I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

A better way

Tara stared up at the person standing before her.

Already up and dressed, in a checked blue shirt and his usual wide-rimmed sheriff's hat lowered down over his bandaged eye, Carl merely stared back at her, his face a picture of worry.

"Carl, said Tara, a little taken aback by his presence. "I was just-"

But the teenager merely took a step towards the dark-haired woman, his face fixed and serious

"We need to talk," he repeated in a low voice.

Tara gulped.

Shit. Did he know that she had been about to leave and go to the Sanctuary to inform Blake and the people there, exactly what Rick and Michonne had planned?

But the look on his face, and the way he had planted himself between her and the exit out of the community, really did say it all.

And so, with a short, easy nod, Tara hooked her thumb over shoulder, pointing back towards her house.

"Well, I errr, I guess we should go inside then..." she murmured, trying to sound cool, but inside her heart was pounding.

If this got back to Rick, what would the leader of the community do?

Place her under house arrest like he had with Blake all those months ago?

Tara didn't dare think of that now.

She turned on her heel, hearing Carl follow her inside, shutting the door quietly behind himself with a snap.

It was cool and dark in the large house. And sliding her grimy jacket from her aching shoulders, Tara flung it over the railing, before walking easily into the large open-plan kitchen at the far end of the hallway ahead of her.

Her hands were shaking and she hoped now that Carl wouldn't notice.

"You..uhh...want any juice or anything?" she asked him, behind her, conversationally. But Carl didn't answer.

And it was only when she was halfway across the kitchen, that she turned back to see him shake his head in answer to her question.

"No," he said giving a small frown of frustration, obviously not here for juice or polite conversation now. "Look Tara, I heard what you said to Michonne, just now, back at the house."

The dark-haired woman gave another gulp, setting down the carton of juice she had picked up from the side with heavy sigh.

"Sorry, I, errr, I didn't think you'd be up..." she mused, regretting turning up on Michonne's doorstep at the crack of dawn like that, especially knowing that the kids would likely be asleep upstairs.

But Carl gave another shake of his head, sending his long brown hair fluttering around his shoulders.

"What you said about Blake....was it true? That she got shot, and that she lost her baby?"

Tara could have kicked herself. She should have known better than to talk about that kind of shit on their doorstep. How could she have been so stupid?

"Carl...dude, I-" she began, but Carl cut across her before she could say another word.

"That shouldn't have happened," he said suddenly. "All this....it shouldn't be this way. People are getting hurt, killed...on purpose, and that....that's on us."

Tara licked at her lips, staring up at him with sad brown eyes.

He was right. This was on all of them.

Shit. She hadn't expected this from Carl, not in a million years, his words ringing all too true to her now.

Everything that had happened until now. All the death and destruction that Rick had told everyone was down to the Saviours....they too, had equally been responsible for massacres and murder.