"Delta."

Carl turned at the sound of his name being called, watching as Beta approached the spot where Carl stood at the edge of the camp, a dead, half skinned rabbit hanging from the branches in front of him. He had left Hershel with Lydia, not trusting anyone else in the pack to be anywhere near the kid and try not to hurt him. Carl was pretty sure that Lydia was not very happy with being left to babysit a six-year-old, but she seemed to understand his worry and did it without complaint.

"Beta." He greeted faintly, turning back to the rabbit he was skinning and getting back to work, tearing bits of hide and fur from the small body. It would take a while to get the whole thing skinned and cooked enough to eat, and he wanted to get back to Hershel as soon as possible. "Do you need anything?"

He tensed somewhat as Beta moved behind him, circling around until he was standing in Carl's blind side. He tilted his head slightly, trying to keep Beta within his sights. He didn't really believe that Beta would try to harm him, but he never liked it when people were standing on his blind side - not even Lydia, who he trusted with his life. It was just so unsettling when people were in his blind spot, knowing they were right there where he should see them, but he wasn't able to. He hated it.

"Where is your skin?" Beta questioned in a gruff voice, resting a hand on Carl's shoulder. He flinched away from the touch but bit back the urge to shove the hand off his shoulder. Get it together, Grimes. Carl was silent for a couple of seconds before he let out a small sigh, letting his arms drop down to his sides, deciding to abandon the rabbit for a few minutes in favor of talking to Beta.

"It's in my pocket," he explained softly, pulling it out and showing it to Beta. "I haven't laced it up yet."

"You should, and soon," Beta advised, staring down at Carl, "it's not wise to go without it."

"I'll do it once I'm done with this," he motioned toward the rabbit hanging from the branch he had tied it to before tucking the walker skin back into his pocket. "Now, is there anything you need, or did you just come to chat?"

"You are unsettled," Beta said, ignoring his question, "why is that, Delta?"

Carl frowned, tilting his head up to get a good look at Beta. "I'm not - unsettled, I mean."

"You are," Beta insisted, "is it about the prisoners?"

Carl hesitated, unsure if he should say anything. Beta always had a pretty good bullshit detector, and he's known Carl for quite a while at this point, so trying to lie to him would be pretty useless. "That's part of it." He admitted.

"Did you know them?" Carl tilted his head, brows furrowing as he processed the question. After a few moments, he shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back.

"No, not really. Lydia knows the older boy better than I do. He was in the cell next to her, apparently." Carl sent a brief, silent apology to Lydia for saying this to Beta. But after seeing Alpha interrogating Lydia on the walk to camp after Henry and Hershel appeared, he had a feeling that Alpha already wrangled these things out of her.

"And the younger one?"

Carl shrugged, having expected this question the moment Beta asked about the two boys. "I saw him once or twice. He brought me food and water the first night." That wasn't exactly a lie, either. Hershel did bring Carl some food and water, even if he wasn't supposed to. But if Beta learned that he had the chance to get away and didn't take it... it wouldn't be pretty. "Do you know what Alpha is planning for them?"

Beta nodded. "She wants the older one dead. Nothing is changing her mind about that." Oh... Carl couldn't help the flare of sadness that appeared at that despite expecting this answer. Henry may not really be Carl's friend, but he already knew that seeing him die would not be a pleasant experience. He could only imagine how Lydia would feel. Beside him, Beta continued on. "The younger one, on the other hand, she is still deciding on."

"I see." Relief washed over him like a tidal wave at Beta's words. Hershel, for the time being, was safe. While Carl knew that Alpha might still decide to kill Hershel, the fact that there was now a chance of the kid living was enough for Carl. Since when had I become so attached to him?

"You know," Carl started, putting the topic of the fate of the two prisoners aside for the next few minutes. "I haven't seen Kappa around since I got back. What happened to him after Lydia and I got captured."

"He came back to tell us about what happened." Beta answered. "Alpha... wasn't impressed with him."

Carl didn't have to ask what Beta meant by that. He already knew. "He's dead, then?" Beta remained silent, which answered Carl's question. He let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Hm, shame. I actually kind of liked the guy."

Beta snorted at this, disbelieving. "Did you?"

"He followed orders," Carl found himself explaining to Beta, not really knowing why, "he respected authority. Gamma didn't." Oddly enough, his words were the full truth. Kappa followed orders without complaint, something that made things so much easier when ordering people around.

Beta let out a low chuckle at his words. Quieting down seconds later before speaking again. "Speaking of Gamma," Beta began, "you're third in command now."

Carl hummed, turning and raising his knife, returning to skinning the rabbit hanging from the branches as he spoke to Beta. "I figured that might have been the case. Alpha doesn't expect me to start going by 'Gamma' now, though. does she?" He ripped off a piece of hide from the dead animal, studying it for a quick moment before tossing it to the ground. It was way too small to be of any use.

