the bullet.

⸻

It was the sixth morning on the farm when the peace broke.

I heard Rick yelling from the barn.

Daryl came riding back from the tree line, blood on his hands, shouting for someone to grab stitches.

Blake ran out the door before I could even ask what happened.

I tried to stand.

Pain flared up my side. My knees nearly buckled.

But I needed to move.

I needed to feel something again.

⸻

By the time I made it to the barn, I was out of breath and dizzy.

Rick, Shane, Blake, and Hershel stood in a tight circle.

Daryl leaned against the fence, blood on his shirt, arrow in hand. Tense.

No one noticed me at first.

Then Shane turned. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"What happened?" I asked.

Rick sighed. "Daryl was tracking for Sophia. He found something else."

He nodded toward the tarp-covered body lying nearby.

I hobbled closer. Blake reached out to stop me, but I waved him off.

I pulled the tarp back.

It was a walker. Torn apart. Face chewed nearly to the skull. Nothing new.

Until I saw the shirt.

It was plaid.

Child-sized.

Not Sophia's.

But close.

"There's more," Daryl muttered. "Tracks. And not just walkers. People."

"People?" Shane stepped closer. "You sure?"

Daryl nodded. "Fresh boot prints. Two different pairs. One smaller."

"Kidnappers?" I asked. My voice felt small.

Rick rubbed the back of his neck. "Could be. Could be someone surviving off the woods. Could be worse."

"Could be them," Daryl said. "The ones Merle used to run with."

The air went cold.

We'd all heard rumors. Gangs. Groups that didn't care about helping people. Ones that didn't just kill to survive — they did it because they liked it.

Hershel cleared his throat. "I don't want this brought onto my farm."

Rick's jaw tightened. "With all due respect, Doc, it's already here."

⸻

That night, I sat in the living room, staring at the fire while the others whispered plans in the kitchen.

I felt a shadow near me.

Glenn.

He didn't speak. Just sat down on the armrest of the couch, his arms crossed.

"I didn't expect to see you," I said.

"I was avoiding you," he admitted. "But that was stupid."

"I don't blame you."

He glanced at me, something raw in his eyes. "You should."

"I think I blame myself enough for both of us."

Silence.

"I'm scared," I whispered. "I'm scared the person I'm becoming isn't someone either of you will even recognize soon."

Glenn didn't answer right away. "None of us are who we were."

I looked up at him. "So what now?"

He gave me the ghost of a smile. "Now we survive. And maybe... we figure the rest out after."

Blake appeared in the doorway. His eyes flicked between us. His jaw set.

He didn't say anything.

Just turned and walked away.

⸻

Later that night, I couldn't sleep.

So I went outside.

The sky was full of stars, and the barn creaked behind me in the wind.

I walked a little farther than I should've.

To the edge of the woods.

Where the corn ended and the trees swallowed the moonlight.

And I found it.

A dead rabbit.

Clean kill. Gutted. Left in a careful pile of leaves.

Not walkers.

Humans.

A message.

They knew we were here.