After Alpha's interrogation, Carl had returned back to camp, his mind spinning even more than it had been before - Alpha rarely ever showed any kind of affection to anyone other than Lydia, and even that was rare. A part of Carl used to wonder if she even knew what that meant, so after being subjected to that... whatever that had been back at the river, Carl found himself worrying a hundred times more than he originally had been: about Lydia, about Hershel, about Daryl, about Glenn, about his dad... Pretty much about everything. Earlier had only reminded him of how unpredictable Alpha could be, therefore how dangerous she was, and that left Carl feeling many things, mainly unsettled.
He hated feeling unsettled, hated feeling uneasy or nervous or worried or anxious or unsure - it made him feel like he wasn't in control of his own thoughts or actions. Almost like the slightest wrong move could release an avalanche of horrible consequences. And not only on Carl but on Lydia, his dad, Daryl, Glenn, Hershel... pretty much everyone he knew or cared about, and that was not a very good feeling at all.
But Carl knew that worrying about things that may or may not happen wouldn't make his life any better - it would only make things worse for him, really. So a few hours later, he found himself sitting by the base of a tree near the spot where he had killed David, wiping the slowly drying blood from the blades of his knives to keep his mind from wandering too far. While Carl knew that they were only going to get dirty again in a few short hours, he preferred keeping his weapons as clean as possible to prevent them from rusting and eventually breaking. Carl didn't need them falling apart while in the middle of a fight.
Carl had just about finished up with his last knife when a small commotion from somewhere nearby quickly grabbed his attention, drawing him away from the task at hand. Carl frowned, trying to focus on the knife he was cleaning, but in the end, he found that he couldn't. Carl sighed in defeat, looking up in annoyance right as one of his people approached the tree he sat at, her hands fidgeting as she came to a stop in front of him.
Carl raised a brow in question, wondering what could possibly be important enough for this. The one who approached him looked uneasy as she eyed the numerous blades on Carl's lap before clearing her throat as she began to speak. "Beta has returned, but he's all alone," the woman said quietly so only he could hear, and Carl stilled as he processed her words, his one blue eye narrowing dangerously from beneath his mask.
"The rest of his group isn't with him?" asked Carl, shoving down his surprise and fear. He sheathed his knives quickly before climbing up to his feet. He didn't dare let himself get his hopes up, but at the same time, had Daryl and Glenn really managed to keep Lydia safe? Were they okay? Were they alive? He had so many questions whirling around within his mind, but he knew that most of them wouldn't be answered anytime soon. Or maybe not at all.
The woman shook her head nervously. "No... they're not." Carl nodded, mulling over this new information, unsure on whether he should feel relieved or worried.
"Does Alpha know," he asked, and after a second, the woman shook her head again. Carl sighed, crossing his arms, "find her and tell her that Beta has returned, and if you want to keep your head attached to your body, I suggest you don't mention to her that he's alone unless she asks." The woman nodded rapidly, and Carl watched as she dashed off to go find Alpha, slightly amused at the panic in her movements. He knew perfectly well that it was kind of fucked up to be entertained at someone else's terror, but he couldn't help it - though that woman probably should get her act together before Alpha or Beta killed her for being so twitchy all the time. It always sucked to see the newbies being killed off because of something as insignificant as that.
Not that Carl would ever say anything about it to anyone but Lydia. He liked having his head attached to the rest of his body, thank you very much.
After a moment, Carl moved his gaze away from the panicked woman - instead turning in the direction where the commotion had first started. A group of around fifteen to twenty people was huddled around something, so Carl could only assume that was where Beta's located - Carl stayed in his spot, not moving an inch: just waiting. Carl knew that Beta probably wouldn't like being hounded by people like that, so moving was unnecessary, and he was proved right when, seconds later, Beta shouldered his way through the crowd, shoving multiple people to the ground in his annoyance.
They should have known better than to crowd him, Carl thought as he eyed the fallen pack members, most of whom had begun to slowly pull themselves back up to their feet, some of them wincing in pain at every small movement. The sound of nearby footsteps redirected Carl's attention back to Beta, who had noticed Carl watching in the distance and had started making his way toward him. Carl straightened up as the second in command approached him, taking note of how the man limped as well as the hand that was pressed to his chest, tainted with red. In fact, blood covered most of Beta's body, though Carl was unsure whether it was Beta's or someone else's. Either way, it was clear to Carl that Beta was wounded, though the man was obviously trying to hide it.
Not that Carl was surprised. Showing any kind of pain was a sign of weakness within the pack. If potential challengers saw Beta's weakened state, they might decide to use it as a chance to possibly climb up in the ranks. It's happened before, but so far, not one person had succeeded. It would take more than a few broken bones to actually weaken Beta. And after sparring with the man many times over the past few years, Carl knew this better than most.
"What the hell happened to you?" Delta asked as Beta finally pulled to a stop in front of him, tilting his head back to meet Beta's eyes and making sure to keep his voice low so none of the surrounding Whisperers could hear him. He was genuinely curious too. What could have possibly injured Beta this much? Did Daryl or Glenn do it? While Delta knew that they were both great fighters - and probably only got better during the past few years - he also knew that Beta was damn near indestructible. So to see the large man fighting to hide his pain actually kind of worried him.
Though whether it was worry for Beta or his family, he had no clue.
"Got pushed down an elevator shaft," Beta said in a hoarse whisper.
Delta blinked, not expecting that response.
Oh.
Well then.
That would definitely do it.
"That explains it," Delta mused, "you look like shit, by the way." Beta snorted, opening his mouth to respond when a voice interrupted them.
"You're back." Delta tensed up immediately, turning his head in the direction of Alpha's voice. He could see others in the pack doing the same, and Delta quickly spotted the woman striding toward them, her people practically diving out of the way, making a path for her. She had her mask off, and the look on her face was totally blank as she pulled to a stop in front of Beta.
Delta - knowing that he was not needed - took a few steps back, giving Beta and Alpha their space and making his way to where a cluster of Whisperers was standing a few feet away, all watching the exchange with curious eyes. Beta dipped his head to Alpha in a sign of respect, making a move to kneel before her, but Alpha lifted up a hand to stop him. She simply stared at her second in command for a few long moments.
Finally, she spoke.
"You came alone."
"I did," Beta said.
Alpha narrowed her eyes dangerously, and Carl could tell that she was unimpressed by what she was hearing. "Why?"