"It's your choice," Beta confirmed, removing his hand from Carl's shoulder. "Go by Gamma or don't. You'll be third in command either way."

Carl nodded absentmindedly, a grin on his face. "I think I'll stick to being called Delta."

The thing was, Carl knew perfectly well what taking Gamma's place and becoming third in command would entail - well, other than a title change. As Delta, things were simpler - he didn't have to worry about people challenging him nearly as much as Alpha, Beta, or Gamma did - or had. But now, Carl would have to watch his back a bit more than before. He suspected that some people in the pack wouldn't be pleased by him not only retaining his position after being captured, but being promoted as well. Someone would try and challenge him for his spot eventually, be it today or tomorrow or three years into the future. No matter how long it would take, it would happen.

Hearing a deep chuckle, Carl turned, arching a brow at Beta. The larger man just smirked in response, "I expected nothing less."

Carl rolled his eye, shaking his head in exasperation and returning to the rabbit. He must have moved his head too quickly, however, for the dull ache - one that he had been trying to ignore - that had been there for the past few hours returned again with a violent passion. He scowled, reaching up a hand to rub at his forehead, taking in a deep breath as the ache slowly intensified.

A hand wrapped around his wrist and Carl glanced up just as Beta pulled his hand away from his head. "When was the last time you've eaten, Delta?"

Carl blinked slowly, surprised at the sudden question. "I had some water earlier."

"I wasn't asking about water," Beta said to him, his irritation clear within his gruff voice.

Carl shrugged, not really knowing why he was being asked this. Beta had never shown an ounce of concern if Carl ate or not, so why was the man asking now? "Can't really remember. Two - three days?" He shrugged again. He'd gone longer without food, so he could handle a few days. Hunger was something he was used to at this point - hell, being full was a rarity nowadays. "I was planning to have some of this rabbit once I finished with it."

"And that will not be for another few hours," Beta responded, digging into one of his pockets on his jacket. Carl watched curiously as the man dug around for a bit before pulling out his arm a few seconds later and revealing an apple. Carl felt his eye widen with surprise as Beta offered the fruit to him. "Here, found a tree full of them earlier."

What the fuck..?

"Thank you..." still slightly perplexed by this strange side of Beta, Carl reached out before hesitating, glancing nervously up at Beta, a part of him still half expecting the man to pull it away. When he didn't, Carl carefully took the apple from his grasp, rolling it between his hands. He lifted it up to his eye, studying it for any signs of worms or other bugs, and when he didn't find any, Carl took a bite. The fruit was sweet and crunchy, if not a little bit sour, but to Carl, it tasted much better than anything else he's had in quite a while.

Carl took another bite, and then another. He paid no attention to the rabbit blood coating his fingers, too preoccupied with the fruit sitting in his hands to really care about accidentally getting any of the coppery liquid into his mouth. He could already feel his pounding headache be reduced to a meek throb and the cramping in his stomach almost entirely disappearing, something that relieved him greatly.

"Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" He asked after swallowing down some of the fruit, peering up at Beta.

"Yes, actually." Carl perked up at this, tilting his head and listening carefully to Beta's words as the larger man continued speaking. "A few members of the pack aren't at all pleased that you are keeping your title after being captured." Carl raised a brow, not at all surprised at knowing that his earlier suspicions had been proven correct. Honestly, he would have been more surprised if they hadn't been. "I suspect someone may try and challenge you sometime soon."

Carl took a second to process this information, taking yet another bite out of his apple. Seconds later, he started to nod. "Hm, good to know. Anyone specific I should watch out for?"

"Not that I am aware of," Beta said, resting his hands on his hips, "-but I will be sure to tell you if that ends up changing anytime soon." Beta spared a quick glance over at the camp, staring at the slowly darkening sun and then looking back over at Carl, his hands dropping back down to his sides. "However, I have a feeling that even if I do tell you or not, you'll be able to deal with any challenger without much trouble."

Carl snorted, a smirk of his own crossing his face, "never took you as the complimenting type, Beta. I'm flattered you think so highly of me."

"Shut it, brat." Carl let out a startled laugh as Beta raised a hand and cuffed him lightly around his head. When Carl looked back up at the man, however, he could see the faintest of smiles appearing on Beta's face. Something that took him momentarily by surprise. Beta has never, in the time that Carl's known him, been one to smile, only really doing it on occasion.

What the hell was up with Beta today?

Carl straightened up, reaching out his free hand so he could untie the dead rabbit from the branch he hung it from. "I'll keep an eye out then," he said, holding the rabbit in front of his face, studying it from every angle. He then glanced up at Beta, giving him a grateful nod. "Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Beta."

"It would be rude of me not to," Beta responded, and Carl couldn't help but snort at the irony of that statement.

"Since when have you ever cared about being rude?" Carl inquired, the corners of his mouth twitching up into an amused smile.

"I don't," Beta shot back, "And, by the way, I believe you are still missing something."

