constant peril → d. dixon

t h r e e

"Come one step closer I swear to god I'll shoot you," Maisie snarled, releasing the safety on her pistol.

The man took half a step forward and Maisie lowered her gun, firing a round into the dirt, a hair away from the toe of his boot.

"Well, I can't say you didn't warn me," he chuckled nervously, making sure to keep his hands out.

"Who's shooting?" Rick called, running out of the barn. He stopped short behind the man. "Who're you?" he demanded, his hand on his gun.

"I'm Aaron. I'm a friend, I swear."

"You left all that water in the road?" Maggie ventured, her eyes narrowed.

Aaron nodded. Rick stepped forward and grabbed the hood of Aaron's windbreaker, dragging him into the barn and throwing him against the ground once inside.

"How many of you are there?"

"Its just me and a friend."

"Where's your friend?"

"Back at the car."

Rick paused for a second to cast a glance at the faces staring back at him. He nodded at Daryl, eyes following the man as he strode forward, snatching the backpack off the man's back and rooting through it.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked, his gun drawn.

"A few, I guess. I don't really know."

"How many people?"

"Oh, god, none!"

"Rick," Daryl said, brandishing a thin stack from the backpack. Photos.

Rick held out his hand and Daryl passed them over. Maisie looked at them over Rick's shoulder; they were terribly grainy, and in black and white. On the top of the stack was a photo of a steel wall, followed by solar panels, and then pictures that were obviously taken the day before; Sasha shooting the dogs, a behind view of Maisie's crossbow mid drop, Maisie killing the biter with Glenn and the gas can in the background, Daryl wrestling on top of her in the woods.

Rick glared at Aaron, a dangerous glint in his piercing blue eyes. "How long have you been following us?"

"Just since yesterday, I promise."

"What else is in that bag?" Rick asked, turning his attention back on Daryl. Daryl reached inside and pulled out a spare knife, flare guns, and a jar of applesauce.

Maisie jumped when Judith started bawling. She could only imagine the last time she had been able to eat something suitable for a baby. Rick took the jar of applesauce from Daryl and examined it while his henchman handed him a small spoon from the depths of the backpack. Giving Aaron a reproachful look, Rick scooped a large amount of applesauce onto the spoon and held it to Aaron. Aaron promptly recoiled and turned away.

"Please, I didn't come all this way just to poison your baby daughter."

"Eat it," Rick insisted.

Aaron made a pleading face. "Please, don't make me eat it. I hate applesauce. My mother, bless her heart, was a very confused woman and often made me eat things I didn't like to make me tougher. I can no longer eat applesauce, salmon patties, and onions," he added, continuing his plea.

When Rick didn't falter, he frowned and took the applesauce off the spoon, holding it in his mouth. Under Rick's cold gaze, he swallowed hesitantly.

Satisfied, Rick grabbed the jar and squatted infront of Judith to feed her. The baby slowly quieted down as the food hit her stomach.

"Do you have a camp?" Michonne asked.