〰

The morning sun cast a soft, golden light over the farm, but the atmosphere was anything but peaceful. The entire camp was bustling about, a hive of activity. Everyone was working hard to fortify the farm, to make it safer. That meant people hammering the outside walls of the farmhouse right behind her, hammering the barn shut, fixing the RV—all that sorts of stuff.

Normally, Elodie would have sat in any place other than the one she was right now—that being on the wooden fence that lined the edge of the porch of the farmhouse. All the slamming of the hammers would have driven her crazy, but she couldn't hear them now. So she could sit there peacefully and rest her head against the column of the porch, swaying her legs back and forth through the gaps between the railings.

She wore a slightly oversized gray jumper, a hand-me-down from Beth that was still a bit too big. Elodie didn't mind; it was cozy, and cozy was exactly what she needed. The weather was getting colder, and everyone was layering up with coats and sweaters. Sweaters, though, were still a bit too much for Elodie—she felt like she'd melt like a little icecube if she put one on.

Her head throbbed with a headache, her eyes red and puffy from the tears shed the previous night. She knew Daryl had heard her crying, despite her efforts to stay quiet, sharing the same tent as him and all. She hoped she hadn't kept him awake.

Every time she tried to close her eyes, the image of Dale's lifeless body crept into her mind. Because of this, she had barely slept. It was evident in her appearance: dark circles shadowed her eyes, her face was as pale as a ghost, and her hair was a tangled mess—until Maggie had brushed it out for her.

Absentmindly, she picked at the peeling paint on the fence, her eyes tracking the people moving across the fields. Daryl moved between the barn, the farmhouse, and the cars, gathering supplies and checking on Randall. Andrea and Glenn were busy fixing the RV. Beth and others worked on the farmhouse. Everyone was doing something. Even Carl was helping out.

Elodie, however, was just staring off into the distance, lost in thoughts of Dale and his funeral. It felt surreal looking at the filled-up grave, knowing it held his lifeless body. It was strange realizing he was gone, unable to play games with her or listen to her ramble about insignificant things only he seemed to care about.

When all of this started, Elodie hadn't known how many people she would meet—both good and bad. This group, though, they were good. They cared for each other, took care of each other, made each other laugh. They loved each other.

She also hadn't known how terrible the loss of a loved one could be. Before all this, she hadn't lost anyone close to her—only distant relatives she barely knew. She had never been to a funeral.

Then, when Jamie died, she felt the sting of loss for the first time. Losing her big brother left a hole in her heart that couldn't be filled. He was her brother, and no one else could take that place. And then, her mother. It hurt to think about. Elodie knew Catherine hadn't been the best mother, but she was still her mother.

After that, it all happened so fast. Jacqui, Amy, Ed, and Jim had died. Then it was Sophia, and now Dale.

Was it ever going to end? Would people ever stop dying?

Am I goin' to die?

She hadn't noticed Daryl approaching until she felt a gentle nudge against her back, causing her to flinch and snap her head around, only to be met with Daryl standing behind her. He gave her what was probably supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a tight-lipped frown. Elodie smiled back at him, realizing it didn't look any better than his forced smile. She could feel the effort tugging at her lips.

Leaning against the wooden fence next to her, Daryl's hand seemed to itch toward the inner pocket of his vest. Elodie slightly furrowed her brow, curious about what he was reaching for.

Slowly and carefully, he revealed a small handgun in his hands. Elodie's eyes widened, her hands instinctively pulling back. Why was Daryl holding out a gun to her?

"Take it," he mumbled, holding the gun out fully now, ready for her to take.

"Mm-mm." Elodie firmly shook her head, an expression of pure shock and a slight hint of fear. "Don't want to. Stop."

She knew what Daryl was trying to tell her. He had been glancing at her constantly while working around the farm, possibly making sure she was still alive and hadn't gotten eaten by a surprise walker. Having had enough of keeping an eye out for her every other second, he wanted her to carry a gun to protect herself.

Crazy.

"No gun," Elodie said, pushing Daryl's outstretched hand back to his chest, shaking her head once more.

Daryl sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly as he put the gun away. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "Alright, fine," he muttered, more to himself than to Elodie. He looked down at her. "But ya still need somethin' to protect yourself with."

Elodie watched him warily, her brow still furrowed in confusion. She trusted Daryl, but the idea of carrying a weapon made her uneasy. She had never imagined needing one before all of this started. The world was a different place now, though, and she understood, even if reluctantly, why Daryl was insisting.