Carl lifted an eyebrow, "and what exactly would that be?"

Instead of gifting him with an answer, Beta motioned for Carl to follow him, walking off without checking to see if Carl obeyed or not. Carl rushed off after him, trying desperately to keep up with the man's much broader strides. Beta led him back into the middle of the camp, ignoring the curious stares of the pack as he approached one of the many makeshift shelters in the area - built out of tall branches and fallen sticks - and ducked inside. Carl, after a split second, followed in suit.

"Beta?" The man, once again, didn't respond. Instead, he leaned down, picking something up from off the ground, dusting it off and turning back around. Carl's eye widened, surprise ebbing through him when he recognized what it was.

"Is... is this my bag?" Carl asked slowly. He didn't know why he asked. He's had the damn thing for years at this point - he would recognize it anywhere. The old, brown satchel was worn and torn, covered in dirt, blood, and all sorts of gross shit despite Carl's many attempts to clean it up. He held his apple up, holding it in his mouth so he could reach out to take the bag from Beta.

"I brought it with us when we moved camps," Beta explained, watching as Carl stared down at the bag in his hands. "I thought you might have wanted it back."

Carl put the dead rabbit down on a bed of leaves, opening up the bag so he could look through it. A couple of throwing knives, two hunting knives, a half-empty packet of cigarettes (he didn't really smoke, but he did do it on occasion), a lighter, and most important of all, his father's hat.

Carl swallowed down the lump in his throat at seeing the familiar hat, his fingers grazing over the slightly crumpled fabric. Everything looked untouched, so he doubted that Beta had gone through it while he was gone, to which he was thankful.

"Jesus... I don't..." he shook his head, closing up the bag as he looked up at Beta, "Thank you, Beta. I - I appreciate it. I thought I lost this old thing."

"Of course," Beta said, dipped his head, "And Delta?"

"Yes?" Beta took a step forward, grabbing Carl by the shoulder and forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Welcome home."

By the time Carl had left Beta's shelter, his bag hanging over his shoulder and his rabbit in his other hand - the sun had almost entirely dropped out of the sky. The world was turning darker and darker by the second, and he had no doubt that night would soon be upon them. As Carl walked through the camp, his new mask now donned on his head, he found himself rubbing his arms, trying to fight off the bitter cold that had begun to engulf the world.

Absentmindedly, he tugged at the old leather jacket Beta had given him to replace his other sweater - which had been dirty as hell and had all sorts of holes in it - glancing around the camo anxiously as he walked, leaves crunching underfoot. There was a chill in the air now that night was coming closer, and even then, it wasn't only the nights. The days had begun getting colder as well, more so as they wore on. Carl had no doubt that winter would be even worse, something that he was already beginning to dread. Winters were never simple, and Carl could hardly even count the number of times the pack had gone hungry during that time, much less how many died each year due to starvation or cold.

It was too many to count - too many deaths, too many close encounters. The winter never got any easier.

This next one wasn't going to be any different.

Carl stopped by a few members of the pack who were working on skinning and cooking their next meal. He dropped the rabbit in front of one of them, giving a quiet command to cook it before walking off. Heading in the direction he had last seen Hershel and Lydia, hoping they were still there.

Hershel was, once again, fast asleep when Carl found the two of them after a minute or two of searching. How Hershel managed to sleep after literally having a nap a few hours earlier, he had no clue. The only different thing about this time was that he had fallen asleep curled up in Lydia's lap, who was currently sitting cross-legged in the dirt with an unimpressed look on her face. When she caught sight of Carl, she crossed her arms, waiting for him to get closer so she could speak.

"Oh, come on, he isn't that bad." Carl shot back with a grin on his face. Much like him, Lydia had no idea how to interact with kids or just people in general.

"You didn't spend an hour trying to keep him from getting himself killed." Lydia retorted, rolling her eyes.

Carl's eye widened a fraction at her words, his worry immediately overpowering any other emotion at the moment. "Did anything happen?" He asked her, his mind racing with all sorts of horrible thoughts.

Lydia shook her head, and Carl let out a whoosh of air, shoulders slumping in relief. "No," she said, staring down at the sleeping boy still fast asleep in her lap, "but he kept trying to talk to people. I don't think he even realizes that he's a prisoner quite yet."

"Good, let him continue thinking that." Carl sat on the ground next to her, shifting slightly before folding his legs underneath himself - putting his bag in his lap. He then reached behind his head, slowly pulling the threads of his mask loose and slipping it off his head. Lydia always preferred talking to him without the mask on, though he never really understood why. With the state that his face was in - scars and all - one would assume it would be the opposite. But with Lydia, that was never the case.

Lydia scooted closer to him, being surprisingly careful as to not jostle the still sleeping Hershel in her lap. She then reached up, resting her hand on his right cheek and pulling his face closer so they would make eye contact. She stared up at him for a few seconds, studying him, and then tilted her head. "You have that look on your face."

