Dampish Your comments made me smile, thanks for that :) Yeah, agreed. Having children is especially pushed upon women as if it's something unavoidable. It's very regressive. Having children should be a choice, not an obligation or an expectation. Ooh, so, regarding Oliver's mace: there is no visual reprisentation as far as I'm aware. I deliberately tried to give him something unique, but it's definitely very heavily inspired by all the cool maces we've seen this season. Especially Luke's badass one, as well as Rick's old one. I'm glad you could imagine it well enough to enjoy it, though!

Once again, many thanks to fandomismylife for giving this chapter a super helpful proof read.

CW: Some body horror gore in this one but it's not like you're surprised.

Take a hit, shoot me down
I won't ever hit the ground
Playing dead, I'll never do
Gotta keep an eye on you

Put an X on my chest
But I'm still standing 'cause I won't forget
The hell on Earth you put me through
I'll save myself in spite of you...

The shack wall was coarse and itchy against Oliver's back. Quan's nose was buried in the crook of his neck, his breath warm there, the back of his head damp in Oliver's palm. As Quan lifted his head, he touched his nose to Oliver's chin, then kissed him, his eyes shut.

Oliver watched him.

Finally, softly, he said, "Really, man... that was only—"

"Because we might die," Quan said, stepping back and nodding, "yeah, I know. It's not complicated."

Oliver forced a smile, hoping Quan meant it. To complicate this, what they had, simply wasn't an option. Quan didn't want to come out yet, and Oliver already was. Those two facts alone refused all complication, which, when it came down to it, worked for Oliver. He got it.

He nodded gratefully and redressed.

"THE HORDE'S COMING!"

They both startled at Yumiko's distant shout. Quan ran to the distillery door and pulled aside the chair. Oliver was still yanking on his jacket as they rushed outside to the gate, squinting at what they were seeing. Oliver adjusted his glasses. There were rats, a whole mischief of them, scurrying towards them through the cornfields. Quan stumbled back in disgust.

Other wildlife began fleeing from the woods, too — deer, raccoons, even flocks of birds bursting from the treetops, squawking and cawing in panic. Oliver leapt aside before a buck ran him over. It only didn't get through the gate because Jerry shouted and waved his arms, veering it off in another direction. Oliver had never seen anything like it. He knew herds, or thought he did. He'd seen herds so big they filled all of Alexandria, so big they filled whole quarries. But this? It was a new level, just like Lydia had warned.

"See them?" Yumiko asked, ushering Luke and Kelly inside.

Oliver shook his head. "Can't even hear anything yet."

"Dear, Lord," Quan mumbled, rubbing his head.

"You pray?" Oliver asked him, goosebumps rising.

"Not since the days when my momma told me to," Quan said, breath short, "think it's too late to start up again?"

"We'll find out."

Oliver kicked a rat before it ran through the gates. It squealed and scampered away across the gardens. He helped shut the gates, then followed everyone inside Barrington House where people were busy preparing. The children were herded into the piano room by Ezekiel. Among them, Earl was saying goodbye to Adam. Enid was watching from the door. Oliver took her hand. She looked at him, fear and fierceness in her eyes. He squeezed her fingers, nodding.

In the foyer, everyone got some armour. Oliver found a pair of knee guards, elbow guards, a glove, and a leather breast plate. He found Carol in Maggie's old office looking up at the six painted portraits on the wall. The Greene family: Beth, their brothers, their mother, Hershel, and in the middle, Glenn. When Carol noticed Oliver watching her, she squeezed her bow in her hand and walked over to him.

"I let Negan out of his cell," she said.

Oliver blinked and felt his brow crinkle together.

Carol watched him. She swallowed.

She said, "We made a deal."

Oliver's throat dried up. "A... deal?"

"Please don't hate me."

Oliver was speechless.

"Just trust me," Carol said, nervous, but stern. "I... need you to do that for me. I don't know if I'll get through this unless someone, unless you, trust me on this. I don't even know if I..."

Oliver had to steady his breath. His fingers were trembling so he clenched them into a fist. He could barely nod, but managed to. He nor Carol said anything else to each other. Carol just nodded back to him, patted his chest, and said, "Good luck, my love."

She disappeared outside before he could even reply.

