Okay this is my second Walking Dead story.

Enjoy the weirdness.

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August. thirteenth, 2010-

Greene Farm

Hershel stepped outside of the large two story house after looking at the Grime's boy for a breath of air and sighed the moment he was spotted by the child's father, Rick Grimes. Crud. He thought as the man stopped talking with his second in command and patted the redneck on the shoulder before heading towards the elderly man.

Here it comes, Hershel thought almost dismally. The next installment of the man begging for himself, his family and his people to be able to stay. And as much as the elder wanted to just give in and say yes, the land wasn't his. The farm wasn't his.

If Rick and his people truly wanted to stay, they would have to ask Ghost. The land and everything on it (twenty miles of woods in each direction included) belonged to her. It had ever since she had been four.

After the murders of her family for some reason that even Hershel had yet to be told.

Rick made it to the porch steps and opened his mouth to speak. To plea. To bargain. And beg when Hershel cut him off at the knee, "I know what you're going to say Rick and I'm sorry," And he was. Truly, he understood where this man was coming from, but it changed nothing and he needed to know that. "But I can't let you and your people stay."

The man's jaw tensed and he took a moment to glare at the elder. Letting him know his displeasure over his choice without words.

Well he could glare all he wanted. But Hershel couldn't speak for Ghost.

It just wouldn't be right.

He started to tell the man that he could glare all he liked but it wasn't going to help him any when his eldest daughter poked her head out of the house and yelled out, "Dad! Dad!" Fearing at first that Ricks son may have taken a turn for the worst when she suddenly held up their kitten calendar and pointed to the red circle on it and hollered out as she practically jumped around in place in excitement, "It's the thirteenth! The thirteenth!"

Feeling his heart rate drop back to normal. Oh.

One month ago today Ghost had left them at her place to keep an eye on things and made them promise to stay out of trouble for her peace of mind. And for the most part they had. All of them but Otis was still alive and kickin, and while Otis's death would hit the gal hard once she returned- there was nothing any of them could do about it.

The undead had gotten him. And while Hershel had some medical knowledge (enough to keep some alive anyways) Ghost seemed to have far more medical knowledge than he, for one so young.

Ah, he'd be glad when she finally returned home from her month long supply run and maybe took over again and perhaps sat down with Rick and talked to the man about him and his group.

Was it wrong that the mere thought of Rick being stared down and possibly intimidated by his long time family friend made him insanely happy?