Carl's face contorted into an expression of confusion. "What look?'

"Like you know something I don't." Lydia declared, and Carl stilled, pulling away from her touch and focusing his attention on the ground beneath him, absently trailing his fingers through the dirt and leaves and huffing slightly. Lydia gave him a worried look. "Delta, what's wrong?"

He tried to keep his attention fixed solely on the ground, but his mind against his will ended up wandering over to Henry, who remained tied up somewhere else in camp, set to die sometime soon. Carl hadn't spoken a word about the boy's fate since Beta told him about it - he had expected it, so he saw no reason to say anything. He hadn't really thought about it either, not until he was back with Lydia. And now...

Briefly, he considered not telling her about her friend's eventual fate, but the more logical side of him overcame that urge pretty quickly. Lydia deserved to know her friend's future, or rather, his end. "I talked with Beta earlier," he began slowly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stiffen up. "Your mother... she's going to kill Henry."

"I..." Lydia swallowed, taking in a shaky breath. She started blinking rapidly, and even in the darkness, Carl could easily spy the tears shimmering in the corner of her eyes. "I had a feeling that was gonna happen," she said in a hoarse whisper, shaking her head slowly, "There was no way she would let him leave the camp alive."

Carl reached out, gently taking Lydia's hands within his own. He gave them a small squeeze, a sad look crossing over his face, "I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do. But Beta said she already decided."

"It's not your fault," Lydia assured him, her voice soft, "I just... he's my friend and I..." she squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a quiet sigh. "I should have known better..."

Carl's heart broke for her, unfortunately understanding just how she felt at this very moment. He had lost so many friends over the years, and he had never stopped feeling guilty about every single one, even now. He didn't want that to happen with Lydia, to have her feel that exact same guilt and grief that he had, but there was nothing he could do. The only way to get Henry out of this camo alive was to convince Alpha not to kill him, and Carl would need an insanely good argument for that if he didn't want Alpha to think he was going soft. It was either that or a goddamn miracle. But miracles didn't happen in this world, not anymore.

Carl dropped her hand after a moment, letting out a soft sigh and curling an arm around her waist and tugging her close. She rested her head against his shoulder and opened up her eyes, staring up at him wordlessly. The two of them remained silent for a long time: the only sounds being the crickets somewhere in the distance, the quiet chatter of the pack, the rustling of leaves, the groans of the dead, and the occasional animal call that he was unable to place. In the corner of his eye, he began to realize that Lydia was shivering.

She caught his look and gave him a small smile. "It's cold..." she explained in a very soft voice. Carl nodded, a little confused at the sudden change in subject, but otherwise didn't say anything to her about it - he could understand why Lydia wanted to focus her mind on other things. He'd done it a couple times before, so he really wasn't one to judge. She had just learned that her newest friend, in literal years, was about to die at the hands of her own mother. Carl would give her a pass if she wanted it.

"Want my jacket?" He offered instead, watching in faint surprise as her face began to redden somewhat in the darkness.

Lydia shook her head, a yawn escaping her lips. "No..." she said quietly, I don't want you to freeze."

"It's fine," Carl assured her, "I won't freeze; I've had worse." Much worse. He'd been in pretty cold climates several times during the past few years. A few times during the winter after the Greene Family Farm fell, a couple of times during the winter after the prison fell, and a hell lot more during his time with the Whisperers. The cold was just as familiar to him as hunger was.

"And so have I." Upon seeing his look, she shook her head and then said, "It's fine, Delta. I don't even know why I brought it up. It's not even winter yet."

Carl hummed doubtfully at this, though a small smile spread across his face as she moved closer, wiggling around for a bit before resting her head back on his arm. They remained silent, and briefly, he wondered what Lydia was thinking. If she really was as calm as she currently appeared. He had no doubt that her head was spinning with all sorts of different thoughts, but whether they were good ones or bad ones was what he really wanted to know.

A particular cold gust of wind swept by and Carl scowled, "I hate winter."

"I know, Delta," Lydia hummed sleepily.

"You're warm," Carl stated.

Lydia yawned again. "And you're cute."

"You know it," Carl teased, planting a loud kiss onto her cheek much to Lydia's chagrin. She smacked him playfully on the shoulder, sending him a dirty look at the expression of innocence he had plastered on his face. She looked like she was about to say something, but a voice cut her off.

"Are you guys gonna kiss?" Carl and Lydia whipped their heads around at the voice, realizing that it had come from Hershel, who stared up at them from his spot on Lydia's lap. The kid gave them a curious look, "My mom and dad do that when they're about to kiss."

"I... uh, Hershel! What are you..." Carl stammered, taken by surprise. Jesus, how had he not noticed Hershel waking up? He cleared his throat, "No, we weren't going to kiss. Lydia is my friend. Kissing her would be weird."