By nightfall, the catapult handlers and all archers, Carol, Earl, Enid, and Yumiko among them, were ready at their guard decks. On the front line, the rest of the soldiers were lined up outside Hilltop's walls between the gate and the barricades. The front row carried large, studded-steel, body shields. Among the second row, Oliver stood ready with the other soldiers, mace in hand. All together, everyone listened to the night noises. For a whole hour, the growling slowly grew louder over the chirping crickets and buzzing mosquitoes. Finally, the treeline in the far distance shook, closer and closer. Birds flying overhead swooped back on themselves in order to escape the sight of what was coming. Closer and closer. Louder and louder. Oliver felt the blood drain from his face. A wall was spreading through the trees, like a slow, dull, grey tsunami. Rotten and unyielding. Distinguishable figures began stumbling into sight, their growls —all together— a white-noise ROAR.

"Formation!" Aaron commanded among the front row, peering over his body shield.

The rest of the front row cocked their shields at the ready. The clang of metal echoed across the hillside. They watched as the first emerging walkers caught themselves on Eugene's booby trap; a long active set of wires coiled around the trees behind the cornfield. Sparks flew up into the black sky. The wires fried the first hundred or so, before the sheer weight of them caused the wires to begin snapping, sending great sheets of embers bursting up through the trees — destroying the trap in a small fiery explosion.

"Split into two!" Aaron instructed. "So they don't load up! My command! Splitting ranks! And… break!"

In sync, the soldiers split down the middle, one veering left, the other right. The front row of each split met the walkers at the barricade and set down their shields against it as reinforcement. Daryl made first contact. He had a new mace, too. Not like Oliver's, though. Daryl's was a morning star on a steel chain. With it, he cracked through a walker's skull and the rest of the soldiers followed suit. The archers shot down at the dead, too. Oliver's mace crunched through skulls. He leaned over the barricade to achieve better swings, but felt it sway dangerously under the walkers' weight. The others heard it creaking and splintering, too.

"It isn't gonna hold!" Luke shouted.

They had to keep fighting.

They had no choice.

From the horde, small sacks came flying through the sky towards them, bursting as they landed and sending large splashes of some sort of sticky, brown liquid all over everyone. The scent of it reminded Oliver of the grove.

"It smells like a Christmas tree!" Jerry shouted, shaking the liquid out of his drenched hair and face.

More full sacks splashed down around them.

"It's tree sap!" Oliver shouted, dodging a sack that burst against a barricade nearby. It splashed him a little, but mostly got Quan, Beatrice, and Marco. Oliver took out another walker under his mace. It slumped against the barricade and he had to jump back before the whole structure sagged inward under the weight. He opened his mouth to ask, "Why tree sap?" but his answer came in a flurry of glowing flames that burst against the ground nearby. "Watch out!"

One single flame caught Quan by the shoulder.

Oliver saw it.

And then, in the same instant, Quan's left arm went up.

Screaming, Quan stumbled back, smacking the fire desperately with his other hand. Oliver rushed over, barely even touching Quan's arm before the flame caught alight on his own sodden fingers, sweeping its way up to his elbow. The pain made him scream and fall to the ground and then Papa Bear was there, throwing Quan to his stomach and burying his and Oliver's flames in the dirt. Oliver was put out quickly. The relief made him sob. As he sat up, gasping and shaking, he twisted around and watched helplessly as the flames continued licking their way along Quan's arm and over his shoulder, burning up his clothes and skin. Oliver could barely stand to hear the screams. He tried to help again but Papa Bear shoved him.

"Stay back, foolish boy!"

Oliver did as he was told, watching Papa Bear put Quan out. Quan was almost unconscious from the agony of it. Oliver winced, his hand throbbing, covered in steaming sap and welting blisters. Others on fire around him were screaming. Ezekiel pulled him by the waist, suddenly. Bursts of flame and tree sap erupted where he had been standing. Someone was engulfed entirely. Oliver couldn't even recognise them through the flames. He and Ezekiel just watched, helpless, as they dropped to the ground, howling.

"Fall back!" Aaron bellowed.

"Back inside!" Daryl seconded.

"RETREAT!"

Ezekiel backed away from the flaming man. Walkers were tumbling over the barricades. Oliver helped Papa Bear carry Quan towards the gates. People were rushing around them, shouting and crying out, hurtling ahead, and then the walls went up in flames. Everyone skidded to a stop. They watched as the gate caught fire, too, and the garden, and then Barrington House.