Reaching into another pocket, Daryl pulled out a small, sheathed knife. The blade was barely longer than her palm, but it looked sharp and sturdy. He clipped the holster onto the waistband of her jeans, making sure it was secure. Elodie's eyes widened again, this time with curiosity.

"Look," Daryl said, his voice gentler now. "This ain't as scary as it looks. Just a knife. Simple. Easy to handle."

Elodie looked back up at him, slightly tilting her head in confusion.

"Right, yeah—" Daryl grumbled, scolding himself for forgetting she—of course—couldn't hear him.

Leaning a bit closer, he showed her how to unclip the knife from the holster, his hands moving slowly and deliberately to show her clearly. "See? Ya just press here," He held the knife up to her, ensuring she could see what he was doing, "and it comes out. Hold it like this. And if ya ever need to use it, ya just—" He mimicked a stabbing motion, then immediately stopped and lowered his hand when he saw Elodie's eyes widen further.

Biting down on her lip nervously, she nodded to show she understood. Daryl wanted her to have a weapon, or rather something to defend herself with, and she absolutely did not want a gun. She felt like it was too violent. The loud gunshot would make her ears ring, and maybe her hands would shake. She didn't want to carry a gun. A knife could be a good compromise.

Once Daryl saw that Elodie had accepted the fact she had to carry a weapon around from now on, he nodded at her and pushed himself off of the fence. He patted a hand against the side of his leg before awkwardly nodding again and turning around, going back to the task he had been tending to before deciding to head over to Elodie.

Elodie leaned sideways until she was sitting against the porch column, a sigh escaping through a slight gap between her lips. She watched Daryl's figure leave until he wasn't in view anymore, tapping her fingers on her thigh.

She tried not to look at the knife now holstered on her waist, unwilling to admit it made her feel a twinge of fear. She didn't want to hurt anyone, so why should she carry a weapon that could?

She knew Carl carried one and had secretly taken a gun a few days earlier. But Carl was brave, and Elodie wasn't. Carl wasn't easily scared, while Elodie flinched at every unexpected touch.

She wished she could be more like Carl. Things would be easier, she thought. Maybe she wouldn't be so scared of Shane if she were more like Carl. Maybe she'd be able to laugh in his face, roll her eyes, and walk away. Jamie would have.

So why couldn't she? If Jamie had been brave enough to do things like that, why not her? Didn't they share the same blood? Weren't they at least a little alike?

Spotting movement near the treeline, she straightened her shoulders. As she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glaring sun, she froze.

That movement was Shane, dragging a bound and gagged Randall through the grass and into the woods. Every few seconds, Shane looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one saw him.

Is Shane going to kill Randall?

Her first instinct was to stay right where she was, pretend she hadn't seen a thing. But wouldn't that be the same as killing Randall herself?

She whipped her head around but froze when she saw that both Beth and Jimmy had disappeared, most likely having gone inside for a break.

Oh no, no, no, no!

She quickly turned her head back just in time to catch a last glimpse of Randall being pushed through the trees, out of sight.

An annoying, nagging voice told her she couldn't just sit there and do nothing. She knew for sure that Shane wasn't supposed to kill Randall. Rick hadn't given any orders to do so. As far as Elodie knew, they were supposed to drive him far away and leave him on the road to fend for himself. In her opinion, that was worse than killing him, but she hadn't voiced it.

But she doubted Shane would give Randall a peaceful death. The way he looked at the shed with hatred burning in his eyes, his whole body tense, his breathing quickening—Shane wanted Randall dead. And badly.

But Elodie knew Randall was just a kid, like her. He didn't deserve to die. He deserved a chance.

Stay away from the barn.

The image of Dale's lifeless body flashed in her mind, and she knew she couldn't let another person die if she could help it.

But Randall's not in the barn.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Elodie slid off the porch and landed softly on the ground. She glanced around to ensure no one had noticed her, then sprinted toward the treeline, her footsteps muffled by the grass.

She reached the treeline and slipped into the trees, moving as quickly and silently as she could. She kept her eyes trained on the distant figure of Shane, who was dragging Randall deeper into the woods. Every now and then, he would glance over his shoulder, but Elodie managed to duck behind a tree or bush each time, her breath catching in her throat.

When she peeked out from behind a tree, she saw Randall trip and fall face-first to the ground. Shane quickly sat him up by pulling him to his knees by his shirt, kneeling down in front of him. He shushed Randall, holding him by the head.

But, he didn't look angry.

Why does he look so calm?

Slowly, Shane lifted the blindfold off Randall's face, causing the boy to flinch and whimper in fear. Shane held him by the neck, though not too tightly. He started to speak to him, seemingly reassuring him.

