XXX.

His eyes still fixated at the sky, he saw the shadow passing over the clouds—the sounds of the propellers drumming in his ears, then on reflex, he lunged forward, shouting at an order, "Take cover. Now!"

Grabbing Amanda's hand again, he started running to the trees at the roadside. The others followed him quickly as they all understood what was happening.

Her eyes widened, Amanda still was staring at the sky startled, just like the rest of them. A helicopter—a fucking helicopter still operational. Rick didn't even want to imagine the people who had it—their resources… still keeping a helicopter in the sky even in two and a half year after the turn.

Then Rick thought—like a sudden lighting in his mind—perhaps that was it… the thing he'd been trying to get a little bit of proof since the beginning of the turn but had lost hope.

A little proof that somewhere out there—there was still a small—the smallest fraction of their old-world order; the police, feds, DHS, national guards, military itself—hell even CIA.

Those agencies that might have contingency plans—people who had been trained perhaps not something like this—not for the dead returning, but at least people with a plan.

He still didn't know how much it would mean—even if it did—the world had turned to another place, and people still measured you on how much they could take from you—but still… A helicopter in the sky meant at least a better technology… And Amanda—his wife was going to have to give birth to twins in less than five months.

Quickly he quickly took out his bino and craning his neck up again he levelled at the flying monster above them to pick up a familiar insignia. At first he couldn't see it anything over the black canvas, then as his head twisted to follow the length of the massive aircraft…he saw it. He focused the bino better and looked at the symbol he'd seen at the back of the helicopter.

Over the black, there were three simple rings half passing through each other like a half of Olympic rings. Two of them were above, the other one was below at them—all circling each other. Nudging at Amanda, lowering his head back, he handed the bino to her. "Look at it—"

Amanda took it fast and looked up at the aircraft under the trees too, then lowering it, she turned to him. "What's that?" she asked.

"A banner or something—" Rick reasoned as the airborne vehicle flied away over their heads. His look turned to Daryl and others as they had taken behind them under the trees. "Have you seen it before?" Rick questioned the hunter. Daryl was the one who was outside the walls the most of all Alexandria, but the other man shook his head too.

"It was an earlier model of Black Hawk—" Eugene said behind them, "Possibly date at the beginning of the millennia. They were mostly out of commission now."

Rick thought about it. He'd fairly recognized the helicopter itself too, even though not its model date like Eugene. A group or a community must have managed to find it abandoned somewhere. They'd seen crashed vehicles before a couple of times—but still—the symbol—everything. He turned to Amanda. "Have you ever seen helicopter or something at Sanctuary?" he asked to be sure.

Understanding him, Amanda shook her head. "No. I don't think it's them."

Inwardly, Rick swore. It just never ended. He wondered how far they were away from Alexandria now—more than twenty miles or so at west—and the helicopter had come from east-north, from D.C. and flied away to west-south. Rick wondered if it'd come from the old capital. If any resemblance of the old world had stayed there it must've been in D.C., that was what they'd always believed, but the symbol again made things worrisome.

"Okay—" he told to his group, grabbing his rifle, and tapped at the butt of it, a gesture he seemed to pick up on its own— "Okay, let's move. But be careful. If we saw anything suspicious, we fall back." He shook his head, "The last thing we need now is another big bad wolf in the woods."

No. They had enough.

As they moved back to the down-trotted path, Rick took Amanda's hand again. As they walked to the Junkyard, her eyes scanning the road and the trees at the roadside, she spoke beside him, "I never understood that story, you know—" she said, her eyes skipping at him for a beat before she continued, "A little girl's going to the woods alone…Why?"

Rick glanced at her, too, even though he couldn't understand her fully, "To bring her grandma's supper…" he reminded her.

"Yes," Amanda agreed, "But why she? Why she's going alone?" she asked, glancing at him again, too, "I mean what kind of a mother would send her little daughter alone out in the woods like that?" she inquired, sounding almost baffled, and Rick gave her another look, "Why she's not going with her? Why she's not going herself anyways?" She paused, grimacing, "I mean could you send Judith out here in the woods when you know how dangerous it's?"