Hilltop's catapults hurled down heaps of rock at the oncoming horde. Oliver shouted Carol's name as he saw her up on the guard deck with Yumiko and Enid. She spotted him, shielding his eyes from the fires' glow, then pulling back her bow string and sending an arrow whistling over his head — through an oncoming walker's forehead.

"There's a break over there!" she shouted down at those who were able to hear her, "get inside!"

Using their weapons, they wrenched the burning wall apart, creating a hole large enough for people to leap across the flames without getting too singed. Others hung back, fending off the horde and helping people through, until they were forced to retreat inside the walls. The walkers were slow, so the fires ate them easily from the legs up. Some collapsed, while others managed to stumble through as if unaffected. Oliver and the rest began taking them out, careful with the flames.

"We gotta jam them up!" Daryl ordered.

Soldiers with body shields ran forward, keeping the dead back, while the rest worked at bashing in skulls. And then there were other walkers, leaping through the flames with knives. Someone stabbed the old millwright through the heart. Oliver cracked open the Whisperer's skull who had done it. He saw, then, as the millwright took his last breath, but didn't have enough time to put him down properly before another walker approached. Oliver only realised it was alive because its mask was askew and it tugged it straight. The Whisperer looked at something to Oliver's left. He glanced and saw another Whisperer creeping forth. He gripped his mace. He wished he had his other hand, or his prosthetic.

The first Whisperer charged. Oliver raised his mace, then gasped as his opponent received an arrow through the throat and fell backwards, dead. The second Whisperer cowered in horror, begging for their life. Oliver swung his mace through their temple — this had been the tenth person he had ever killed. Briefly, Oliver thought the words, 'I stopped counting when I hit double digits. That's right around the time I stopped feeling bad about it...' Paula's experience seemed not to be unique, either, because he felt nothing; no sinking dread like he had with every other life he took, just disgust and fear as he swivelled round to look at who had helped him.

Enid stood there across from him, sap-soaked hair sticking to her face and glistening against the surrounding flames. She lowered her bow and turned to the house. Fire and smoke rose out through the upstairs windows.

"There are people still in there," she said, and broke into a run.

Oliver called out for her, but she didn't hear him. He ran after her, inside the house, through the flames and the smoke and all the way up to Enid's room. She lifted Adam off the floor. The baby was screaming, scared by the flames.

"I have you," Enid cooed. "We're going to be okay. Just hold still. I'll get you out of here."

"Why is he still up here!?" Oliver called out.

"Earl was supposed to get him to Ezekiel," Enid answered, shielding Adam's face from the smoke, "but he got stuck outside trying to free the horses."

"Een!" Oliver coughed, squinting. "Don't let the fire touch you! You're soaked in sap! You have to go, now!"

"Okay," she said breathlessly, hugging Adam close, "come on!"

"No, you go!" Oliver shouted. "I'm gonna try and make sure the house is clear!"

"Wait!" Enid said, holding Adam out. "Take him, I'll go make sure everyone's—"

"No, Enid! JUST GO!"

She tried to argue but Oliver was already gone, barely hearing her as she swore after him. Oliver saw her descending the stairs through the smoke and leaving the house. He called out for any listening ears as he hobbled along the landing. He heard cries of help from one room. The door was stuck and the handle burned him when he tried to twist it, so, with three hard shoulder-shoves, he barged in — the lockset burst from the frame, slamming the door against the wall, which was on fire. Inside, Granny and Juni were hiding behind the bed, trapped.

Shielding his face, Oliver shouted at them, "Go!" They rushed out of the room, gripping each other's hands and covering their mouths with their spare elbows.

"I can't see anything!" Granny cried.

"Hug the left wall!" Oliver yelled. "Follow it to the stairs. You'll see the door!"

Juni glanced back, signing for Oliver to accompany them.

Oliver waved them to go on without him.

Juni put his fingers to his chin, then, as, "Thank you," gestured them outward.

"Go!" Oliver cried. "Please!"

Granny pulled Juni along behind her and they both disappeared through the smoke. When he was sure the top floor was empty, Oliver leapt down the stairs four steps at a time and as he hit the bottom, his janky ankle gave in and he landed hard on his knees. Grunting in pain, he got up sheepishly and rubbed his shin. He heard a voice from somewhere — Ezekiel, calling out for help. Oliver burst into the closest room, his limp numbed by adrenaline. Ezekiel and the children were huddled behind the grand piano. Ezekiel's eyebrow was bleeding. Judith and RJ launched forward into Oliver's arms.