"These people... they are-" Beta paused, obviously trying to find the correct words to use that wouldn't piss off Alpha even more "...they are smarter than I first expected. They brought the girl to an old apartment complex - made a trap to separate us from the guardians and picked the ones I brought with me off one by one." Beta made a half-hearted gesture to his body, slowly lifting his hand from his chest. Carl couldn't see well from where he stood, but it was clear that it was some kind of stab wound. "The only reason I didn't go after them was because one of them pushed me down an elevator shaft in the building. It took me a while to climb out."
I wonder which one of them managed to do that, Carl found himself wondering after a moment or two. Seriously though, who actually would have had the idea of shoving someone down an elevator shaft? He couldn't really see Glenn doing something like that, or Lydia because of how terrified she was of Beta. Henry was too fucking thin to be able to do that. It definitely wasn't Hershel, though that was an amusing thought - maybe it had been the woman that had been with them? Or Daryl? That seemed like something that the archer would do.
Hm...
Yeah, it was probably Daryl.
"Where did they appear to be headed?" Alpha questioned, her voice snapping Carl out of his thoughts. "Were they going back to the community my daughter was kept at?" It didn't take a genius to understand why she was asking this. If Daryl was bringing Lydia to an entirely different community - well... then that could be both a problem and an advantage for the Whisperers.
Another community meant more people to fight against, but at the same time, Carl had seen many communities where at least half of the people there hadn't stepped foot outside the walls in literal years. Now that he thought about it, maybe that was why the prison failed the way it did. Simply because they didn't have enough people who actually knew how to fight. If they had, then perhaps his family would have had a better chance of killing the Governor before he was able to do much damage. But probably not. Communities always fell eventually. Even if they had kept the prison, it would have only been a matter of time before someone else came and tried to take it.
And who knows, maybe they would have succeeded.
"No, I don't believe they were," Beta answered after a brief pause, "I followed their trail for a little while before coming back here. They weren't going in the same direction as the first community." That could mean one of two things. Either Daryl could be headed to the community Henry lived at, or he could be bringing them to a different one entirely. Carl wasn't sure which option he preferred. Both had their pros and cons. If Alpha had an opinion on this, she didn't show it. She simply stared up at Beta, seemingly considering what he said, before nodding her head in thought.
She stepped back, glancing around at her people surrounding she and Beta. Then, she looked back at Beta, a smile slowly creeping across her face. "You have done well, Beta, you can rest," the man nodded, starting to limp away, and Alpha raised her voice a tad, now addressing the crowd gathered around her. "What these people did will not go unpunished. We will show them that they are not to cross us. That we are not fools. We are the Whisperers, and we will teach these people that we are to be feared. It's time for us to stake a claim."
Carl's eye narrowed as he mulled over her words. Stake a claim? What the hell did she mean by that? The Whisperers didn't 'claim' anything - they were animals, monsters. Monsters don't own or claim - they kill, ravage, and eat.
"Delta," Carl straightened up as Alpha addressed him, taking a step forward and dipping his head. The woman made a motion to two of the nearby Whisperers, "I want you to take the sisters and track down the group who has my daughter. Don't try and attack them, don't let them know you're there. Just listen and watch, and if you learn something of importance, report back to me." Carl nodded, a feeling of unease creeping up in his stomach. But he didn't let it show; he couldn't. Instead, watched as Alpha turned and strode away, probably to go and interrogate Beta some more. He sighed, unsheathing his knife as the crowd began to disperse, all of them going back to their respective jobs.
He gave the two sisters a small nod as they approached him but otherwise refused to say a single word as he turned and started making his way out of camp. He didn't bother to check if they followed. All he could think about was Alpha's words. It's time for us to stake a claim. That didn't make any sense. What was Alpha planning? He didn't know. But what he did know was that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. But right now, wondering about it wouldn't answer any of his questions. All he could do at the moment was obey Alpha's orders and pray that everything wasn't about to go to shit.
But knowing his luck, everything was probably going to come crashing down.
Goddammit, why couldn't things ever be easy?
The wind whistled through the treetops - cold and crips and unrelenting - lifting fallen sticks and leaves and small rocks from the ground and swirling them around. Lydia hugged her arms a little closer to her chest, strands of dark hair being blown into her face as she, Daryl, Glenn, Connie, Hershel, Dog, and Henry picked their way through the woods, careful to keep their footsteps as quiet and as light as possible. They didn't want to leave any tracks for the Whisperers to potentially find, Daryl had said. But even if they didn't make any sort of trail to follow, Lydia had a feeling that her mother would end up discovering this community - Alexandria, they called it - anyway. She's done it before, and Lydia knew that she could, and would, do it again.
Not for the first time, Lydia wished her mother was less persistent. Maybe then she would leave Lydia alone. But wishing didn't change a single thing; it never had, and it never would. All it did was create stupid fantasies that would end up driving a person insane thinking about. No amount of hoping, wishing, and praying would help anyone. Lydia had learned that lesson the hard way.
The breeze blew Lydia's hair back into her face, and she swore under her breath, once again reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. She would kill for a hair tie right about now, or anything at all to tie her hair up with - still, Lydia's handled worse. So she simply adjusted Delta's hat on her head before letting her arms drop back to her sides, taking in a deep breath of the cool air. It felt nice to breathe without the reek of death hanging around like a dark cloud. Lydia had never enjoyed the smell, unlike her mother. Delta had seemed to share the same sentiment, and Lydia knew others in the pack did as well.
Not that many would say anything about it around Beta or Alpha.
Lydia glanced up, stopping as Glenn let out a string of curses from ahead of her. The man was leaning heavily on Daryl, who was practically dragging him along at this point. Glenn wasn't in good condition; that much was clear to her - his face deathly pale and dripping with sweat, and he slowed down more and more with each passing second. Even Henry wasn't having as much trouble as Glenn was. At the thought of the blond, Lydia looked over at where Henry was now leaning on Connie a couple feet away. He caught her stare and gave her a strained smile. Lydia nervously returned it.
"Need'ta take a break?" Daryl asked his friend, pulling to a stop, but Glenn just gritted his teeth, weakly shaking his head.
"M'fine," he forced out, though his words were slurred. Hershel took a nervous step forward, staring at his father with wide, worried green eyes. Glenn apparently noticed that and gave his son what Lydia thought was meant to be a comforting smile or something, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Seriously, just... the sooner we reach Alexandria, the better. Don't want t'be out here when night falls." He had a good point, but Lydia had a feeling that Glenn wouldn't be able to keep going much longer.
Daryl was clearly thinking along the same lines.
"Don't be stupid," the hunter grunted, rolling his eyes, "if you're not gonna take a break, then I'll carry your ass all the way to Alexandria if I have to." Glenn made a face, and he looked as if he were about to protest, but then he glanced down at Hershel, and something odd crossed his face. It was gone in seconds, so Lydia couldn't tell what it was, but reluctantly, Glenn nodded.