She was beyond confused. Clinging tightly to the tree, she carefully peeked out from behind it. Shane had his back turned to her, so she felt safe doing so. Randall didn't even notice her.

After a moment, Shane removed the tape from Randall's mouth so he could speak. Shane quickly grabbed the boy's chin, as if warning him. Elodie assumed Randall wasn't supposed to make a sound now. It didn't look like Shane was planning to kill him, though. Was he letting him go? Had she been wrong, and had Rick given Shane the task of driving Randall out?

Then, Shane hauled Randall to his feet. Elodie quickly ducked further behind the tree, holding her breath. When she peeked back out a moment later, she saw Shane pushing Randall forward, forcing him to lead the way to... somewhere.

Where ya goin'?

With her heart pounding in her chest, Elodie cautiously followed, keeping a safe distance and staying hidden behind the trees. She moved as quietly as she could, her footsteps barely making a sound on the forest floor. She hoped.

As they walked, she kept wondering where Shane was taking Randall. It wasn't toward the road, as she had initially thought. Instead, they seemed to be heading deeper into the woods, away from the safety of the farm.

Suddenly, Shane turned as he walked, causing Elodie to crouch behind a bush, barely daring to breathe as she watched them from a distance. Through the leaves, she waited until Shane turned back around, letting out a tiny breath of air.

She didn't know why she was still following them. Maybe Shane was taking a detour to the road, because it didn't look like he was going to kill Randall. His hands were still bound together, though his blindfold had been taken off, and he could talk. And he looked almost excited. If you knew you were going to die, you wouldn't look as excited as Randall did at that moment.

When Shane turned around once more, Elodie shrank deeper behind the bushes, still terrified he'd see her. Why? She didn't know. Maybe she should just go back.

Then, Shane turned back around and sped up his walking until both he and Randall were behind a thick tree.

I can't see.

Carefully, Elodie scrambled out from behind the bushes, cautiously edging to the right.

Shane and Randall came into view, and Elodie watched in horror as Shane grabbed Randall by the neck. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Shane twisted Randall's head with a sickening crack.

A gasp escaped her lips as she recoiled in shock, her eyes widening in disbelief. She felt sick to her stomach, bile rising in her throat as she watched Randall's limp body hit the ground.

Shane stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he turned and began to walk back the way he came. Elodie's breath caught in her throat. She knew she should run, should hide, but she was frozen in place, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene before her.

And then he looked at her.

A shiver danced down her spine as Shane's gaze pierced through her. She wanted to bolt, to scream, but her limbs refused to obey.

Shane's stare seemed to pierce through her, and for a moment, he seemed taken aback. The surprise quickly morphed into something colder, more calculating. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to her.

Elodie's heart hammered in her chest as she started to retreat, her eyes darting around frantically for any sign of help. But there was none. It was just her and Shane.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her palms slick with sweat as Shane's gaze bore into hers, his steps slow but sure. He was coming closer and closer.

Then, without even realizing what she was doing, she fumbled for the knife Daryl had given her, her fingers closing around its hilt. The same knife she had been so hesitant to accept. Gripping it tightly in her hand, she held it out in front of her, her fingers trembling with fear.

As Shane approached, she stepped back, her breaths shallow and rapid. He held his hands out in what seemed like a gesture of reassurance, but Elodie couldn't shake the fear coursing through her veins.

"Elodie—" Shane began, his voice low, but a chuckle escaping him. "It's okay—it's alright! Look, just—let's get back, yeah?"

"Stay away!" she finally managed to choke out. 

Shane's smile faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Elodie—"

But Elodie didn't let him finish. With a trembling hand, she tightened her grip on the knife and took another step back, her eyes never leaving his out of fear that if they did, he'd grab his chance and attack her.

"Don't—don't come any closer," she warned, though fear laced her voice. She felt a sob rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, trying to focus on the knife in her hand. She took another shaky step back, her mind racing.

Shane's eyes flicked to the knife and then back to Elodie. His smile faltered, replaced by a look of irritation. "Elodie, put the knife down. You don't want to hurt anyone, do you?" He took another step closer, his hands held out in front of him in what he likely thought was a reassuring gesture.

Elodie felt a surge of panic as he advanced, her instincts screaming at her to run. She tightened her grip on the knife, her knuckles turning white. "I said stay away!" she cried, her voice breaking.

When Shane suddenly lunged forward with a growl, his hand outstretched in an attempt to grab her, Elodie reacted without thinking. With a cry of fear, she swung the knife wildly, the blade catching Shane just below his eye.

