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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[ lxiii. surer deaths await ]
october 15th, 2012
➸➸➸
WITH EVERY MARRIAGE, THERE inevitably came arguments. Yet with every good marriage, there inevitably also came compromise.
Over two months ago, on the night of their hideaway wedding, Astrid and Daryl made a vow to each other to never, ever let the other go to bed angry. They could have their disagreements, most certainly, but they could never let themselves boil over into a rage that barred them from ever sharing their bed. Should such a divide dare to form, they would bridge it with words, and wrestle with their grievances until a semblance of harmony was rewoven between them.
And so, in the wake of their prior night's argument, a compromise had been made before dawn. Astrid would accompany the raid on the Saviors' compound—albeit under strict conditions. She was to stay away from direct engagement in the firefight, and instead patrol the compound's woodland perimeter alongside Maggie and Carol. She was to be the last line of defense should her husband or the rest of her family need it.
Astrid agreed to such terms. Reluctantly, though, given every fiber of her being still hated the notion of even parting from Daryl's side.
Another part of her hated even more still that, regardless of her feelings, her husband was still choosing to willingly press forward into this war with the Saviors without unequivocally taking her stance into true account.
Because she had a point. This would get violent. People would get hurt.
Yet, still, no one was on her side.
And as Rick's disapproving glares continued to bore down upon her, Astrid realized with a bitter resignation that her ability to sway him had waned. But she would no longer be his roadblock. Instead, bitterly, she would resign to her role as a custodian of the aftermath—because that was who she was. Astrid would steel herself, and she would clean up Rick's mess. She would staunch the bleeding caused by his decisions.
Even if that meant currently doing it from behind the front lines.
Now, the front beckoned from less than two miles away. At the crack of dawn, over a dozen Alexandrians—and two Hilltoppers—had set off from the Safe Zone in search of the Saviors' compound. Guided by Andy's expertise, they eventually reached a long stretch of abandoned highway on the periphery of their target's location. Now, as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows, Astrid found herself perched upon that same highway, gazing upon the silhouette of the Saviors' compound looming menacingly over the tree line.
The plan was to attack at nightfall, a tactical advantage to be seized under the veil of darkness. Subsequently, under the command of Rick, Astrid and others had spent the dwindling hours beforehand scouring the surrounding woods in pursuit of . . . dare Astrid say, grisly decoys.
