t h i r t y - f i v e ↣ a fighting chance

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M E G A N

Everything we needed had been right under our noses ever since Tara came back from her little adventure.

And it didn't take long for us to scout out the new community after she finally told us about it.

Her hesitance could've costed us everything, had she chosen not to disclose her knowledge of this hidden place. But after a few days of watching the rest of the group scramble to find enough guns, the woman knew it was time to give the community up.

Tara broke a promise to their people. One that she was forced to make because, they too, had an encounter with the Saviors. An encounter that left every one of their men over the age of ten dead.

As if boys that young can even be considered men.

What worries me about our excursion to this place, is the simple fact that Carl fits well into that deadly category. And that what happened to us, the night we lost Glenn and Abe, could've easily been so much worse. Not that anyone thought it could've gotten any worse from there.

I'd never allowed myself to really dwell on the thought about what it would have been like to have lost Carl on that night. The Oceanside's story introduced a new dynamic to my fear of the Saviors: their willingness to do the same thing to a child.

A dual-sided fear that I continue to carry with me as Carl and I slowly walk along the tree-line, fully armed.

The two of us have been on some sort of perimeter watch, while the rest of the group slowly moves in, and prepares themselves for Rick's plan to corner Oceanside into agreement. Whether it be to fight alongside us, or to simply hand over their guns, the schemes will leave them with little to no choice.

I can only feel so guilt-riddled about the plan to ransack the community, before realizing that this is the only way to make sure that what happened to their men never happens to anyone again. Especially not to Carl Grimes.

"You doing okay over there?" He mutters to me. The boy doesn't turn his head away from the sound of the distant waves as he speaks to me.

I sigh, managing to bring one word to the surface. "Yeah."

"Are you really okay?" He ignores my unsatisfactory response. The boy then sucks in a breath, before I can mutter another. "And how about the truth this time?"

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