Shane staggered back, a pained cry escaping him as blood streamed from the wound. Elodie stared in horror at what she had done, her heart racing.

I hurt Shane.

I hurt someone.

Panic surged through her, and she did the only thing she could think of: she turned and ran.

She darted through the trees, her feet barely touching the ground as she sprinted away from the clearing, away from Shane.

The trees seemed to blur together, the forest becoming a maze of shadows. She didn't know where she was going, didn't know how to find her way back. All she could do was keep running, keep moving forward, and pray she'd somehow end up by the farm.

Elodie's lungs burned as she sprinted deeper into the woods, her legs straining to carry her faster. The branches and underbrush clawed at her clothes, but she barely felt them, her mind consumed by a singular focus: escape. She dared a glance over her shoulder and saw Shane, blood streaming down his face, charging after her with a look of pure fury.

The trees blurred past her as she ran, their branches reaching out like twisted fingers. The forest floor was uneven, littered with roots and fallen branches that threatened to trip her up with every step. She stumbled once, her foot catching on a root, but she managed to keep her balance, her fear giving her strength she didn't know she had.

As she ran, her eyes darted around wildly, searching for any sign of Shane. She couldn't rely on her hearing to tell her where he was. She had to see him to know if he was close. She kept glancing over her shoulder, her vision swimming with tears and panic.

She finally came to a stop, her chest heaving as she bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Sweat dripped down her forehead, mingling with the tears that streamed down her face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion.

For a moment, she stood there, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on slowing her breathing. When she finally dared to open them again, she scanned the surrounding forest, her gaze darting from tree to tree, searching for any sign of movement.

There was nothing.

But that didn't mean Shane wasn't there.

What if he was right behind her, waiting to strike when she least expected it? What if he was circling around her, closing in from all sides? What if he—

Stop!

Keep goin', keep goin', keep goin'.

With a deep breath, she pushed herself away from the tree, her legs shaking as she took a hesitant step forward.

And then another.

And another.

Until she was running again.

Her lungs burned, her legs ached, but she couldn't stop. Not yet. She pushed herself harder, darting through the underbrush and weaving between the trees. She had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to put as much distance between herself and Shane as possible.

Gotta keep movin'. Don't stop. Don't stop.

She zigzagged through the trees, hoping to throw Shane off her trail. The trees around her seemend endless, only worsening her panic.

Would she keep running until death was ready to take her? Until the forest would swallow her whole and spit her bones back out to bury in its own stomach?

As she rounded a particularly large oak, she threw herself down behind it, pressing her back up against the bark, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and she wiped it away with a trembling hand. She peeked out from behind the tree, scanning the forest for any sign of Shane.

The silence was deafening. Elodie closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, trying to think. But her mind was a mess of fear and guilt. The image of Randall's lifeless body flashed in her mind, and she had to bite back a sob. She couldn't break down now.

She opened her eyes again, scanning the forest.

Then she saw him.

Shane had stopped running, his movements slowing to an almost predatory pace. He walked slowly, his eyes scanning the underbrush, searching for any sign of her. Elodie's breath hitched as she ducked back behind the tree, pressing herself against the rough bark. She knew he was close, too close.

Shane took a step forward, then another, his head turning in every direction. He was closer now, so close Elodie could almost smell the blood on his face. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, squeezing her eyes shut as if that could make him disappear.

But he didn't disappear. He continued to search, his movements slow, his frustration growing with each passing second.

Finally, he stopped, standing just a few feet away from her hiding spot. Elodie's heart pounded so loudly she was sure he would hear it. She pressed a hand over her mouth, biting down on her knuckles to keep from making a sound. She dared not move, not even to wipe the sweat stinging her eyes.

Shane stood there for what felt like an eternity, his eyes boring into the forest, his body tense and ready to pounce.

But then, slowly, his shoulders slumped. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, his expression shifting from anger to something almost like resignation.

"Damn it," he muttered. He turned on his heel and began to walk away.

Elodie watched him go, her body still frozen with fear. She didn't move until he was completely out of sight.

When she was sure he was gone, the tension in her body finally broke. She slumped against the tree, the tears streaming down her face as she pressed both hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs. Her entire body shook, the knife slipping from her grasp and falling to the ground beside her.

〰

Night had fallen, casting the forest into darkness as Elodie continued to wander aimlessly through the dense undergrowth. Her footsteps were slow and unsteady, her mind numb with shock and exhaustion. The events of the day replayed in her mind like a nightmare she couldn't escape, the image of Randall's lifeless body haunting her every step.