"What are you still doing in here?" Oliver asked, clipping his mace to his waist and lugging both Judith and RJ onto his hip. "We need to get the kids out!"

"I can't find Adam!" Ezekiel groaned.

"It's okay, Enid's got him. Come on! Go!"

"But the Whisperers, they're out there—"

"No choice! The house is coming down! We have to go!"

Ezekiel pulled himself up. He was limping, too. He and Oliver herded the children across the foyer and then, when they were almost at the door, Oliver felt RJ twist to peer up at the ceiling. Oliver looked, too, heard the loud splintering cracks above.

Ezekiel noticed as well. "What's that noise—"

"MOVE!"

With all his strength, Oliver threw Judith and RJ ahead. As they soared through the air and collapsed against Ezekiel and the other children, a whole section of the ceiling crashed down behind them. Oliver staggered backwards in his attempt to avoid being crushed. Embers singed his clothes. The floor shook. Oliver tripped and hit his head. It was hard to keep his eyes open. He could barely see through the smoke. Flames danced in his vision. He felt the searing heat of them, too close, twisting up his skin. He cried out. He could hear Judith coughing and screaming his name from the other side of the fallen ceiling, and Ezekiel shouting at her, "We gotta go!"

Oliver crawled away from the burning wooded beams, coughing up his lungs. His ankle panged when he tried to stand, so he stayed on his elbows and knees. He cried out when he touched a burning section of the floor, causing the skin on his forearms to melt and bubble. There was so much smoke. He couldn't breath and he couldn't see and then he could no longer carry his own weight. As he thudded to the wood floor, unabashed heat seared around him, smoke filled his chest, and his glowing hot world grew darker and darker until—

Until—

Until—

Arms grabbed under his chest, pulling him up.

"Gonna make me bust my stitches for you, huh?"

Someone pulled him against a wall. Oliver tried to lift his head, to open his eyes. Through the black smoke, he saw a pair of angel wings; one a dull, familiar, pale-grey, and the other painted a glowing bright blue that shone through the haze of the room.

Squinting, Oliver watched Daryl raise a chair above his head and throw it through a window. The smash rang across the crackling flames and Oliver felt cold air wash against him, briefly, then the searing heat again engulfed him. The flames, fuelled by the air outside, licked their hungry way closer. Oliver barely found enough strength to lean away from it. Daryl ran to him, put his arms around Oliver's chest, and with a loud, strained grunt, wrenched him up and over his shoulder. Oliver saw the back of Daryl's legs, carrying him across the room.

He was slung through the window. As Oliver fell, he didn't have the strength to catch his own fall. He slammed into the ground so hard he blacked out.

It must've been mere seconds later when Oliver opened his eyes. He twisted round, panicked and coughing violently. He was several feet away from Barrington house now. Daryl threw his morning star through a walker's skull, then jogged over, out of breath and sweating, to place a hand on Oliver's shoulder.

"Y'alright?"

Oliver couldn't answer. He was trying to breathe. He tried his inhaler. It made no difference. He was suffocating. His own body betraying him. He threw up. Then Enid came running then, out of nowhere, Adam in her arms and her bow on her back. She said Oliver's name and he vomited again, totally breathless. He felt his eyes bulging and his throat closing, sheer waves of panic coursing him.

"A minute," he managed to gasp out, clutching his shirt. "I need... a minute."

Whisperers or walkers or both were closing in.

Oliver couldn't get up. He collapsed onto his back.

He couldn't breathe.

"What's wrong with him?" Daryl hissed, turning briefly to bash in someone's face. "His medicine ain't workin'."

"Your lungs are too full of smoke," Oliver heard Enid say, "you're not taking in any air. You have to calm down."

He pushed her away, straining tiny breaths, scratching his chest.

Adam's screams churned his brain.

Enid put the baby down beside Oliver, then stood and gripped Daryl's arm. "I'm sorry. I know you're not fully healed yet, and I hate to ask an injured patient to overexert themself," she explained to him, "but please, don't let anything kill us..."

"Doctor's orders?" Daryl asked, swinging his morning star.

Enid looked over her shoulder at him. She nodded. "Doctor's orders."