He gave her a smile then. "Well, it's just a story, to warn children not to—"

"Go off the path," she cut in, "or else you'd get lost," she snickered as they got closer to Junkyard. "I know," she said as they passed through a fenced parking lot, clusters of old junk heaps already started mounting around them, "But it doesn't make sense," she continued, "No sense at all. When come to think of it, what the fuck the grandma is doing in the woods all alone like that, huh? Why she isn't in the village too? Why doesn't live with her family but stays in the woods. Have they left her there? I mean…so we're supposed to believe that these people left her all alone in a cabin in the woods, but then got worried about her nutrition diet?" She shook her head, snorting, then stopped, her grimace souring even further, "Maybe they just wanted to get rid of the red hood…" she said slowly.

His steps faltering for a bit inside the junkyard, he squeezed her hand. "She was okay. The Huntsman found her at the end," he reminded her.

Her eyes turned to him, her fingers tightened around his fingers as she smiled at him faintly, "Yeah, he did—" She paused as their eyes stared at the mountains of junk heaps that lay ahead of them, "I hope he brought her to his home. She couldn't stay with that sorry excuse of a family," she said, and asked, looking at her hopefully, "Would he adopt her right?"

Rick let out a low laugh, "Yeah, sure he would."

She made a face, "You know—I really don't understand the children tales… I mean—look at Goldilocks… Another little cute girl lost in the woods, and found this little cabin—again… and, seriously, there's a pattern there, too—anyways… there's that little girl the bears found in their house, all sleeping like an angel—and you'd really expect them to adopt her or something but they just got mad because of a soup and a fucking broken chair! Wow!"

Another laugh, and Rick shook his head, starting to look for the real entrance through the scattered containers. They needed to look through those heaps, search them thoroughly. This might be a gold mine if they could do it properly. From their left side, he could see a graveyard of old vehicles as well—the rusted, old vehicles rusting away in negligence and disuse, left behind, forgotten. "The chair wasn't broken," Rick told her then, turning his gaze from the old cars, "She broke it when she sat down."

She laughed back at it, "Really?" she asked, sounding incredulous, "So you say that chair wouldn't hold a little girl but could've supported a baby bear?" She shook her head, "No—darling, that chair was already broken, and anyone who sat on it would've fallen down no matter who."

Rick shook his head at her, "I can't imagine how it would've been watching TV with you like—" he said with a smile, "You would've bitched all through the plot."

She snorted with a shrug as they got close to the fences, "Yeah—not my fault they got so glaring plot holes…"

"We should make a movie night—" Rick told her then, suddenly wanting it do it with her, lounge at the couch and watch TV—they had a TV and DVD player they never used to save energy, watching TV was a luxury now, but perhaps once in a while they could do it… after the kids went to the sleep, they would watch a crime or detective movie together, lounging in each other's arms, his one hand holding the remote control, the other between her legs—and she would bitch about plot holes and inconsistency all the while Rick slowly slipped his hand under her dress—yes…she—she should wear her nightdress as well—nothing underneath… always under his hand...

A soft crunch of metal stopped his line of thoughts—as Rick spun around, his rifle raised again as their bonded hands got separated. The rest of them mimicked him as well, hearing the voice, Amanda the first one, drawing out her gun quickly as Daryl followed her behind.

As they aimed their weapons, a crowd slowly moved out behind the containers, holding guns—pointed back at them.

# # #

Well, if their lives been a story, Amanda would've called themselves idiots right now—walking in a trap once again with their own feet.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained… she reminded herself then, it was the way of progress, but she really fucking hated it—guns pointing at each other in a standoff.

And the worst part—the worst part—they were outnumbered again. The group didn't look like having a lot of guns, but they were a crowd, fifty or more so, all looking like had escaped from Mad Max universe.

Junkyard people—she looked at them carefully, their appropriate post-apocalyptic attire, long coats, filthy old jeans or leather. Her eyes wandered briefly over the Junkyard, who—who would live in such a place?

Well, the answer was just staring back at her.

No one had talked yet—they were just staring at each other at the end of their barrels—then suddenly, Rick lowered his rifle in a single motion, almost crafty—showing off in a weird way, then he started smiling.

# # #

Her gun still trained ahead, Amanda's eyes trailed off toward him, giving him a look, almost saying seriously as Rick smiled at the newcomers.

As he smiled at the new turn of events.

If their lives would've been a show, Rick would've cried out at TV now oh, come one, but then again who didn't appreciate some occasional plot twists every now and then. There lay his last plot twist, looking at him blankly as Rick smiled at them faintly.

He had wanted guns—wanted more people to wield them, and in a twist of fate, he had found them. Why wouldn't have felt…happy for that?

"Rick?" Amanda asked him, her eyes still on him warily, her voice sounding as if—what the hell are you doing?

