Chapter 8
Mary had a Little Ram

It felt good to walk in the forest. It was the only place I actually felt safe. Negan was in our town today and I never wanted to see him again if I could help it. I always made it a point to disappear on days he showed up. No one discouraged it even if I had school, though he tended to arrive by the time we were let out. As much as I hated him there was a small bright side to his visits. I could stay out as late as I wanted and no one would come looking for me. My father especially didn't want me anywhere within sight of that asshole, though I'm not sure if he would approve of me being outside of the fence more or less.

My thoughts wandered to our encounter in the forest a week ago and I wondered if he would say anything about it. He had said he wouldn't but I doubted he would keep his word; he rarely did. I suspected if he wasn't going to say anything about that in particular he'd at least ask where I was. With a sinking feeling I believed I had unintentionally caught his interest now.

The idea sent shivers up my spine and made my heart pound in anxiety, so I tried to distract myself with other thoughts.

He would take more things today and I'd compensate by bringing something new back. Maybe it wouldn't be as much as he took away but it would be something. I could go to the honey tree and bring back more jars, since he took the three I was planning to give to a few people who would appreciate them, I could check the snares, or I could go to the river and fish for a while. I was good at fishing. Large fish we could eat; small fish we could use as fertilizer but I wasn't all that sure I was up for fishing right now.

I decided to go to the island instead. Having a body of water between me and everything else felt infinitely safer. I loved the island; the one roomed witch's cottage complete with an actual cauldron, mystical spinning wheel, spell ingredients, the magical garden, and the attic filled with treasures and artifacts of the past. It was like something out of a fairy tale; my own secret place that was guarded by magic and an enchanted forest, full of dangerous beasts that would allow only me to pass through.

Yeah… sometimes I really did feel like I was in a fairy tale. Maybe hundreds of years from now people would tell it like some kind of bedtime story to their children. I wasn't sure how it was bound to be told. I guess the story had yet to be written.

I got lost in thought while I followed the path towards the island, when suddenly something knocked me off my feet.

I face planted in the dirt just then and my butt suddenly recognized the sensation left on it.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I yelled as I crawled up to my feet.

Just as I predicted there was the culprit responsible for sending me to the ground.

"Ram Dover! What are you doing outside of the walls?" I yelled at him, shoving against his horns. "Go home, you bad sheep!"

He did nothing but shove back at me, making my feet slide in the dirt with his strength.

Just then I heard yelling off in the distance and recognized the voices as several people from our town, probably here to chase after the missing livestock. I couldn't afford them catching the ram and catch me in addition so I hastily tugged on the horn, leading him where we could easily lose the pursuers.

I heard moaning just then and spotted a small herd of walkers. At the sight of the sheep they hobbled forwards but with me so close to their quarry they seemed to change their mind. The yelling from our pursuers diverted them and I considered leaving Ram Dover to bring their attentions away from our friends.

I finally decided against it. My friends had experience and there were only a few of these undead. We only had one ram and if he died we lost a whole flock. It would distract our friends and I could return later with Ram Dover once the Saviors had left.

For the moment I reluctantly allowed the sheep to remain as my traveling companion. We walked until I was sure our pursuers had been diverted by the herd. Hopefully they hadn't been surprised and hopefully no one was dead or hurt.

"Alright," I said to him, keeping a hand on one of his horns the same way an adult might keep a hand on the ear of a misbehaving child, "You can come, it's not like I have any other choice about it, but if you knock me over one more time, you can find your way home one your own."

He gave me a responding baa, and followed along. Even knowing that we were well on our own now, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, following along in the distance. Every time I looked over my shoulder though, there was no one there, no one that had dodged out of the way at the last moment but I felt them on my back even so. I was sure now that I definitely didn't want to take him to the island. It seemed now as though it were in danger of being discovered by more than just a renegade ram.

I kept walking with the ram at my side. If nothing else I could at least see if I could bring back some dinner.

The snares should have been alright, assuming nothing had beat me to them. Fishing and checking the honey tree seemed productive in addition to that. There was also a patch of wild raspberries and blackberries that should have been good to gather. They ought to have been ripe enough by now. Surely they were.

Sudden barks and loud yelping interrupted my thoughts just then and I recognized the sounds of the local pack of wild dogs. I would have sprinted but they weren't hunting. They were being hunted—or attacked it sounded like. Curiosity winning out over common sense, I moved towards the sounds and came upon a grove where a den was dug into the earth around a large pine.