"Fine, we can take a break," he grumbled, "but only for five minutes, then we get going again."
Daryl rolled his eyes at this, mumbling something that, to Lydia, sounds like: "Maggie's gonna kill me for this," but quickly moved to help Glenn sit down, leaning him against a nearby tree as gently as he could. But even though the man was being gentle, Glenn still flinched at every small movement and was obviously trying to fight back vast amounts of pain. Lydia shuffled her weight from foot to foot, watching as Henry plopped down next to Glenn, offering the man a small smile, which the older man weakly returned.
Lydia made a move to sit down as well, but a hand landing on her shoulder made her jump in fright. She whirled around, eyes wide and muscles tense, only relaxing when she saw Daryl standing there, having approached her while she was lost in her thoughts. He pulled his hand away quickly, and Lydia could have sworn that, for a moment, the hunter looked guilty, but the emotion was gone in a flash, leaving Lydia unsure.
"You okay?" Daryl asked after a moment, quiet enough so only she could hear, and Lydia narrowed her eyes at him as she processed his question, curious as to why he was even asking. Daryl had made it perfectly clear that he still didn't trust Lydia - not that she could blame him for that; Lydia wouldn't trust herself either if she were in his shoes - so the newfound worry he now seemed to show confused her more than she'd like to admit.
Still, Lydia shrugged, sneaking a look over at Henry and Glenn - who Connie was now sitting beside while Hershel played with Dog a few feet away - before returning her gaze back to Daryl, "shouldn't you be asking them that?"
Daryl snorted, "Glenn would insist that he's fine even if he had broken every bone in his body." Lydia's lips quirked up into the smallest of smiles at this.
"Delta is like that sometimes too," she told him, and Lydia was unable to stop the flicker of curiosity that grew within her when she saw the thinly veiled interest rising in Daryl's eyes. "Once he got badly injured after an attack on a smaller community - a house exploded near him, I think - and when he came back, he was covered in all sorts of burns. And yet, Delta still tried to tell me that he was okay. Still has scars from that, actually."
"Yeah, I saw 'em," Daryl said gruffly, "well, the one on his face. Also saw a glimpse of the one on his arm, must've hurt like a bitch." Lydia nodded but narrowed her eyes at the way the hunter's face seemed to flicker with something akin to guilt, confusion bubbling up within her. If she didn't know any better, she would say that Daryl felt guilty for what happened to Delta all those years ago, but that didn't make any sense. Daryl didn't know anything about Delta. Hell, he hadn't even met him until a couple days ago, so why would Daryl feel guilty about something like that? From the way that the hunter was acting, it's almost like-
Like-
Lydia's eyes widened suddenly.
Oh.
"You knew him," Lydia breathed, staring at Daryl with wide eyes, "You... you knew Delta, didn't you?" It all made so much sense now: why Daryl knew Delta's real name, why he and Glenn looked so surprised when seeing Lydia wearing Delta's hat, why Daryl looked so guilty when he learned of Delta's scars, why Delta had seemed so shocked when he and Lydia had been taken captive at the bridge... Everything that hadn't made a lick of sense to her before clicked together like legos. There had been so many signs that Lydia was only now picking up on, and she felt like such a fucking dumbass for only just realizing.
Daryl stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "Met him durin' the start," the hunter said quietly, "kid was only twelve at the time, was an annoying little shit too. But he was a good kid, loved that hat to bits as well. Wore it everywhere." Lydia tilted her head, furrowing her brow. She reached up a hand, rubbing a finger over the dusty fabric. Then, she gave Daryl a questioning glance, but Daryl was now refusing to look at her, instead staring down at his feet.
"What happened? How... how did he get separated from everyone else..?" Lydia asked softly. She knew a little bit from what Delta had told her. That his group had formed a community in an abandoned prison where his mother died, and his sister was born, but he never mentioned how it had fallen. Or why. He never liked talking about his past much at all, so Lydia never really asked for details. It had been his business, after all - not hers.
Daryl looked up, his expression darkening. "Our group found a place to call home 'round a year after this shit started. But there was this asshole, called himself the Governor, who had a community not all that far away. He was a manipulative bastard, and a power-hungry one too. Tried attacking us a couple of times. Then, he just disappeared. We tried lookin' for him, but we couldn't find a trace of him, so we stopped." Daryl shook his head, his nostrils flaring. "Then, six or so months later, the fucker rolled up to our gates with a mini-army and a goddamn tank in tow. He destroyed the place, dying in the process. I saw Carl fighting off some walkers outside the walls, killed two of them, yelled at him to run. I tried trackin' him down, followed his trail to an old cabin. But after that..." the hunter sighed, "-was unable to find him."
Lydia remained quiet for a few seconds, mulling over this new information. "He thought you all were dead," she said finally.
"I know, he told me," Daryl said, his lips twitching into something close to a grimace, "some of us died over the years, but most of us are still alive." He glanced over at Lydia, his eyebrows knitting together. "His family is alive too, he ever tell you 'bout them?"
Lydia swallowed nervously. "He told me about his sister and his dad... His sister's name is Judith, right?" She didn't mention that she only just learned that a few days before.
Daryl looked unsurprised that she knew this information. "Yeah. The kid actually lives at the community we're headin to right now. She's a damn spitfire - I think you'd like her." Lydia couldn't help but smile at hearing this - Delta would be so happy to learn his sister was alive. He always seemed so... broken whenever talking about the baby sister he had loved so much. He would be overjoyed when he realized she wasn't dead.
If he ever realized...
Lydia winced at this thought, trying to push it away. She then opened her mouth, preparing to ask Daryl another question - about Delta's father this time. But before she could, there was a loud yelp of pain, and both Daryl and Lydia looked over to see Glenn struggling to climb to his feet. Connie was hovering above him with an annoyed expression on her face while Henry and Hershel watched curiously from the side. Daryl swore, striding forward. "The fuck are you doing?" He snapped to them. Dog sprang to his feet, giving a small yip and wagging his tail.
Glenn winced, though whether it was from pain or embarrassment, Lydia didn't know. "It's been more than five minutes, so we should get going." He explained, and it was clear to Lydia that every word was hurting Glenn more and more. Daryl seemed to sense this too, for he didn't try arguing, probably knowing that would only cause the other man more pain.
"Fucking Christ," the hunter muttered, but he grabbed Glenn's other arm, looping it around his shoulder as Connie moved back to help Henry up to his feet. Lydia, sensing she and Daryl's conversation was now over, moved to the blond boy's side, wrapping an arm around his waist so he could lean on her. Connie sent her a smile and went to go help Daryl with Glenn.