"Lower your guns," Rick told them, motioning with his head, "We need these people."

"Rick!" she said back, and it meant, you can't be serious about it!

"Lower your guns," he repeated—I am.

# # #

Amanda couldn't fucking believe it.

They—they were here to look for supplies, not recruit people. And these people—they were something that made her on pin and needles with these people, with their cold, detached stares, their spaced-out lingering movements as they calmly paced around them, holding their guns as if holding a piece of bread in their hands.

Their leader was tall, willowy, skinny woman with a weirdest hair style Amanda had ever seen on someone, the end of the world or not. Back at the days, she must've dyed her dark brown hair as the ends of her hair that loosely touched at her shoulders were bleached blonde, or she'd found someone to put some ombre in her hair in the apocalypse.

Like the rest of her people, she moved in that gliding, slow listless manner, even the way she talked was the same, no complete sentences but broken—detached words as if she couldn't bother with anything more than that.

After Rick had made them lower their guns, they'd taken them, they brought them the junkyard's deeper parts through a container. Around them, the heaps of junk and garbage lay as far as the eye could see, old furniture, scraps, broken tools and machines, of all sorts. It—it was really impressive in a way—if it didn't smell this awful, even for their standards, and they weren't standing in a bowel of mountains of shit.

"We don't share," the woman told him placidly after Rick had explained why they had come to Junkyard, why they needed metals and materials, "Don't give away."

"Yes, but you trade, right?" Rick asked back, "We can trade."

The woman shook her head, and craned backwards slowly, and gave Rick a through look, assessing, "We take," she said, her eyes firmly on Rick, "we don't bother."

Amanda scowled, not only because of the words, but the look she was giving her husband. The urge to leap forward and grab his hand, marking her territory boosted in her like a wildfire, but she barely held herself back from doing it, hanging on her last shred of reason with everything she got… God, she fucking hated when this happened!

And why—why each time they discovered a new community, she needed to…shoo away flies…

"Look—" Rick told them then, "I'm sorry but you have to understand that your lifestyle—" he continued, "is danger as well. Those people I told you—the Saviors, they'll come for you one day too. They're expending. They will find this place, too, then they'll make you bother."

When Negan had made a move at Hilltop, it was what they had been afraid too—that if they'd stayed still—if they hadn't fought, they would've lost everything they had.

"Want us fight?" the woman asked Rick back, tilting her head aside, her neck still craned a bit back, "Want us fight for you?"

"With us—" Rick corrected.

"We don't fight—" the woman cut him off, and lowering her head down back, she gave Rick a faintest smile, "We don't bother."

"We'll give you guns—" Rick said then, fixing at her a look, "You can keep them later."

That made her listen to Rick more carefully, Amanda could tell. There were fifty or more so people, but only a dozen of them had weapons. "How many?" she inquired further.

"As many as can fight—" Rick encountered.

"What else?" the woman bargained further.

"You'll have your own share—" Rick said back as vaguely as possible.

Amanda held a snicker inside. She'd bargained first Daryl then with Rick to split the suppliers at Grady, and she was expecting from the woman demand from Rick something more valid too, but the taciturn tall woman only nodded at him, her eyes still heavily on Rick, "Hmm—" she said aloud, and flicked a hand toward him, "Come."

The woman turned on her heels, her second in commands, following her, as Amanda shared a look with Rick. He gave her a little half of a nod, then he turned around too—and Amanda lunged forward and grabbed his hand.

No!

No—he couldn't go away from her!

They could never be separated from each other, ever again.

"I'm coming, too!" she hissed. The woman and his company heard her a few feet ahead of them and turned aside. The woman's eyes fell on the tangled fingers, and a derisive small smile curved her lips up, but then turned back again and started walking away.

Their hands still tangled, Rick gave her a look, and she read it inside stay—but she returned it sternly. No.

No. Whatever place they were going now, Rick wasn't going there alone. No.

But they weren't only going a place, they were climbing… They'd made a turn around the biggest mountain behind them, and Amanda saw a sort of steps over the heaps, almost like a staircase. The woman, the name they still didn't know, started climbing it—and Amanda started thinking this was a very big mistake. A big, fat ass, stupid mistake.

They reached at the top of the mountain of garbage a few minutes later, Amanda holding her bump with one hand as the other still grabbed by Rick. The climb wasn't difficult, even the smells had started lessening closer to the open air. Amanda was very glad that her sickness had started lessened too, otherwise she could've thrown up since now a couple of times.