Hershel nodded, sitting up slightly. "Oh, okay, good," he stated, rubbing his eyes, "Kissing is gross."

Carl raised a brow. "Have you ever kissed someone, Hershel?"

"No..."

"Then shush." The kid obeyed, focusing his attention on fixing his hat. A part of Carl wondered if it was Glenn's hat that Hershel always wore. It would be something the two of them had in common - wearing their dad's hats. Well, Carl didn't really wear his anymore, so, technically, it was something they used to have in common.

Carl glanced over at Lydia to take in her reaction to Hershel's sudden question. She had her head ducked down and, to Carl's surprise, had a little smile on her face. And even through the darkness, he could spot the smallest hint of red forming on her cheeks. Confused, he asked, "What's got you looking so happy?"

Lydia jumped, obviously startled. "Nothing!"

Carl snorted, a smirk spreading across his face. "Sure doesn't look like nothing."

She shot him a glare. "Delta."

"Lydia." He returned, his mouth curving up into a smile. Lydia just glared at him. "What?"

She waved a finger in his face. "I will smack you."

"No, you won't."

"Why not?"

"Cause I'm cute." She gave him a dirty look, and Carl raised his hands in mock surrender. "Your words, not mine!"

"Well, I take it back." Carl let out a dramatic gasp, letting go of Lydia to fake collapsing in the dirt.

"Lydia, I'm hurt!"

"How horrible." She deadpanned, though he could see the corners of her mouth twitching up into a smile.

Carl sat up again, wrapping his arm once more around Lydia and staring down at Hershel, who remained sitting in her lap. Carl was honestly a bit surprised she hadn't insisted on him sitting in Carl's lap or something. Maybe she liked him more than she had first let on. Oh well. "Hershel, did you hear what she just said to me?"

Hershel looked up, blinking in bewilderment. "Huh?"

Lydia rolled her eyes, poking Carl in the side. "Oh, shut it, you big baby."

Hershel stared up at the two of them in thinly veiled confusion. "You two are weird." He declared after a moment.

"Are we?" Carl asked him, amused.

Hershel nodded rapidly. "Yeah."

"Thanks, kiddo."

"Your welcome!"

And with that, the three of them had descended back into the silence. Carl absently started playing with Lydia's har, keeping an eye on Hershel to make sure the kid wasn't about to run off somewhere. After at least ten or so minutes, he heard Lydia's breathing begin to even out and, after doing a quick check, concluded that she had fallen asleep. Good, she needed it, especially after everything that's been happening lately.

Carl already knew he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon - he's always had a bit of trouble sleeping - so he didn't bother trying. Instead, he pulled Hershel off of Lydia's lap, careful not to wake her. Hershel protested a little bit but otherwise didn't do or say anything else as he settled down on Carl's other side, curling up into a tiny ball in an attempt to keep warm. Hershel was shaking like a leaf, and Carl realized that the kid probably had never slept outside Hilltop's walls before, so this was no doubt a new experience for him. And an uncomfortable one.

"Here," Carl said softly, pulling off his jacket, careful not to wake Lydia - who was currently using his arm as a pillow - and draping it over Hershel's small frame. "That better?"

Hershel nodded, snuggling into the jacket. The leather jacket practically drowned the kid, making it so that the only thing Carl could see was his head, which was an amusing sight. "Thank you..." Hershel said sleepily. Carl smiled down at him, an unexpected rush of familial warmth flowing through him.

Was this what it felt like to be an older brother? If it was, Carl now wished even more that he could have done something like this with Judith. But the world had taken that opportunity from him a long time ago when Judith had - more likely than not - died back at the prison. Even then, Carl could have known Hershel so much earlier if things had gone just a little differently - he could have been there for his birth, could have helped take care of him when Maggie or Glenn weren't able to, and...

Carl shivered as another cold gust of wind passed by, causing goosebumps to form on his newly revealed and uninjured skin. He pulled at his dark shirt, wishing he had one with longer sleeves. Carl glanced down as Hershel cuddled into his side, strands of the kid's dark hair falling in front of his face. Hershel's eyes were closed, but Carl could tell that he hadn't yet fallen asleep, though he was definitely close.

Carl looked up at the sound of footsteps, eye widening in surprise when he spotted Alpha stalking through the camp - towards them. Carl inhaled sharply and turned, quickly shaking Lydia awake, a feeling of dread bubbling in his stomach at the look on Alpha's face. Not anger or anything like that, but something else. Something different. But Carl couldn't tell what.

That only made it scarier.

"Wha-" Lydia let out a startled yelp as Alpha grabbed her by the arm, yanking her up and holding her arm in a bruising grip as she began to drag her off. Lydia stumbled but followed her mother, turning her head and looking back at Carl with fear and confusion glowing in her eyes.

Carl started climbing to his feet the moment Lydia had been hauled away, slipping on his mask and grabbing one of his knives from its sheath, just in case things got bad. Which they usually did.