All around me were bodies of the pack as dozens of walkers tore large chunks of their hides off. The yelping was unbearable as I witnessed the creatures being slaughtered. I didn't really think it through before I grabbed a large stick and leapt down, swinging it wildly at the monsters.

"GO! Get out of here!" I shouted, swinging it back and forth.

They looked up from their food by the commotion but at the sight of me, they began to move slowly away.

For the dogs that were already dead, I could do nothing for. The dogs that were dying, I was only able to put them out of their misery.

I always hated this part, as necessary as it was. Vanessa and John had instructed me on it. Either snap their necks or burry a knife in their skulls was the way to kill an animal. The cute ones were always the hardest.

I still remember the first time I held a rabbit in my arms and was directed to break its neck.

It was awful.

I still feel how it stayed so still in my arms, so trusting yet frightened, almost like so long as it remained calm, it may appeal to my better nature. It was agony to snuff that hopeful little gaze out.

With wounded animals, like these ones, it was a bit easier.

They were in such pain and I knew there was not a thing I could do for them other than try to alleviate some of that pain. But I knew better than to approach any of them. Walkers often carried diseases, dogs too, not to mention they'd be even more vicious now that they knew their time was limited.

I tossed knives at them instead.

I was good at tossing knives. I was good with a slingshot as well—better in fact. I had tried a bow and arrow before but they always seemed so bulky and hard to maneuver for me. So I opted with the knives and slingshots instead. They were small, lightweight, good to aim, and easier to conceal in my clothes.

When finished, it looked like the walkers had killed off the whole pack of seven dogs.

I felt bad. They had been my only real competition out here; they were mean, vicious, and more dangerous even than walkers, but we had shared these woods together. It didn't feel right how they had gone.

Just then Ram Dover moved towards the den. I had almost forgotten he was there before he bayed.

"No, Dover, stay out of…"

I trailed off as I looked inside. I guess the whole pack hadn't died after all.

Inside the den were around five small bundles of fur; puppies. Judging from their closed eyes and their frailty they couldn't have been more than a couple weeks old at the most.

I knew what would happen to them were I to turn around right now.

They would die; plain and simple as that. Their pack was dead and no one would take care of them or protect them from the walkers.

I thought about leaving them anyways, but somehow Ram Dover looked at me accusingly as if reading my mind.

"We won't be able to keep them." I told him. He kept staring at me in that accusing sort of way. "It's not that easy!" I stated, trying to shake his expression. He just continued to fix me with that stare.

"I thought you were a sheep here! Don't you hate these things?" He only stared.

It would be nearly impossible to feed them, when it was hard to even feed ourselves some times, but I just couldn't bring myself to turn away.

"Alright already! Geez, you don't have to yell at me!"

Grudgingly I pulled off my new knapsack.

Rearranging things a bit, I managed to convert the bag into a makeshift carrier and placed the puppies inside one at a time. They were small, so that was good at least, but I worried the bag would suffocate them. I left the flap opened and arranged them side by side so they had the easiest access to fresh air.

Going back home was a little harder than I anticipated. I needed to walk carefully, and the ram by my side, while he hadn't plowed into me again so far, kept knocking into my side and throwing me off my path. Perhaps he understood I was his only protection against the dead things lurking around the woods and so long as he stayed at my side, none of them would come near him.

When I reached home, I was just in time to watch as Negan and his crew was loading up. But before going he turned to my father and I managed to be close enough to catch what was said.

"Crying shame I missed your daughter before she went on that big run with your other people. Hope she gets back safely." He turned, his sickening white smirk catching the sun as he looked back. "Can't imagine what kind of a loss that might do to someone like you…"

I wanted so badly to hit him with something, maybe use my slingshot to teach him a lesson, but I stayed rooted, straining my ears to hear what he said.

"You know I was wondering how you got those sheep in the first place. What's this "elf" talk going on? Got a wanderer in the woods watching your backs now?"

"I wouldn't really know." Dad said calmly. "Sometimes we find things it leaves us. Food mostly." My heart began to speed up. "Remedies it might manufacture itself. Sometimes honey. Nothing you'd probably be interested in, though."

My heart caught in my throat by the mention of honey and I knew at that moment that Negan realized it at the same time.

"We never see it and it doesn't seem to be out to do us harm."