It hadn't finished yet, of course, even in the second semester, some of the mornings, she still woke up with her insides churning, but overall everything was getting better with her pregnancy, something that made feel all better—her thoughts cut off stiffly as they reached at the peak, and Amanda stared ahead—the piles, and piles, the mountains after mountains, stretching out around them in the open sky in a strange color of grey and dust.

The scene… it was…monumental in a weird way—seeing it above, like all filth and dirt down there had turned into something else, something grander, something majestic, something…beautiful. Rick was the same beside her too, gazing at the sight lay around them.

"Home—" the woman waved her hand in the air calmly—slowly, understanding their bewilderment, and repeated, "Home." She turned to Rick, "All of us, here since the change," the woman continued, taking a breath between each sentence before she started another, "Things grow harder. We open cans, sometimes inside's rotten. Time's passed. Winds are changing. Things are again changing."

Amanda let out a resigned. "The times they are a-changing," she quoted, the old famous tune turning some back of her mind, and somehow it felt appropriate, because it was the truth everyone felt deep in their bones… Change… Better or worse… she didn't know yet, but it was coming.

As if the woman understood what she'd meant, she turned to Amanda, "If your time to you is worth saving—" she quoted back, "Then you better start swimmin'"

Her lips almost curved up in that small way again before she turned aside to Rick and threw him off the mountain of garbage.

# # #

"Rick!" Amanda's scream echoed in his ears as Rick tumbled over the slope of the trash mountain and landed in a small opening at the ground where from the other side he could still hear the other's screams, and above his head, Amanda's furious voice shouted, "Goddammit! What did you do!"

He pulled back at his feet, and lifting his head to locate her upward, he raised his arm too, "I'm all right," he shouted back at her, told the others at the other side. He—he seemed to be in a sort of—arena, he understood as his eyes roamed over the place quickly.

Rick lifted his head again, this time to the damn woman, "What's this?" he yelled.

"Need to know you're real with this—" the woman's calm voice carried over him from above, "that you're worth it."

With fury, he shook his head seething. She was going to test him. He fucking hated being tested! He gritted his teeth in anger, but whatever the test was, at least this time it wasn't Amanda. No. Amanda was still above at the top of the mountain—thank god!

"Look—we don't need this—" Amanda started, Rick heard from above, "I mean—whatever it's—we don't need it—"

The woman gave her a look, and for a moment, Rick felt a scare that the bitch was going to throw her down too—but she only shrugged in return, "Need to know."

"Fine!" she yelled, "What he has to do?"

"This—" the woman answered back then her head bowed down, and her eyes found him, and Rick heard a metal stretching behind him—He spun on his kneel at the sound.

What he'd first assumed as a sort of a metal was a metal…door, and it was opening—revealing a cage like structure behind, then Rick understood. It was a container deep under the heaps, and from inside a…monster was coming.

Rick swore under his breath, seeing it wobbling at him blindly.

A walker—an armored with spikes walker was coming at him—drawn to the sounds he'd just made tumbling down—spikes pushing out of the breastplate and helm he was wearing, his mouth opening and closing in fervor beneath it, growling like a wild animal.

"Rick!" Amanda screamed above him again as Rick turned and started climbing over the garbage wall—but inside this side there were no steps like outside—and for every step he took, he took a back—and fell down on the ground again.

A fucking gladiator… They were going to make him fight like a fucking gladiator. Not only for entertainment, but also to prove himself if he was worth of it.

Well, if that was what the woman wanted to see—then Rick was going to show her. He rose to her feet again, turning madly around himself to locate something to use as weapon as the walker lunged forward—He ducked and grabbed the first thing his hand found—a keyboard.

With all of his force, he banged it against the helmed head but of course the plastic thing broke in two just at the same time it hit at the steel. The walker launched at him further, his teeth clinking in hunger with his loud growls.

Without nothing else to do, Rick put his hand at the head, pushing the head back as it tried to get a bit on him—a spike on the helm going through his palm.

Pain cut him in—but growling out the same, Rick pushed the rotting head away from him-sweat running over his back with pain—blood pouring out of his hand over his wrist soaking him… "Rick!" and Amanda was still screaming above—

With a screaming growl, his fury and anger boiling in his veins with pain, he lifted his hand and kicked the dead off, all the while cutting inside of his thigh as well.