Soon enough, the group started walking again, mostly in silence. After a few minutes, Hershel decided that he was tired of this and started humming loudly to break the quiet. No one tried stopping him. Dog trotted a little bit ahead of the group, sniffing around and warning them of any approaching guardians, which Daryl or Connie quickly took care of before they could get too close. Lydia and Henry walked near the back, and she found herself eyeing the sky above anxiously, noting the yellows and oranges that now mixed in with the blue. The sun would be setting soon. Traveling at night would be dangerous - Lydia hoped that this 'Alexandria' was close. Otherwise things would start getting really bad.
"What were you and Daryl talking about?" Henry asked after thirty minutes of walking, and Lydia gave him a curious look. Henry clarified, "I mean, he's not much of a talker, and neither are you-" Lydia snorted "-so I was kind of surprised to see you guys talking with each other. Was it something important?"
Lydia shrugged - as best she could with Henry leaning against her. "It was about Delta."
"Oh," Henry bit his lip, mulling this over, "what about him?"
Should she tell him? Lydia wasn't sure. Henry was her friend, but she wasn't really sure if she could trust him quite yet, but, then again, she also didn't know Daryl all that well either, and he knew of Delta's identity...
Lydia made her decision.
She hoped it wasn't the wrong one.
"Apparently, Daryl and Glenn met Delta during the start of this - they were in the same group," Lydia said, choosing her words carefully as to not give too much information. Henry's eyes widened, and his mouth formed into a small 'o.'
"My mom was in the same group as Daryl was during the start," the blond said quietly after a second or two, "do you think she knew Delta as well?"
Huh.
That's interesting.
"I dunno, maybe," Lydia answered, staring at where Daryl and Glenn were walking ahead of them. A part of her was tempted to go up and pester Daryl with questions. But another part of her was telling her to wait - and she chose to listen to that part. Patience always paid out in the end. "It's why they reacted that way to the hat-" she tapped the brim of Delta's hat as she said this, "-because Delta used to wear it around them all the time."
Suddenly, Henry's face changed completely, forming into an expression of realization and shock. "Oh shit..."
Lydia blinked, confused. "What?"
"I know who Delta is," Henry breathed, "I heard my mom talking about him once to my dad. I never learned his name, but I know that his father is the leader of the community we're about to go to. He was actually at Hilltop while you were there."
Oh.
Well then.
Lydia probably should have expected that - if Delta's sister was at the community they were heading to, then why shouldn't his father be there too? For some reason, Lydia's mind immediately went to the bearded man she had seen Daryl talking to right after she and Delta had been captured at the bridge. Lydia remembered meeting the man's eyes briefly - they had been the same shade of blue as Delta's were. Lydia hadn't really thought much of it at the time - seeing as she was kind of scared out of her mind. But now...
Could... could that have been Delta's father?
"Do you think he knows that Delta is alive?" Henry whispered to her.
Lydia shook her head, and she soon found herself slightly dreading getting to Alexandria.
Because this?
This was either going to go very good or very bad.
And with her luck being the way it was, it was probably going to be the latter.
Fuck.
An odd feeling came over Daryl as he and the others approached the gates of Alexandria after another grueling hour of walking - it felt like it had been ages since he had last seen these walls, much less been inside them. But Daryl knew it had only been around a week. Still, that week had seemed like the longest one in his life. And with all the shit that had been going down back at Hilltop, could anyone really blame him? Daryl watched as the guard standing on top of the platform hoisted up her gun, but upon spotting them, lowered it. It was one of the Saviors who moved to Alexandria after Negan's imprisonment - if he was remembering things correctly, then her name was Laura.
"State your business." The blonde called out as the group pulled to a stop. Even from where he was, Daryl could easily see her eyes widening when she took in the battered state of the group - especially Glenn, whose condition had only gotten worse. He was hardly conscious at this point.
"Need't talk to Rick," Daryl rasped out after a moment, "or Michonne. Can y'get one of them?"
The woman gave the group a long look, then she leaned back, and Daryl could vaguely hear her shouting something to the people below. While she did this, Daryl turned to Lydia. If Rick was about to show up at the gates, she probably shouldn't be wearing that hat.
"Lydia." The girl looked up from where she stood at Henry's side. "Might want'ta take that hat off." She stared at him for a second before giving a small nod, reluctantly pulling the hat from her head and passing it over to Connie, who took it and stuffed it in their bag. The dark-haired woman looked more than a little curious as she put it inside but didn't ask. Or write.
Either way, Daryl was thankful.
No one said anything else for a couple minutes. But, finally, a familiar face showed herself - it was Michonne. She stared down at the group before them, her gaze lingering on Lydia before widening as they landed on Glenn. And with good reason, too.
"What happened?" She called out.
"S'long story," Daryl explained, "will tell it t'you later. But Glenn and Henry are hurt. You were the closest." He could see Michonne mulling this over, as well as her gaze drifting closer to Lydia.
"What about her?"
Without even realizing it, Daryl inched closer to Lydia - covering the girl from view as Henry called out: "She's with us."
Michonne nodded, straightening up before turning to face Aaron and Laura. The man said something to her, and Michonne stared at him for a few long moments before whispering something in return. She turned back around, peering at something just behind the gates. "Open it!"
Moments later, there was a creaking noise as the front gate squeaked open. Almost immediately, Aaron jogged through the opening, pulling to a stop in front of Daryl. His gaze moved over to Glenn, his face becoming marred with worry, "Want me to take him?" He asked quietly.
Daryl nodded, wordlessly passing Glenn off to Aaron, who whimpered at the movement, but otherwise did not make a single noise. Hershel, upon realizing that his father was being taken away, quickly made a move to follow. Daryl watched a few others rushed forward, helping the injured man to get to the infirmary. While a part of him was tempted to go with them, he knew that his friend was gonna be okay - he was in good hands here. So the group walked forward, and Daryl kept a hand on Lydia's shoulder, glowering at anyone who might try and question who she was.
The gate squeaked shut behind them, and Daryl couldn't hide a grin as Michonne approached. She strode forward, enveloping Daryl in a hug before stepping back and doing a quick once-over of their little group. Michonne glanced over in the direction of the infirmary before looking back at gesturing toward Henry.
"You should go and get that leg checked out," she told the boy, who made a face. She ignored it and looked over to where Laura was standing to the side, "take him to see Beth and Siddiq." The former-Savior nodded, and Daryl watched as she moved forward, helping the boy get to the infirmary.