Daryl stayed close, protecting them, destroying anything that came within ten feet. Enid pulled Oliver to sit up, holding him there. Still, it tired him out quickly. He was told to breathe out hard and long. He struggled to, his breath coming in strained wheezes. As he inhaled, desperately, Enid put his inhaler in his mouth and pressed the cartridge twice. The cold chemicals stung his tongue. She told him to calm down again, to look at her, and to, once more, breathe out long and hard. And he did. As he sucked in a frantic breath, she pressed the cartridge another two times. This attempt was steadier, the medicine working. He nodded to communicate this, so she handed him back his inhaler.

"That's it," Enid told him, picking up a screaming Adam again, "slow and controlled. You're okay. You're fine."

Daryl was still bashing away, starting to struggle. Oliver got up, slow and unsteady, ankle throbbing. He unclipped his mace, breathing hard, head rushing. Enid propped Adam higher on her hip, shushing him uselessly. She touched Oliver's arm. He nodded to her. She nodded back and unsheathed her knife with her free hand.

They fought on for hours.

The horde was endless.

Oliver lost sight of Enid and Daryl at some point in the chaos but he had no choice other than to keep fighting. He found Luke at some point close to dawn. They stood back to back, relieved to finally find a friendly body.

"I dunno, man," Luke yelled, "I can't find any of our people. I think we have to run!"

"No! We can't!"

"Nobody's left!" Luke panted, coated in ash. "Hilltop's gone..."

Oliver turned, looking at the ruins of Barrington House. The courtyard was filled with wasted bodies and investigating Whisperers. The only reason he and Luke weren't dead yet was because most of the walkers were busy feasting on bodies and the Whisperers were leaving the rest of them to deal with the remaining living.

Luke yanked him by the arm. "Come on, man! We have to go."

With a frustrated growl, Oliver agreed. As they ran across the disintegrated wall and off into the woods, a Whisperer followed them. Oliver and Luke kept going, hoping to lose her, but Oliver was too slow with his limp and after only a few minutes she managed to creep up on them. She let out a scream as she plunged her knife towards Oliver's back. On reflex, he dropped to the ground and she tripped over him. Luke pushed her down before she could stand. Oliver rolled over, mace swinging, and hit her arm. He heard the two narrow bones there snap, saw how her arm bent suddenly at odd angles. In the same moment, she dropped her blade, screaming and rolling away. Luke winced. The Whisperer stood up quickly, hissing through her teeth, glaring at them.

"Stay back!" Oliver shouted, still knelt there.

Luke raised his palms, approaching her carefully. "I'm sorry. Lady, we don't want to hurt—"

Oliver didn't see the rock in her other hand until she threw it at Luke's face. He keeled over instantly. The Whisperer scrambled forward to straddle him, retrieving the rock and raising it over her head.

"Over here, asshole!"

She turned her head and saw, for a second, as Oliver lurched onto his side, but didn't have the time to react beyond widening her eyes in horror as he sent his mace through the her middle of her face. As she hit the ground, she made no sound. She simply stared up at him, her face a cave. She raised her mangled arm, as if to beg for her life. She might have, if she still had a mouth to talk with. Instead she spluttered blood.

Oliver hit her again.

Her brain splashed across his face. A mix of tongue and eyeball slid down the jagged rows of his steel mace. The Whisperer twitched, and then, finally, she went still.

Out of breath, Oliver clipped his mace to his hip again and took his inhaler. He went to Luke, pulling him onto his back and checking he was alive. Oliver's fingers were numb from his burns, so he put his ear to Luke's mouth instead. To his relief, he heard Luke breathe. He pushed both his arms around Luke's chest and pulled him to sit up. Blood oozed down Luke's face from somewhere behind his hairline. Oliver grunted his name twice before Luke roused and mumbled something back. He even got up and followed Oliver through the trees a little way, but soon he began to struggle to keep up until finally he collapsed unconscious in the undergrowth, two red lines running down each side of his face.

"Luke!" Oliver gasped, limping back over to him. "Man, wake up. Come on, get the fuck up!"

Luke wouldn't wake up. He didn't even flinch when, after some hesitation, Oliver smacked him across the face. Oliver looked around the woods, through the foggy undergrowth, and swore he caught a glimpse of Scab, skittering through the trees. More shadows shifted against the dim sunrise, sending Oliver's heart to his mouth. He glared up through the foggy treetops, and could still see the black columns of smoke rising through the pale yellow sky, to the misty clouds above.

A rusty sheet of metal lay propped against a tree nearby. Oliver grabbed it. It had a hole near the top; something to grip to. He lugged Luke onto it, and pulled, moving slowly, deeper through the woods, towards the rendezvous point.