"What's goin' on?" Hershel mumbled, blinking open his eyes at Carl's sudden movement. "Carl?"

A part of Carl wanted to tell Hershel to stay here and not to move, but he really doubted that the kid would listen to him, and even if he did, what are the chances of one of the pack members not trying to take advantage of Carl's absence to attack him? Close to none. So Carl just picked Hershel up, running off after Alpha and Lydia. He found them in a clearing at the edge of camp, Lydia rubbing at her arms and glancing around anxiously. Alpha stood right next to Lydia, seemingly waiting for something, not even sparing Carl a second glance as he appeared with Hershel in tow.

That something appeared seconds later.

Beta came charging into the clearing, dragging a very, very confused looking Henry along with him. Beta held him by the shirt, pushing him forward until he was standing right in front of Lydia and Alpha. Even then, Beta still did not let Henry go. Instead, he held him in a tight grip, and Henry looked around, clearly having just been woken from sleep.

Carl's stomach dropped as the realization rapidly overcame him. This was it. They were killing Henry. Carl shifted Hershel around in his arms until the little boy wasn't facing the group any longer. Hershel was only a child. He didn't deserve to see his friend die right in front of him.

A crowd was beginning to form in the trees around them, the pack sensing that something different was going on. They all watched as Alpha reached for something in her belt. There was the sound of a knife being unsheathed, and Alpha tossed the blade down to the ground. Right in front of Lydia.

Carl had a horrible feeling of foreboding wash over him suddenly.

"Pick it up," Alpha demanded, and Carl watched as the realization dawned in Lydia's eyes as well. She stared at her mother with wide eyes, gaze flitting between the knife on the ground, to Henry and Beta, to Carl and Hershel, before going back to her mother.

Carl took a step forward. "Alpha-"

"Silence, Delta," Alpha hissed, and Carl fell silent immediately, hating himself for doing it. She then looked over to Lydia, her eyes narrowing. "Pick...it...up." She drew out each word, her tone low and dangerous, and leaving no possible room for argument.

Lydia visibly trembled as she leaned down, her fingers slowly wrapping around the blade. She then straightened up, shoulders shaking as her hair fell in front of her face. She was clearly doing anything she could to stop herself from crying. Carl wished he could do something, anything, to help her. Or at least make it so that she didn't have to be the one to kill Henry. He had thought that Alpha would be the one to do it, or maybe Beta. He hadn't expected Alpha to make Lydia do it, though he honestly should have.

"Now... kill the boy," Alpha demanded, and in his arms, Hershel let out a quiet gasp, beginning to squirm around in Carl's grasp. He made sure to hold Hershel tighter, making it so the young boy wouldn't try and intervene. Hershel didn't cease with his attempts, but Carl refused to loosen his grip.

"What?" Lydia stared at her mother in shock, her voice barely a whisper. From where he was in Beta's grip, Henry began to struggle, finally realizing what was about to happen to him. Despite the teen's attempts, Beta didn't have much trouble with keeping Henry in place.

"You weren't gone long," Alpha said slowly, eyes not leaving Lydia, "maybe it was long enough."

Lydia looked over at Henry before returning her gaze back over to her mother. "Long enough for what?"

"To forget which side you're on."

Carl put Hershel down, giving the boy a quiet order to stay still before straightening up and taking a few steps forward, drawing everyone's attention onto him. "Alpha... if you need someone to kill the boy, let me do it. Lydia doesn't-"

But Alpha simply raised a hand, cutting him off. "I already know you'll do it, Delta. But Lydia..." she gave her daughter a once-over. "-she still needs to prove herself. So, Lydia. Kill. The. Boy."

Lydia looked down at the knife, shoulders slumping with defeat, a soft sob escaping her. Tears trickled down her face, falling onto the glistening blade of her mother's knife. Carl wanted nothing more than to run over and hug her, to take the knife and do it himself so she wouldn't have to, but he couldn't. Alpha already forbade it, and he couldn't disobey her.

"Please..." the plea that escaped from Henry fell on deaf ears. Alpha didn't even spare him a glance, all of her attention focused on Lydia and the knife clasped tightly in her hand.

"Don't be weak, like your father." Alpha hissed to her as Lydia struggled to stop the flow of tears, "You know what happened to him."

Lydia's face scrunched up into an expression of anger at the mention of her father. "Yeah, I know what happened to him, Mother." She practically spat it out, her rage causing her body to shake even more than before.

Alpha simply stared at Lydia for a few moments, completely expressionless. Then, she nodded to Henry. "Kill him," she ordered, "Or he'll kill you both. You decide.

She motioned toward Henry. "Go on."

Lydia took a slow step forward, raising the knife somewhat. She stared at Henry, taking another reluctant step toward him. Carl turned around, prepared to block Hershel's view from having to watch Henry die, when he heard something odd... something very familiar...

Groans...?