Michonne's gaze then drifted to Lydia, arching a brow. "I remember you." She stated curtly. The girl winced.
Connie made a huffing noise, and Daryl watched as she pulled out her notepad, quickly scribbling something onto it. She raised it up so Michonne could see: She's one of us. We trust her. Michonne looked over at Daryl, a question in her eyes, and he nodded in confirmation of Connie's words. The woman sighed before giving Lydia a long stare, "you hurt anyone here, I will kill you myself."
"I assumed that would be the case," Lydia said quietly, "I won't hurt anyone." The girl glanced over in the direction Henry had disappeared in, something that Michonne obviously noticed.
"Connie can go with the infirmary with you," Michonne said after a moment, thankfully talking somewhat slowly so that Connie was able to understand her words. Connie then nodded, smiling at Lydia before starting to lead the girl to the infirmary. Daryl didn't bother asking how she even remembered where it was, seeing as she'd only been there once or twice. He just braced himself as Michonne turned to look back at him.
"Mind explaining what this was?" She asked after a moment, confusion, irritation, and worry apparent in her voice. "What the hell happened to Glenn? And Henry? And why was that girl with you?" Daryl grimaced as she fired off question after question, glancing around at the small crowd of people that had begun forming around them.
"Where's Rick?" He asked instead, ignoring Michonne's annoyed look as well as the exhaustion threatening to overcome him. "It would probably be better if y'heard this story together."
Michonne took a look around, apparently just noticing the crowd. "Fucking hell-" she closed her eyes, pinching her nose before opening them again and looking at Daryl, "Rick's playing with Judith and RJ. How about you head over to the infirmary to see Beth while I go and get him."
Daryl nodded, not wanting to pass up the opportunity to see his wife first. "Sounds good to me."
Lydia ducked into the infirmary with Connie at her side, eyes scouring for Henry. She spotted her friend's familiar figure sitting all alone on one of the white beds in the room, his face scrunched up in pain as he stared down at his wounded leg. He looked up upon hearing the door opening, his whole face lighting up when he saw Lydia at the door. Lydia couldn't help but smile as well, and she walked over, sitting beside him on the bed while Connie opened another door on the other side of the room, leading out into a hallway, and disappeared from view.
Lydia grabbed Henry's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Hey," she greeted.
Henry grinned, squeezing Lydia's hand back. "Hey."
Lydia glanced around. "Aren't there supposed to be doctors in here?"
Henry nodded. "There are - but one of the doctors is helping Glenn right now in a different room, and the other-"
"Mama is getting stuff to help his leg," an unfamiliar voice piped up, and Lydia's head shot up, her gaze then drawn to a little girl standing in the doorway of the door that Connie had just disappeared through. She looked to be around five or six years old, with light blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and dark blue eyes. She's wearing a small blue vest - one similar to what Daryl wore with a lot less tears in it - and had a stuffed animal, a wolf or something, tucked under her elbow.
Lydia could only stare, surprised at the little girl's sudden appearance. Henry, on the other hand, didn't seem as surprised. He just looked tired. "Hello, Annie." He said, sending the girl a small smile. He then looked at Lydia and, as if sensing her confusion, said, "Lydia, this is Annette. She's Hershel's cousin and... and Daryl's daughter."
Daryl's what?
Lydia could only stare as the little girl - Annette - bounded forward until she was only an inch or two away from the bed Lydia and Henry sat at. She peered at Henry's leg, making a face as she laid eyes on the wound, before looking up at Lydia. She stared at Lydia for a few seconds before beaming. "Hi, I like your hair. It's pretty."
What.
The.
Fuck.
"Um..." Lydia was at a loss for words. She didn't interact with children often, much less ones as young as Hershel or Anne. And she didn't really get complimented much either. Still, she knew that she had to say something. "Thank you..?" It came out as more of a question, if anything, but this seemed to satisfy Annie, for the little blonde clambered up onto the bed beside her before reaching out to grab a strand of Lydia's hair.
"It's soft," Annie declared, staring down at the piece of hair she held in her hand. Lydia just stared at her. Her hair was not soft. It was tangled with all sorts of twigs and leaves and would probably take ages to comb out. She sent a panicked glance toward Henry, and the blond had the gall to look amused. Lydia glared at him - he just grinned. Traitor. She winced as Annie tugged on her hair and looked back at the little girl. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a voice at the door.
"Annette Maggie Dixon, what are you doing?!" Annie's eyes went wide, and she dropped Lydia's hair, pulling her hand back as if she'd just been burned. Lydia looked up as an older blonde woman entered the room, a bag slung over her shoulders and a hand on her hip. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, a similar shade as Anne's, and it didn't take long for Lydia to realize that this was probably the little girl's mother.
"She wasn't doing anything wrong, Beth," Henry assured the woman, "she just took Lydia by surprise, that's all."
"Lydia?" The woman - Beth - echoed, her eyes landing on Lydia. "Oh, hello, I don't believe we've met," Beth sent her a kind smile, which Lydia shyly returned, "my name is Beth. Are you new to Alexandria?"
Lydia shrugged, "something like that..."
Beth nodded, her gaze returning to her daughter. "Anne, go play with Hershel - you won't want to see this." The little girl pouted.
"But Mama!" She cried out. "I wanna stay!"
Beth gave Annie a stern look. "Go."
The little girl's shoulders drooped, and Beth sighed. "You can shower Lydia in questions later, now go." The little girl's face brightened slightly, and she darted out the door. Beth watched her go before looking at Lydia. "Sorry about her. She doesn't meet new people often, so she gets really excited when someone she doesn't know appears. She'll probably ambush you later and ask if she can play with your hair or something."
"She likes hair?" Lydia questioned, blinking slowly. Beside her, Henry snorted.
"Kind of," Beth circles the bed, kneeling down beside Henry and peering at the wound on his leg. She placed her bag down, "She's obsessed with styling hair. She's trying to learn how to braid right now, actually." Beth took out a pair of scissors from her bag, cutting the fabric around the stab wound. Lydia had to do a double-take when she realized the woman's left arm from the elbow down was completely metal.
Beth must have sensed her surprise. "I got bit a couple years back helping a friend," she explained, and Lydia flushed, embarrassed at being caught staring. Thankfully, the woman didn't seem too offended by it, instead turning to Henry as she put down the scissors. "How long ago did you get this?" She questioned, taking out a sewing kit from her bag.
Henry's brows knitted together in thought. "Um, a few hours ago. Wasn't really keeping track."
"Did you clean it?" Beth asked next.
Henry nodded, "Yeah, it was the first thing Daryl did. Since when did he keep a first-aid kit in his vest?"