The walker dropped off away from him at the ground as Rick stumbled back against the garbage wall—pain sending hot surges of fire through all of his body, every nerve in his body screaming with it—the wound at his leg throbbing even worse than his hand…

And the fucking thing was coming at him again— "Rick—!" Amanda yelled at him again above, and momentarily his head shot up at her from the monster in front of him, and saw her—she was on her knees, almost crawling towards him—her eyes shining—but not with unshed tears, but with fury— and their eyes held each other for a second, "Get up, and fight!" she shouted, "Show her your goddamn BITE!"

His eyes grew heated as their eyes still glued at each other, then Rick turned, got up, and fought.

He looked at the skipping walls—garbage piled up on another and other—and started pulling them down—toward the walker.

Some of them also hit him, but quick on his feet Rick managed to get away at the last second, moving around the walker, and managed to get him under a pile at the third pull as big bags of trash raining upon them, sticking at the undead beneath.

Wobbling on his injured leg, he walked to the walker, and his eyes caught a piece of broken glass on the ground. Kneeling, he also saw a piece of cloth nearby, and picked up the glass wrapping the cloth around it.

He knelt then beside the monster and started stabbing it under the helm, from wherever he could get a hit, again and again—again and again…his blood now singing with fury and anger, and pain—his nerves releasing its pent-up energy, the putrid, stinking black blood of the dead sprayed at his face—his hands once again all covered in blood.

With the final move, his chest growling out, he angled his elbow and brought the glass just under the chin inside the brain fully.

The movements of the dead ceased—and Rick threw the glass away, soaked with blood, dirt and trash, his leg open cut, his palm nailed—crucified—and Rick threw his hands up in the air, and screamed at the woman, "Is this enough?" he asked, "Are you done?"

In answer, the woman nodded at her people, and a rope soon threw out down.

# # #

Amanda stared at the man down at the ground, bloodied, scarred, injured, but at his feet, his arms open in the air like a victor in an arena, which he was.

"Is this enough?" he screamed at the fucking garbage queen, "Are you done?"

And that moment he really looked like a…superman—a man who could do anything—anything at all as long as he believed in himself, and if Amanda hadn't been already insanely, crazily, out of her damn mind in love with him, she would've been completely gone in that moment.

But she'd been already gone—so she only wanted him back now—so she could hold him back in her arms.

She lifted her head as the damn bitch nodded at the other two, looking impressed as well, and there was that glint in the woman's eyes as well—Amanda's eyebrow's drew in. She pulled back at her feet and looked at the woman. The woman looked at her back, twisting her head aside, as the other two threw a rope below, and started pulling Rick up. "He got the bite," the garbage trash then stated calmly, looking at her.

For a second or so, Amanda thought to throw her down too—she really—really thought about it—but a second later, her eyes glaring she let out a hiss—a hiss clearly saying fuck off, and turned aside to move close to the edge—to Rick.

He was back at the top a few seconds later, and Amanda held the rope too as Rick hoisted himself on the ground where they sat knelt down—his hands were trembling with pain, his whole body soaked wet with perspiration and blood. Amanda lunged forward and held him, wrapping her arms around his torso—helping him as he pulled himself up on his knees… His hand—his uninjured hand came to her head for a second, holding her softly as he gave a brief kiss at the top of her head, and started standing up.

"Are you done now?" he asked again to the woman, who stood there watching the scene serenely, "Will you fight?"

"Guns—" the woman said, "Two for each one—" she demanded with the same way she spoke, taking a breath before each sentence, "Then we fight your fight."

Rick nodded.

"After, we get half of what's won."

Amanda let out a loud laughter, "And I want a pony," she said back.

"Half."

"You'll get a quarter," Rick said in return, and motioned with his head around, "And we'll get what need."

"Half."

"Quarter."

"Half," the woman repeated, "And take what you want."

"A quarter, we take what we want, and you get applesauce from us." Rick wobbled at his injured leg, walking to her side, "Say yes," he demanded back, his eyes still on the bitch.

"And a night—" the woman said back though, looking straight at him back in the eye, "two of us."

His hand—his good left hand held hers, "I'm married."

"I don't care."

Then Amanda lost it— "You fuc—" but Rick held her back, and looked at the fucking bitch coldly, "I do. No night. Say yes."

"She can come," the woman returned, "I don't mind."

"I do," Rick repeated, "Say yes."

The woman gave them a look, and her lips curved up, "Then another time."

Rick held her arm with his injured hand, "One time, this time. Now or at no time—" he told her flatly with that tone of his voice, and Amanda wanted to rip off something—gouge the bitch's eyes out…wanted to rip off her throat— "Say yes."