But wouldn't that mean-

"Guardians!" Someone nearby screamed, and in seconds, the whole camp was in total chaos.

Carl doesn't think he's ever been so happy to hear the low snarls and growls of walkers ever in his entire life. For the last decade, he associated the sound of walkers with death and grief and was something he always hated to hear. But now, the sound was like a goddamn miracle.

All around them, people were rapidly tugging on their masks or screaming as they were torn apart by the dead. Walkers were everywhere, and Carl pulled on his own walker skin. Alpha stalked forward, and Beta shoved Henry away, following their leader as she disappeared into the chaos.

Hershel let out a cry of fear from behind him, and Carl's head whipped around, striding forward and burying his knife into the skull of the walker crawling on the ground that had made a grab at Hershel's feet. He turned back around, gathering a terrified Hershel into his arms and taking a good look around the camp. Walkers were everywhere, devouring those who weren't wearing their masks. How the hell rotting, brainless corpses managed to come into camp without garnering anyone's attention, he had no clue, but he wasn't about to waste time trying to find out.

Because now, he had a more pressing problem. That being the fact that neither Henry, Lydia, or Hershel had masks on in an area full of walkers.

Making a sudden decision, Carl reached up a hand, pulling off his mask in one smooth motion. Almost instantly, a nearby walker lunged at him, but Carl kicked it back, crushing its rotted head under his boot. He then marched forward and shoved the mask into Lydia's arms, motioning for her to put it on before grabbing a startled Henry and pushing him into the direction of the trees. When Henry hesitated, Carl just dug his fingers into the teen's shoulders and started dragging him away, glancing back to make sure Lydia was following him.

"Keep going," He ordered Henry in a quiet tone of voice as the camp disappeared from view, "do you have a weapon?"

He honestly doubted Alpha would let Henry keep any weapons that he could potentially use against the Whisperers, but he had to make sure. He couldn't let Henry and Hershel be out here totally defenseless.

As Carl had expected, Henry shook his head at the question, stumbling somewhat as Carl started moving faster, "They took everything I had away from me. Weapons included." There was something both wistful and angry in his voice as he said this, but Carl didn't have the time nor energy to wonder why.

Carl dug his hand into the bag hanging around his shoulder, digging through its contents as quickly as he could. After a moment, his fingers closed around one of his knives, and he took it out, shoving it into Henry's hand. Henry took it without complaint, keeping it poised and ready to strike any walkers - or people - that came for them.

Hershel was whimpering in his arms, and Carl kept looking back every few moments to make sure no one was following them. His heart thundered in his chest, knowing just what would happen if Alpha caught him helping Henry and Hershel escape. But he continued on nonetheless, going further and further into the trees until the screams in the camp became fainter and fainter. If he could get Henry far enough away from the chaos, then the teen could take Hershel and run.

And maybe even Lydia.

The thought was more of a weak hope. He didn't know if Hilltop would be willing to take Lydia in again. Maybe his dad might let it happen if he learned she was Carl's friend, but if not... Well, as long as Lydia was away from Alpha, then she was already a hundred times safer. Hell, even if the community didn't accept her at first, he had a feeling that Henry wouldn't take no for an answer. That was one thing he could respect about Henry.

Carl had let go of Henry's shoulder at some point while running in favor of carrying Hershel but still remained close to the teen in case something popped out somewhere nearby. Lydia followed on his other side, wearing the walker mask Carl had given her with her mother's knife clenched tightly in her grip.

Once Carl decided that they had put enough distance between them and the chaos happening back at camp, he stopped, letting Hershel wiggle out from his arms onto the grass below. Carl took a look around. They were in a small clearing of some sort, and while Carl could see no more walkers, he could still hear the sound of screams coming from the direction of the camp.

"Is everyone okay?" Carl asked as Henry and Lydia pulled to a stop beside him, Lydia holding out the mask he had given her. Carl took it absently, watching as Hershel clambered up to his feet, wrapping his arms around Carl's leg and nodding weakly. Lydia gave him a nod of her own, as did Henry seconds later after he had caught his breath. "Okay, good. Let's keep it that way."

"What do we do now?" Henry asked, crossing his arms. The teenager looked horribly shaken, and seeing as he had almost been killed minutes before, that was understandable. "We're not going back, are we?"

"You three aren't," Carl said, and he watched the confusion spread across Lydia's face. She was probably going to hate him for this. "I can buy you guys some time. But not a lot. You need to get the hell out of here. I don't care where you go, just get far away from here."

"What?! No!" Lydia, as expected, immediately started shaking her head, shoving past a startled Henry to look Carl in the eye. "Delta, you can't!"

"Lydia, it's the safest option," Carl tried, but Lydia clearly wasn't about to relent. Not anytime soon.

"Not for you!" Lydia argued, crossing her arms over her chest. "You could die!"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Carl asked her, "Because I'm all ears."

"Yes," Lydia declared, tilting her head to the side, her eyes glowing with determination, "and it includes you coming with us."

