OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
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[ xvii. quite the ring to it ]
june 29th, 2012
➸➸➸
AT THE BREAK OF dawn, Astrid Lancaster was roused from her own fitful slumber by the tremors of another.
As consciousness reluctantly overtook her, she tilted her head downward, her tired vision slowly clearing to reveal the small figure of Carl Grimes writhing in a nightmare. Astrid's fingers gently brushed back the tousled strands of hair that clung to the boy's sweat-soaked forehead. A shiver coursed through her as her eyes gravitated to the evidence of the previous night's assault—a gash carved into Carl's cheek.
With a sigh, she leaned back and pulled a spare blanket closer to them. In the shaded confines of the car's interior, her silent reverie was punctuated only by the sporadic murmurs escaping Carl's troubled dreams.
The vehicle remained a solemn sanctuary for the pair. Michonne and Daryl had gone off in search of more water. Meanwhile, Rick, a mere ghost of his former self, occupied the space just outside their refuge, ensnared by his own crimson-stained hands that had wrought unspeakable horrors. Astrid understood his torment more than she would have liked to.
Suddenly, the door to the trunk of the vehicle abruptly fell open, jolting Astrid from her thoughts. Fear immediately gripped her heart, her instincts honed to shield Carl from this unexpected intrusion. Yet, as her eyes fell upon the familiar face that appeared, dread gave way to relief.
Daryl, battered and beaten, stood before Astrid. His cautious stare burned into her with an intensity that transcended mere words. For a single moment, their gaze held. Then, Daryl set his crossbow aside and clambered into the back of the car beside her. His presence enveloped the Lancaster woman, trapping her between him and Carl.
Daryl's arms wound tightly around her, and he pulled her close to his chest. Astrid, her fingers entwined with the leather of his jacket, felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in her ear. As Astrid glanced upwards, her heart ached at the sight of Daryl's bruised features. His own struggles lay bare in the red lines carved into his weathered face—a blackened right eye, a split bottom lip, and a deep cut tearing through his left eyebrow.
Astrid's fingers inched towards his bruised cheek, but he intercepted her hand and instead guided it to his chest, where it rested against the fortress of his beating heart.
"I love you," Her hunter whispered softly.
At the profound weight of three simple words, Astrid was unexpectedly overwhelmed and was forced to take a moment to collect herself before speaking. The mere sound of his voice, after a seemingly so long without it, unleashed a flood of emotions that threatened to consume her. Finally, summoning the strength to respond, she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and squeezed his hand tightly. "I love you, too," She murmured back.