By noon, Oliver was half way there. He couldn't stop coughing, and his ankle was only becoming more painful and inflamed, but to his luck, most of the walkers were still being attracted away towards the burning house on the hilltop so he was able to take out the few wandering stragglers without too much difficulty. He hadn't come across any more Whisperers, to his relief, but kept a paranoid eye open anyway. Luke was heavy, even with the aid of the metal sheet. Oliver's blisters had long since burst and burst again, and the hole in the sheet was starting to cut into his skin. The pain was terrible. The hair along both his arms was gone totally and some of it on his face and head felt singed and crusty to the touch.

Occasionally, Luke would raise his hand and mumble something incoherent and Oliver would tell him to stay still and keep quiet. He came to a shack, one of the landmarks that meant he was going in the right direction. He stopped and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Just for a minute. His heart was pumping. His hand was raw, and the rest of his skin stung. It hurt to move at all so he bent forward against his knees and heaved a few coughs towards the ground.

He took his inhaler.

Incoming footsteps startled him. Oliver stood straight, twisting round. A Whisperer ran by, stopping suddenly when it caught sight of Oliver and Luke. Oliver squinted. He knew that leather jacket. He knew that barbed baseball bat.

Negan sighed as Oliver unclipped his mace.

"Alright..." Negan said steadily, backing up as quickly as Oliver approached, "hold— hold on one second..."

Oliver marched forward, raising his weapon.

"Don't go and do something stupid, kid!" Negan growled, Lucille twitching in his fist.

"Shut up!" Oliver shouted.

"I can explain..."

"Stop talking."

"I am not—"

"Enough of this!"

Walkers were coming from the direction Negan had come from, as if he'd been leading them — herding them. Oliver grimaced. He took a protective step backwards in Luke's direction. He expected Negan to try to run away, or to attack, but he turned to an oncoming walker and swung Lucille through its head. As Negan fought them, a few walkers went around him and headed for Oliver instead. Oliver split one's face open, but struggled with the last. Negan shoved it to the ground, then bludgeoned it to death with Lucille.

Oliver watched it die, relieved, then remembered himself. He limped towards Negan and raised his mace above his head. Negan staggered to his knees, cowering and shouting, "Please, please..."

Oliver didn't know why he didn't bring his mace down on Negan's head. He didn't know why he didn't just end it. Negan had never had any trouble in reversed circumstances. He ended Glenn, and he ended Abraham, and countless others before and after them. Maybe it was the desperate look in Negan's eyes. Maybe it was that he had thrown Lucille to Oliver's feet in surrender. Maybe it was because Negan was right: Had Oliver really grown to see him as a friend?

"Just go!" he shouted down at him, trembling with anger and grief. "And don't come back!"

"Oliver," Negan said, "please, listen to me. It's not all it looks like."

"I'll kill you!"

"You have to trust me."

Oliver grimaced, tears welling. He remembered his and Carol's latest conversation. His chest was vibrating with fear, threatening to shatter his ribcage. Negan rose to his feet, slowly, and Oliver let him. When Negan reached for Lucille, however, Oliver stomped on her with his boot.

"No. You don't get that."

"Okay... okay... alright," Negan said breathlessly, "keep her, but give her back — after, alright?"

Oliver wrinkled his nose, confused, and then Negan turned and ran away. Oliver stared, wanting to chase after him, but his knees were weak and he had to clutch his knee as not to collapse. He felt sick. Luke groaned. Oliver went to him. He set Lucille beside him on the metal sheet, grabbed it, and pulled. He had to get to the rendezvous point.

Smoke, fire, it's all going up

Don't you know I ain't afraid to shed a little blood?
Smoke, fire, flares are going up

Oh, won't wave my white flag, no
This time I won't let go
I'd rather die
Than give up the fight
Won't wave my white flag, no
Oh, I won't go down slow
I'd rather die

White flag never going up, no...

Notes

Song was "White Flag" by Bishop Briggs.

Scenes involving the burning house was heavily inspired by comic issue 161.

Also anyone who's read the Chaos Walking series will understand the ROAR reference :) I'm almost done with the second book.

THE NEXT CHAPTER IS IN ENID'S POV AND I'M AS EXCITED FOR IT AS I WAS FOR THAT CHAPTER A MILLION YEARS AGO IN CAROL'S POV.

As always,
Happy reading.