"I made him bring one with him before he left for Hilltop," Beth explained, pulling on a pair of gloves, "and it's a good thing I did." She peered up at Henry, holding up a needle in her hands. "This is gonna hurt." Henry grimaced, nodding. And Lydia reached out to squeeze his hand again.
"Just do it," Henry mumbled, "the sooner it's done, the better."
Beth smiled sadly, "agreed." Then, she focused down on the wound, and Lydia grimaced as she pushed the needle into Henry's skin. Immediately, Henry inhaled sharply, squeezing Lydia's hand hard. Lydia rested her other hand on his back, rubbing circles into his green jacket in an attempt to comfort him.
"The first stitch is done," Beth murmured absently, moving the needle back to the wound, "you ready for the next one?"
"Yeah," Henry panted, his face scrunched up in pain, "I'm ready."
Beth nodded, pushing the needle back in.
Henry gasped, a whimper escaping him.
Lydia just squeezed his hand harder.
The first thing that happened when Daryl entered the infirmary was get tackled by his tiny daughter. He stumbled back, lifted her into his arms, and swung her around, causing the little girl to burst into a fit of giggles. He then asked Siddiq where Glenn was, and followed the directions he was given into one of the rooms - Annette still curled up in his arms and Dog trotting at his heels.
When he entered, Glenn was, unsurprisingly, asleep. Hershel sat in a chair by his dad's bedside while Beth was putting a wet cloth on her brother-in-law's forehead but turned when she heard the door opening. A smile immediately spread across her face upon spotting Daryl. Annie - upon spotting her cousin in the corner - demanded to be put down. He let his daughter slip out of his arms, straightening up again as Beth strode forward, patting Dog on the head as she approached.
"Hey," she whispered before pressing a kiss to his lips.
As soon as she pulled away, Daryl enveloped her in a tight hug, pressing his nose into her hair and taking in her scent, "S'good to see you." He mumbled, and he felt her laugh into his chest. He didn't dare tell her that he thought he wouldn't see her again during the fight with Beta. He'd prefer to not tell her about Beta at all, but at the same time, he wasn't about to hide that kind of thing from her. Beta was a danger, and if Beth was oblivious to his existence, that would only get her hurt - or worse.
Beth hummed before suddenly pulling back from the hug. She peered up at him, her eyes narrowing. "Are you injured too?" She raised up her hand - the remaining one - her fingers grazing over the bruise that had just started forming on his cheek.
Daryl shook his head, leaning into her touch. "just a couple bruises," he assured her. Then his gaze drifted over to where Glenn now lay. "What about him? Will he be alright?"
Beth nodded, though her lips were twitching into a small frown. "He definitely has at least one broken rib - as well as a concussion - but he should be alright as long as he rests." Daryl's eyes widened - he hadn't even considered the possibility of a concussion. Glenn must have hit his head hard when Beta had thrown him to the ground. That also explained why Glenn seemed to be losing energy so quickly. Beth arched a brow at his reaction.
"Mind explainin' what happened that caused my brother-in-law to get so beat up?" Beth glanced over at the children talking in the corner. "And Henry, how did he end up getting hurt?"
Daryl sighed. "It's a long story..." at Beth's look, he sighed again. "Did Rick or Michonne tell y'what happened?"
"With Jesus and those skin people? Yeah, they did." Beth's face faltered at the mention of Jesus - she had been good friends with the man, so to hear that he was gone no doubt hurt a great deal. "Did you get attacked by the skin-people? Is that what happened?"
"Yeah," Daryl ran a hand through his hair, "I'll give ya the full story later. I just... m'pretty fuckin' tired right now."
Beth's face softened. She reached out, taking his hand. "You go and rest. I'll tell you when Rick and Michonne come."
Daryl could only muster up the strength to smile.
In the end, Daryl only lasted about five minutes lying in bed before he got back up again. There was simply too much on his mind to rest right now.
He went to Beth, told her the full story.
"Carl is alive," he said.
"He's one of these people," he said.
"Rick doesn't know," he said.
"I don't know what to do," he said.
Beth had stared at him for a long moment.
Then, she hugged him.
"Tell him the truth," she whispered into his ear.
Tell him the truth.
After doing a quick check on Glenn, Hershel, and Anne, Daryl had ventured out of the infirmary, not all that surprised to see Lydia and Henry sitting on some porch steps not that far away. They're peering at Henry's wounded leg, murmuring softly to one another in voices to quiet for anyone else to hear. Daryl, not quite ready to confront his best friend yet, decided to approach the two teenagers, nodding to Laura, who was standing guard a few feet away from them, no doubt at Michonne's orders.
Daryl made sure to keep his footsteps audible, not wanting to startle either of them. Sure enough, Lydia looked up at the sound of his approach, Henry following in suit a few moments later. The blond teenager smiled up at him, "Hey, Daryl."
"How's your leg?" Daryl asked, ignoring his greeting. Neither Henry or Lydia looked offended or surprised by that. Good.
Henry glanced down at his leg, making a face as he ran a finger down the stitches. "It's ugly," he said after a moment, "and it hurts, but not as much as before. Beth stitched it up really well - though she says it's probably going to scar."
Lydia bumped her shoulder into his, "that's not entirely a bad thing." Henry smiled at her, a faint flush covering his face - the poor kid was smitten. Lydia either didn't notice this or simply ignored it. And with all the shit that's been happening lately, Daryl wouldn't be too surprised if it was the former. Also, he was around ninety-nine percent sure that she had a crush on Carl, but he could be wrong.
Daryl gave Lydia a long look, "Beth told me y'met Anne." Almost instantly, the girl's face twisted into a tired expression, and she let out a heavy sigh. Next to her, Henry was clearly fighting to hide a laugh. Daryl couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face at this - Annette could tire anyone out. "She's a ball of energy, but y'get used't it."
"That's an understatement," she muttered under her breath, then Lydia peered up at him, her eyes curious, "I never realized you had a kid."
Daryl shrugged, "most don't. M'not exactly the kind of person to have kids. Sometimes I'm surprised by it as well." He wasn't exactly lying when he said this, either. If someone had told him ten years ago that he would be married with a kid - a daughter at that - he probably would have punched them in the face for lying. Dixon's had never been meant for parenthood; it simply wasn't something that any of them wanted or could deal with. Hell, Daryl had never even considered the concept of having a kid until Beth had told him she was pregnant. And when that happened, Daryl freaked out and left Alexandria for two full months (how he found Dog). Maggie had nearly broken his nose for it when he came back, and to be honest, Daryl probably deserved that.