Negan was silent for a long dreadful moment, long enough to make my stomach tie in all sorts of horrible knots.

"Anyone who wonders alone in the woods at a time like this in history," He began with an unsettling smirk, "without joining the people they're helping, does it because they've got a secret. I'm surprised you haven't worked harder to find out what that secret is." I hated the way he said the word "secret" and knew he was determined to find out what my secret was long before my father could figure it out. I wanted to shrink right into the ground I stood on and not move ever again.

I was almost entirely petrified as I watched him turn after bidding my father goodbye and telling him when they would be back again. Then he climbed into one of the two carts he brought with him today and sped off with Dad watching them go, making sure they were out of sight before he turned back into Alexandria. I waited maybe one minute before I rushed up myself and tied Ram Dover to the outside gate, leaving the puppies in a crate lined with a towel from one of the broken down surrounding houses.

Ram Dover bayed loudly, drawing the attention of the guard who wasted no time in bringing him back inside along with the puppies.

When I returned through my usual route I spotted my Dad as he was coming down the road from the main entrance. His gaze seemed a bit haunted just then as he caught sight of me. With hardly any emotion he walked up to me and said very quietly, "Git home."

I had no idea what was going through his mind but I sensed something serious was about to happen, so without a word I obeyed. He followed behind, being sure that I got home without making any detours.

Once the door had shut behind him, I looked up, waiting for what he would say.

"How long have you been going out of the walls alone?"

I stared at him. His face wasn't angry; in fact it was entirely expressionless. I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling right now and the uncertainty of it was what unnerved me the most.

"I…" There were no words that I could think of.

"I know you've been out there." He said. "How long have you been going out there?"

I looked away from his eyes. "A while."

"Do you want to tell me why?"

"Why not?" I shrugged, being indifferent towards the idea.

"Because you're a child, Judith." He announced voice growing steadily sterner. "There are an infinite number of things out there that can kill you and I don't think you understand that."

"I do understand that, Dad." I said looking back at him. "That's why I'm still alive in the first place. I can last longer out there than anyone."

His face seemed to flinch involuntarily by that.

"Are you the elf?"

I couldn't meet his gaze. "Yes."

He didn't look like he totally believed it. "How is that possible? All the things we've gotten over these past years. How did you even find them?"

I wasn't sure I could tell him about my friend who left so long ago and had been the culprit for our most outrageous and successful foraging voyages. Such things would have been impossible for me to have accomplished alone and Dad knew it.

"…You had help. Didn't you?"

Silently I nodded.

"What happened to them?"

I looked at the ground and sighed, working hard to keep my eyes dry as I answered. "He's just gone, Dad. He left me, and he's not coming back."

I focused on the ground, unable to look him in the eye while he processed the wave of sudden discovery.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

My head snapped up and I stared back at him in shock. This was one of three questions we asked newcomers before we let anyone join us. They were the questions we asked to see if someone could be trusted or not. Now my father was questioning his trust in me by asking me the same three questions.

"Dad!" I gasped in appall. "Are you really asking me those questions right now?"

"How many walkers have you killed?" He said more firmly.

I didn't drop my gaze. "One."

His face flashed with a stunned streak by the thought of such a low number, but he continued without commenting on it. "How many people have you killed?"

My fists clenched tightly. "Just one."

He wasn't surprised by that.

"Why?"

My brain racked for an answer he would believe. "I guess… because I've just been lucky."

"Exactly!" He said. Every inch of his body was tense with seriousness. Then he leaned down putting his hands on my shoulders to look me dead in the eye. "You've been lucky! That's the only reason you managed to stay alive for this long. But that luck is going to run out, Judith and I'm not letting you go out there again to watch that happen."

"You can't protect me forever, Dad."

"It's still my job to try." He stretched up to his full height and looked down at me. "By the way, why did Negan ask about you? He's never done that before."

I didn't say anything, but he figured it out anyways. "You met him in the woods, didn't you?"

Dropping my gaze, I nodded.

"That's how he knew it was your birthday."

Again I nodded.

"What happened?" He said, almost frantically. His imagination was running wild and I could tell from his gaze that a million horrible possibilities were running unchecked through his head at such a terrifying idea.

"I wasn't hurt." I said easing his worries a bit. "I was just walking and I heard him and his men beating someone up. They caught me. Negan recognized me but couldn't remember from where for a moment. Then he did. He thought it was funny and he wanted to know why I was outside the wall so late and actually wanted to know if you knew I was out there on my own. I got angry at him and dared him to tell on me to you." Just then I glared back at him in a scandalized way. "Did he really tell on me to you?"