The woman looked at her blood-stained wrist, and smiled at him, "Yes—" she said then, nodding, "Go now. Bring my guns."

"What's your name?" Rick shouted behind her back.

"Jadis," she whispered back.

# # #

At their way back at Oceanside, she was furious, seething with a silent fury sitting beside him at the backseat as Daryl drove the car.

He rested his head back, and closed his eyes, every inch of his body was on fire now—pain drilling in him…he moved his left hand slowly at the seat—and touched her hand. She didn't run away, but she didn't make another move, either, Rick could tell behind his closed eyes.

He slightly nudged at her fingers then, tapping at the tip of her fingertips. Her fingers still stayed still for a second, then slowly—she started nudging his as well. Turning his head aside, still rested at the backseat, he opened his eyes and looked at her… Resting back, she was looking at him at the same way, too, her head turned aside, tossed back—then Rick slowly, tiredly, smiled at her—a little one as his hand clasped her fully—his fingers tightening over hers.

With a little sigh, she glided over the seat then, closed the inches between them, and rested her head over his shoulder.

In silence, Rick rested his head over hers in answer, and kissed her hair.

# # #

Later in night, Amanda wrapped his hand after they'd finished his leg. She—she was taking care of his husband, like he'd taken care of her, smoothly, with compassion and affection, all of her fuming annoyance in the car forgotten.

She knew it hadn't been his fault, she knew he had done nothing—the bitch, the goddamn bitch had thrown herself at him without any qualm—but she was really fucking hating it!

"What if she betrays us?" she asked him,

"She might—" Rick answered, his bowed head, checking her as she turned the bandage Cyndie had given them around his palm, "But we'll keep her in line."

In silence, she hummed, "Hmm—" but didn't say anything else, but kept dressing his wound. It was a nasty one, and it was going to leave a scar, like a stigmata in his hand, branded—singled out.

But he was singled out…in a way, and everyone with half of a brain picked it up at the first sight —getting intrigued—like how she had been—couldn't have helped herself… how Negan had been… how this garbage bitch… Jadis had been… the bitch had looked like she couldn't have helped herself, either.

A night—only two of us…

She pushed the words away off her mind, because she knew if she had thought of them, she would've gotten angry again. In the car, she had been fuming, and of course, without a word, he'd managed to get her calm down—as docile as a nice house cat, her quills all patted down.

She sighed out. This…Jadis looked like—she would be a trouble, but well, Amanda could always show the bitch her own bite, too. She wasn't a nice house pet, she was a—tigress. Right that moment, she decided the next time she saw the bitch, Shiva was going to be with her. Let see if the bitch would demand then that her husband spend a night with her!

When she was done with wrapping his hand, Rick threw himself back at the low cot with a loud, tired groan. He closed his eyes, his good leg slightly dropped over the edge, and gently caught her arm, and started pulling her down. "Come—" he murmured, his eyes still closed, scooting away to make her room, "…sleep."

She shook her head and nudged him at his side— "Nope—not yet—we're not done yet."

"I am—" he murmured.

"Pfft—your clothes stink, mister—" she told him, starting to pull out his blood and sweat soaked shirt off from his jeans, "Not gonna sleep like this."

He opened his eyes, and gave her a lopsided grin, "Hmm… you gon' take care of me now?"

"Damn right!" she told him with small smile, unbuttoning his shirt, "You're my baby, too."

He chuckled out, then caught her arm again, and puller her down against his chest— "Rick!" she cried out in protest, but it was a weak one as she was also giggling— "Rick!"

He kissed her soundly at the lips. "Go on, then, Mrs. Grimes" he told her then pulling back a second later and released her. "Take care of me," he said, throwing his hand backward in a mock of defeat as his eyes held hers captive, "Do take care of your husband, baby."

She smiled at him, and leaned down again, and gave him a kiss back in answer.

Always.


I admit I was waiting to Amanda meet Jadis, he he. Poor girl, almost everyone they meet get a thing for Rick :) But I think Jadis and Rick would make an interesting couple after Season Eight, they really was having chemistry, in my opinion, even more than Michonne and Rick. So wanted to play that here, as well.

That thing with children tales was something we discussed last week with my cousins on whatsapp-yes, we were that bored, stuck at home. The talk came up to the red hood hiding and we started talking, and at the end, the general consensus was that "Oh my god! They must've wanted her death!" I mean, really, if you think about it, why do you send a little girl in the woods all alone? LOL. I thought a character like Amanda might feel the same, as well.