But, somehow, Beth still forgave him for that. And little Annette was born a couple months after Hershel Rhee was.
"How is Glenn, by the way?" Henry asked, breaking Daryl out of his thoughts. Henry sighed, straightening up as he spoke. "Is he okay? Beth didn't really say much when I asked her." Henry's face wore an expression of guilt, and he fidgeted nervously. He was obviously blaming himself for what happened. That's good - at least he would think twice before doing something like that again. Kid could've gotten someone killed.
"He'll be fine, just needs to rest for a while," Daryl assured him, and Henry visibly relaxed. Even Lydia, who had only really known Glenn for less than two days, seemed relieved by this. Henry opened his mouth again, probably about to pester Daryl with more and more questions about Glenn's wellbeing when his gaze landed on something behind him, and his eyes went wide as saucers. Daryl grimaced.
Shit, what happened now?
"Daryl?" Rick's voice sounded from behind him, and the hunter felt his body tense up slightly, inwardly cursing himself for having that reaction to his best friend of all people. What the hell was wrong with him - Rick wasn't Will Dixon; he wasn't going to lay a hand on Daryl. The only reason Daryl was acting like this was because of the secret he now kept hidden. But Daryl didn't have the time to think about that, just turning and taking in the relieved face of Rick Grimes, who was smiling at him - though that smile faltered when his eyes landed on Lydia and Henry sitting on the porch steps. "Michonne told me you were here. I'm assuming you found Hershel and Henry." Rick gave the blond teenager a pointed look, causing Henry's face to flush with embarrassment.
"Not without a shit ton of trouble," Daryl said after a second or two. Once again, Henry winced, and poor Lydia looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there. Daryl couldn't blame her. The girl probably just wanted a little less drama to deal with.
Rick snorted, "Yeah, the fact that Glenn is unconscious in the infirmary kind of tells me that. What the hell happened out there?" His eyes narrowed, the confusion evident on his face. Daryl grimaced, exhaling slowly. He glanced over at Lydia and Henry, motioning for them to go away. Neither of them protested or complained, just climbed up to their feet and walked away. Daryl turned back to Rick, his heart heavy.
This would be the perfect moment to say something.
This would be the perfect moment to tell Rick about Carl.
"Want the full story or the short one," Daryl asked tiredly. Rick gave him a pointed look, opening his mouth to speak. But no words came out. He stared out at something over Daryl's shoulders, looking stricken. Daryl frowned at this, "Rick?" he tried.
No reaction. No response.
Then, a feeling of dread formed in his stomach.
Daryl turned, and his eyes landed on Lydia and Henry now walking down the street. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance.
But then he saw it.
Lydia was wearing Carl's hat again.
Daryl looked back at Rick. He saw the recognition flicker across his friend's face, followed by disbelief, horror, and confusion. Shit.
It's time.
There was no hiding this.
Rick had seen the hat.
Rick had seen and recognized the hat. Carl's hat. Daryl couldn't hide this from him any longer. Daryl had wanted to wait up until he actually had the courage to say something, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do that. Not anymore. Rick had begun to shake, and slowly - ever so slowly - he turned to stare at Daryl, his eyes wide and his face slack with shock. His friend looked at him with a question in his eyes.
No, no... it wasn't a question.
Rick opened his mouth before closing it again, utterly speechless. Before he could regain his voice, Daryl grabbed him by the arm, pulling his friend down Alexandria's street until they were back at the infirmary, yanking him inside and shutting the door behind him. Thankfully there wasn't really anyone inside right now - Beth must be somewhere else with Hershel and Annie, most likely getting them food, and Glenn was probably still unconscious in the other room. That's good. That would make this a little bit easier, wouldn't it?
The moment that the door clicked shut, Rick ripped his arm right out of Daryl's grip, stumbling backward and staring over at him with wide eyes.
"I need'ta tell you somethin," Daryl blurted out before Rick could say anything. But he was on the verge of slapping himself right now - because yes, he needed to tell Rick something, but he should have said something days ago when Alpha had first appeared at Hilltop's gates. He shouldn't be forced to do it. He should have done it before Rick saw that hat on Lydia's head. But since he's too much of a goddamn coward, here he was.
"You need to-" Rick jerked his head from side to side, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back up, his expression hard, "You need to tell me something?! Does that 'something' have anything to do with the fact that my son's hat is on that girl's head?!" His voice became louder and louder with every word, and Daryl bit back the urge to flinch away and flee. Because right now, Rick had every right to yell at him.
"Carl is alive," Daryl said, forcing himself to meet Rick's gaze - his brother looked... broken... at hearing Daryl's words. Almost as if he'd been expecting something different. "He's alive... has been for the past eight years. He's been with those skin-people for a while, dunno how long. He-"
"-is Delta..." Rick finished for him. His voice was quiet... weaker than he's ever heard it... tinged with disbelief, fear, and realization. Daryl tore his eyes away from Rick, refusing to look at him. Because he couldn't handle seeing the look of anger and betrayal that would no doubt be on Rick's face. That should be on Rick's face. He waited for Rick to say something - to start yelling, but instead, Rick was breathing heavily - choked out sobs escaping him no matter how hard his brother tried to hold them back. The sounds he was making now remind Daryl of their first meeting with Negan, weirdly enough. Of how broken everyone had seemed after the madman had killed two of their friends. But for some reason, this felt so much worse. Daryl could hardly breathe right now. It was like a snake had wound itself around his chest, squeezing until his lungs were screaming for air.
It hadn't felt like this when they met Negan. All Daryl had been feeling at the time was rage and grief. But here...
"I'm sorry..." Daryl rasped out. Sorry? Fucking hell Dixon, pull yourself together. Sorry wouldn't help Carl. Sorry wouldn't help Rick. They were hollow words that wouldn't do shit for anyone. Daryl had known this for as long as he could remember - had known how empty the word 'sorry' was - but he still said it. Maybe he said it because he couldn't stand staying silent, or perhaps it was because of some other reason. Daryl didn't know. "I... I wanted to tell you sooner, but I just-" Daryl cut himself off, not trusting himself to keep talking. Nothing he said would do anything to help his case. It would only make Rick hate him more.
Maybe that would be for the best.
Despite his better judgment, Daryl forced himself to look up at Rick.
The look that his brother was giving him shattered his heart into pieces.
Rick stared at Daryl, not saying a single word. For some reason, that made it so much worse. Rick should be yelling - should be screaming at the top of his lungs - should be blaming Daryl for hiding Carl's identity from him. Rick should be trying to hit him, and Daryl wouldn't fight back because he fucking deserved it. But he wasn't. Instead, Rick remained silent. He stayed silent, but all Daryl wanted him to do was yell. For him to say something. Anything.