The knife Daryl had given her hung limply in her hand, the blade reflecting the faint moonlight. She had forgotten she was even holding it, her fingers wrapped loosely around the handle as she stumbled over roots and rocks.

The forest was silent around her, the only sound the soft crunch of leaves beneath her feet. She didn't know where she was going, didn't know if she was even heading in the right direction. All she knew was that she couldn't stay still, couldn't stop moving, lest the darkness swallow her whole.

The air was cold and biting, each breath she released sending clouds of fog billowing out in front of her. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to fight off the chill that seemed to seep into her bones.

All she wanted was to find the farm, to find Daryl and the others, and to feel safe again. At first, she had been too scared to move, too paralyzed by fear to do anything but sit huddled by the tree where she had hidden from Shane. But as the night wore on and the cold seeped into her bones, she had found the courage to get up and try to find her way back.

Her stomach growled loudly, a reminder of her hunger. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, and now, hours later, her stomach felt like it was eating itself from the inside out

Don't think about it.

Keep walkin'.

Find the farm.

Elodie wiped away the dried tears from her cheeks, her fingers coming away streaked with dirt. She hadn't even noticed how dirty her hands had become, how the grime from the forest floor had coated her skin until now.

She tried to rub them clean on her jeans, but they were just as filthy, if not more so. With a sigh, she gave up, knowing there was nothing she could do about it now. 

But then, she froze in place, her heart pounding in her chest as she caught sight of the faint lights of the farmhouse in the distance. Her breath caught in her throat, and tears of relief prickled in the corners of her eyes. So she hadn't been walking in circles after all.

Feeling more determined now, she quickened her pace and set off towards the faint lights. It wasn't a long walk, and the lights became bigger and brighter with each step she took. She was sure she was running now, her lungs burning, breaths coming in rapid gasps.

Branches lashed at her, leaving stinging cuts on her cheeks, but she hardly noticed. She was almost home. 

Finally, she burst through the treeline and stumbled into the open field surrounding the farmhouse. The lights glowed warmly in the darkness, beckoning her closer like a guiding beacon. She could see figures moving around inside, their silhouettes dancing in the firelight. 

What if Shane was there, waiting for her? What if he had somehow beaten her back to the farm, ready to finish what he had started?

No, surely not. 

Right? 

She stumbled forward, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her as she made her way towards the porch. Her heart hammered in her chest as she reached for the door handle. Her hand trembled as she grasped it, her fingers slick with sweat and dirt. The wood creaked softly beneath her touch as it opened, revealing the inside.

"Jesus Christ."

As Elodie stood in the doorway, her hair tousled with dirt and leaves, cheeks grazed by branches, clothes filthy from her journey through the woods and a knife loosely gripped in her hand, she felt every eye in the room turn towards her. Her heart raced in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she stared back at them.

Elodie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to find her voice. She felt like she was going to collapse right there on the spot, her legs trembling beneath her as she leaned against the doorframe for support.

Before she could speak, Lori knelt before her, a hand gentle on her cheek. "Oh, sweetheart—what happened?" she murmured, brushing off leaves. Elodie could only shake her head, tears escaping as Lori enveloped her in a comforting hug, her knife clattering to the floor.

She clung to Lori, her body shaking with sobs as she buried her face in the older woman's shoulder. It took a moment for her to regain her composure enough to speak.

"Shane," she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse murmur. "He—he killed Randall."

Lori stiffened at the mention of Shane's name, her grip on Elodie tightening slightly. The room fell silent, the air heavy with tension as everyone processed Elodie's words.

Daryl stood off to the side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched Lori comfort Elodie. His jaw clenched in frustration, anger and concern swirling inside him. He didn't know what had happened out there in the woods, but seeing Elodie in such a state made him feel a bitter fury.

Stepping forward, he took Elodie from Lori. If he didn't, he might just storm out to find Shane himself.

"C'mon," he muttered, placing a hand on Elodie's shoulder to gently guide her away. Lori gave him a grateful smile before staring off into the distance, seemingly processing the information she had just been given.

Elodie glanced up at Daryl, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She let him lead her away from the crowd of people in the room, guiding her to the kitchen. She leaned against him for support as they made their way through the farmhouse, her body trembling with exhaustion and fear.

To steady herself a little more, she slowly reached up and held onto his fingers, prompting Daryl to look down at her for a moment.

He was never one for comfort or affection, preferring to keep to himself and deal with things in his own way. But as Elodie's fingers wrapped around his, he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he intertwined his fingers with hers, allowing her to hold onto him.

In that moment, it seemed like the one thing she truly needed.