Carl shook his head, sighing sadly and heavily. "I can't, Lydia. It's too dangerous."

"Why?!" Lydia cried out, taking another step forward. "What makes it so much more dangerous? If anything, we'll be safer." Behind her, both Henry and Hershel were shifting uncomfortably.

There was a sudden rustling in the bushes somewhere behind him, drawing his attention away from the argument and quickly catching both Henry and Lydia's attention as well, the former taking a step back to push Hershel behind him. Carl whirled around, hand moving to his knife, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia and Henry do the same. But then the branches parted, and before Carl could do or say a thing, Hershel was running forward, arms outstretched.

"Daddy!" The little boy shrieked, and a slim figure darted out of the bushes, lifting Hershel into his arms and spinning him around.

"Hershel? Oh, thank god!" Glenn buried his nose into his son's hair, hugging Hershel as tight as he could. Carl watched on in confusion. What the hell was Glenn doing here?

The bushes rustled again, and a few more figures stepped out. Daryl, with his crossbow raised up, took a few steps forward, lowering it when he saw Carl. Briefly, Carl could have sworn the man looked relieved at seeing him, but then Daryl turned toward Hershel and Glenn, plastering a scowl back on his face, and that relief was gone. A woman stepped out a few seconds later, and was now aiming what appeared to be a slingshot at him.

A slingshot, really?

"As cute as all this is, we need ta go, righ' now!" Daryl made a grab at Henry, but the teenager jumped back out of the archer's reach.

"No, I'm not leaving without Lydia," Henry said stubbornly, crossing his arms and moving to stand in front of her. Carl felt a wave of respect for this boy wash over him, despite his apparent stupidity at times, like when he followed a group of obviously dangerous people without any backup, he had guts. And the two of them appeared to share the same interest in protecting Lydia. Not that she needed very much protecting.

"You should listen to him," Carl said, drawing the group's attention to him. "-get out of here while you still can. I can get you all some time so you can get away, but not if you keep loitering around."

"No, I'm not leaving without you." Lydia insisted, shaking her head once more.

"You have to," Carl said softly, "you'd be safer with them."

He made a move to leave, but she grabbed him by the hand, stopping him and looking up at him with pleading eyes, "if Alpha finds out you let us all go-"

"She won't," Carl interrupted, resting his hands on her shoulders before pulling the girl into a hug, "I can handle myself. I've done so for years, you know that, Lydia." The truth was, all he wanted to do was to throw away his mask and go with them, to reunite with his father for the first time in years, but he knew that, deep down, he couldn't do that. "I'll be fine."

"You promise?" Lydia whispered. He felt the girl sniffle quietly into his shoulder, and it was taking every ounce of willpower not to start crying himself.

"I promise." He said, pulling away from Lydia and giving her a sad smile. An idea suddenly flowered in his head, and Carl reached into his bag. He dug around for a bit when his fingers closed around a familiar fabric, and he grinned. He hesitated for a second before pulling out his hat for the first time in years and, while keeping it out of Daryl and Glenn's line of sight, pushed it into Lydia's arms.

She took it but gave him a confused look, and he smiled, "for luck." He explained, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Isn't it your dad's?" Lydia asked in a whisper. He wasn't surprised she remembered that. She had seen him wearing it around camp during the first few months he had been a part of the Whisperers - or, at least, before Alpha forced him to take it off - and had asked about it a couple of times before Carl told her.

"I haven't worn it in years, and you need it more than I do." He whispered back, dipping his head down and pressing his lips to her forehead. He then took a step back, gaze sweeping over the group before nodding to himself.

"You should go." Before it's too late. "It's not safe here." It never is. Daryl regarded him through narrowed eyes before looking away and gesturing toward the others to start moving. Glenn looked on the verge of protesting, but then with a glance down at his son, nodded and ducked back into the bushes, the woman, Henry, and Lydia following in suit.

Daryl remained where he was. "You sure this is what you want?" He asked Carl, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand, "You can come with us. You'll be safe with us."

Carl shook his head. "It's safest this way."

"Is it?"

Carl kept quiet, refusing to respond. He wanted nothing more than to listen to Daryl - to go with him and not have to be a part of the Whisperers ever again. But he had to be smart about this. And that meant staying on the down-low for a while. And that meant staying with Alpha for the time being.

He turned around, prepared to make the trek back to camp. He had just taken the first few steps forward when Daryl grabbed him by the arm. Carl looked up, giving Daryl a curious look.

"Stay safe, kid." Daryl looked like he wanted to say more, but he was obviously aware of the lack of time they had. "We just got you back, don't want'ta lose you again."

"No promises," He said softly, and with that, he pulled his arm out of Daryl's grip, turning away and walking into the trees. Every step seemed to get heavier and heavier as he drew closer and closer to camp. But he didn't dare look back - he couldn't.

He didn't think his heart could take it.