Then, ever so slowly, Rick sunk down to his knees, his hands moving to cover his face. Daryl stepped back, watching with wide eyes as his brother began to break down. In seconds, Rick had started shaking violently, sobs wreaking havoc on his body. Practically shattering on the floor in a billion gasping, choked out pieces that he had tried so hard to piece back together since his son's supposed death, only to fall apart almost a full decade later.
"Rick..." Daryl took a step forward, reaching out a hand.
"Don't touch me!" Rick snapped, slapping away the hand that Daryl had stretched out. Daryl jumped back, snatching his hand to his chest, and though the slap only stung a little bit, Daryl felt as if he'd just been stabbed in the heart. While a look of guilt passed over Rick's face, it was quickly shadowed by a look of anger and grief, "Just... just get out." Rick hung his head, his shoulders shaking as tears trailed down his cheeks. "Please..."
Daryl could only stare at his brother's slumped over form as he backed away toward the door. "Okay... okay, I'll go..." he whispered, trying to fight back the tears threatening to fall from his own eyes - goddammit, was he really about to cry? Pull it together. "I'm sorry..." Rick just shook his head, not saying a word.
For some reason, that just made it so much worse.
Turning the doorknob, Daryl stumbled out from the infirmary - practically collapsing against the door as soon as it closed.
"I'm so sorry..."
The sun had begun to set by the time Carl and the two women wandered back into camp. He dismissed them quickly, telling them he would go report to Alpha. Neither of them argued - if anything, they looked relieved. So Carl watched them go before turning, picking his way through camp. A few people glanced up at him as he walked by, but all Carl had to do was glare at them, and they would look away. After his little... show with David, no one in the pack was going to try and challenge him anytime soon. That was good.
And kind of a shame. Carl always loved the thrill of a fight, especially when it ended with him winning.
As Carl neared the area where Alpha had set up her own shelter, Beta appeared from behind a tree, causing Carl to stop in his tracks. He arched a brow at the larger man, who simply huffed, making a motion for Carl to follow him. Delta did so without complaint, knowing better than to refuse. His fingers twitched for a knife as Beta led him through the more empty side of camp, but he resisted the urge to pull it out.
Beta led Delta to a small clearing where a dead deer lay in the middle, its insides coating the forest floor - not exactly an unfamiliar sight at this point. Next to the animal's corpse was Alpha, covered in blood and wearing her mask as she stuck her hand into the deer's stomach. A few other Whisperers lingered nearby but quickly scattered upon spotting Beta and Delta's approach. Alpha glanced up, narrowing her eyes. She pulled her hand out from the deer, standing up, and Beta pulled to a stop in front of her, Delta quickly doing the same.
"You're back early," she said to Carl, gesturing for Beta to leave them alone. The larger man dipped his head before slipping away. Delta forced himself not to react to this.
"We found the community sooner than we expected," Delta answered.
"And?" Alpha inquired, impatience seeping into her tone. She didn't like to be kept waiting.
"It's like the last one," Delta told her, "they have walls, livestock, weapons, but they're weak." Alpha crossed her arms, looking Delta up and down, before nodding.
"And my daughter? Was she there?" Delta tilted his head, a frown pulling at his lips. He hadn't seen any sign of Lydia, but that didn't mean she wasn't there.
"I didn't see her, but I did see something else I found interesting..." That quickly caught Alpha's interest, and the woman stared at him for a long moment. Delta took this as a sign to go on, "These people... they seemed to be getting ready for something. Some kind of journey. Maybe a trade with the other communities."
"The scouts I sent to the other community said similarly," Alpha replied curtly, "there seems to be some kind of... festival being planned." Delta's eye widened to the size of saucers. Alpha didn't have to explain why she was telling him this. He knew perfectly well what this meant.
"You want to attack them," Delta said. Alpha nodded, looking pleased that he picked up on her plan so quickly. She glanced around before ripping one of her knives out of the dead deer's stomach.
"Yes, but not in the way we've done in the past," Delta cocked his head, curiosity thrumming through him. Alpha smiled at him from beneath her mask, sending an uneasy shiver down his spine. "I plan on sneaking into this... festival... when the time comes."
Oh...
That... that couldn't be good.
"Why are you telling me this?" Delta questioned.
Alpha raised a finger to silence him. "I was getting to that." Alpha reached into her pocket, pulling out a vial of some sort. She tossed it toward Delta, who caught it with great ease. "I want you to come with me, sneak that into a couple of the people's food or water. Once that vial is empty, sneak back out and meet Beta at the old barn a few miles west. Do you know which one I'm talking about?" Delta nodded - he had passed by it a few times. "Good. You will find Beta and a few others waiting there. Stay with them until I come to find you all - got it?" Delta gave a quick nod, mulling over his orders. He stared down at the small vial Alpha had given him - was it poison? Where would Alpha even get something like that? He didn't dare ask.
Delta tucked the vial into his pocket. "What about the people of Hilltop? If they see me, won't they recognize me?" Alpha smiled serenely.
"Don't get seen, and you won't have to worry about that." Alpha waved a hand at him. "Dismissed. I will find you when the time comes."
Delta dipped his head in a sign of respect, turning around and quickly striding away. His mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts and ideas - what was Alpha planning? This seemed so much different than any previous attacks the Whisperers made on other communities. Was it because these ones were bigger? Did Alpha want to take a different approach because they had more people? But that didn't seem like something Alpha would do. None of this seemed like something she would do. Carl tucked his hands into his pocket, fingers curling around the vial she had given to him.
Doing a quick glance around, he ducked behind a nearby tree and out of sight. Slowly, he pulled the vial out, peering at its contents. It didn't look entirely like a liquid. More like a bunch of crushed plants and such with clumps swirling around in it... was that what it was? Just a bunch of plants. That would make sense. Alpha could have made a poison out of the plants of the forest.
But would he use it?
It's not like he would actively be killing anyone. All he had to do was slip some of this into a few people's food and water, and he would be good. He could just do it to people he didn't know. But that didn't sit well with him either. None of this did.
But what could he do? Maybe he could just dump the vial and pretend he used it. But what if Alpha had some way of finding out what he did. She would kill him if that happened.
Carl had no idea what was going through that woman's head. Had no idea what she had in store for these communities. He had a horrible feeling forming in his gut, but he couldn't do shit about it. It's not like he could try and warn anyone - people would notice if he disappeared without reason.
Carl sighed, tucking the vial back into his pocket.
This is going to end badly.
Carl just prayed that he and his family would still be alive by the end of it.