Dad looked very much like he wanted to face palm about now. "You're missing the point. And I do figure some things out on my own. You're not as discreet as you think." He steered me back to my retelling and I continued.

"Well they searched me and took my bag. And…"

"And what?"

"…I might've challenged him a bit."

"You challenged him?"

I nodded. "Then he told me about the night that Glenn and Abraham died."

He froze and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. His whole face seemed to drain of all color while he stared back at me.

"H-how much did he tell you?" His face looked utterly terrified.

"Just most of what I already knew." I whispered. "He bashed their heads in. He made everyone watch. Then his men beat each and every one of them." We both flinched at the imagery and Dad's hands tightened on my shoulders, trembling slightly.

"And…?"

"And then… he said that you and him got familiar with one another." I still didn't understand what that meant but it was plain from his expression that was an enormous understatement. Something crossed over his face by it, like the shadow of something so dark there were no words for it.

"Dad?" I whispered, reaching out for him carefully. "Dad, are you alright?"

"I—I…" He didn't answer for one long terrifying moment. His head bowed and he looked suddenly very sick and faint.

"Dad!" I grabbed his shoulder, attempting to steady him.

"I'm fine." He said, regaining his composure. "I'm fine. Just go on. Tell me what happened next."

I hesitated while I watched if he would stumble again before feeling confident enough to keep going.

"After he said that he threatened and shouted at me and I got scared. It seemed like what he wanted because he backed off after that. Then he wanted my help with something." Dad tensed again. "He wanted me to decide what we would do with the man he had beaten up."

"And what did you say?"

A lump formed in the back of my throat at the thought of it. I was so angry, tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. "I-I knew him—alright! I recognized him because he was one of the men that stole all our medicine. I was just so angry! I hated him. I imagined it was Negan and I thought about what I wanted to be done to him so… so I…"

He waited for me to finish and when I finally found the courage to speak again I said it all in a frantic rush as if it would hurt less if I said it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

"I told them to strip him and throw him in a herd!"

His grip on me loosened and he looked shocked. "Judith…"

"I know okay!" I shouted tears bursting from my eyes. "He let me decide and I… I didn't … I was just so…" His arms encircled me and I sobbed in his chest. "I hate them! I hate them all! I want the worst things ever to happen to them! Abraham's gone, Glenn can't be at peace, Maggie's in hiding, everyone is scared to death, and… they broke you! Out of everything that's happened—that just…"

He looked like he wanted to die when I said those words.

"Did they make you watch?"

"No… I slipped away while the man was panicking. No one even knew I was going until I was gone. They couldn't catch me."

He breathed a deep sigh of relief after that and relaxed, if only slightly.

"Nothing else happened?"

"No. I came home after that."

"Did they watch you come back?"

"No. They didn't. I'm sure they didn't. They would have caught me and dragged me back to watch otherwise. I know they would've."

He was quiet for another very long moment.

"You're lucky." He said lowly, "God, you're lucky you got away. But you can't rely on luck anymore. There's not enough of it left in the world. You're never leaving these walls alone again, you hear me? If you go out, you take Carl, me, or Michonne with you. No exceptions."

I nodded. It was only fair.

"Also, you're grounded… forever."

Author's Notes: Ugh! You know what the hardest thing about writing is, in my opinion?

When the best time to introduce things are.

I've been working on this thing for months! The chapter with the Radio Host was one of the single factors for why it took me so long to post this particular story in the first place. I desperately wanted to include it and I wasn't going to post it until I'd worked out the kinks.

Another hard thing that I find with writing is foreshadowing. It's so tacky to just present things out of the blue without preceding cues.

But as peeved as that makes me, I find it extremely difficult to hone that particular technique.

I've struggled with a few scenes I really, really wanted to add in this thing and you've no idea how hard it was for me to work out when the best times to include them were. I'm a crazy sort of person who doesn't exactly write in chronological order but writes my favorite scenes first, arranges them accordingly, and then fills in the blanks later. I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense but if I don't do it that way then I'm going to forget the scene and I won't be able to remember it later or at least write it the way I first intended it, when it was fresh in my mind.

If you liked it or wanted to offer some insight feel free to leave a comment.