Disclaimer: A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.
Thank you Nicole for editing this chapter even though you have so much going on!
A/N: I know I have this story rated M, but I wanted to give an additional warning for this chapter. I will have some very graphic depictions of violence in this chapter. Just a little above my 'normal' walker gore!
…
Upon meeting Cooper at the stables, Beth had felt right at home the moment she got into her saddle. She had no recollection of horses before Alexandria, but there had been a sort of muscle memory that took over the moment she'd been handed the reins. Morgan hadn't taken to riding quite as naturally as Beth, but he'd had experience with horses in his younger years and just needed a few moments to get reacquainted with the mechanics of maneuvering the animal. Once he'd been able to get the horse moving the direction he desired, he had given her a nod and they were on their way.
It was quiet, almost peaceful, as they rode through the woods. Beth was used to traveling in relative silence, but typically by this point, Morgan would have already broken down and started telling her some nonsense story, that she was never able to fully visualize, about a world where walkers didn't roam the earth. For him to remain quiet for such a long time was unnerving.
"Whatcha' thinkin' about?" Beth inquired when the lack of conversation became too much for her to bear.
"Hmm?" Morgan hummed as he looked over at her, "Oh, nothin'. Jus' something I heard when you and your sister were talkin'."
Beth nodded, not wanting to pry if he wasn't willing to discuss what was causing him distress.
"I had a brother," Morgan began, his voice barely reaching her over the clicking of the horse's heels along the rocky path, "He was a few years younger."
"What happened to 'em?" Beth pulled back on the reigns to slow her horse down to match Morgan's leisurely pace.
"He moved to Richmond, when he found out his wife was havin' twin's," he revealed as his horse rode alongside hers, "My nephew was around six years old at the time."
Beth chewed on her bottom lip, recalling their short and disastrous trip through Virginia.
"Shirewilt Estates," Beth said after a moment, "That's why you wanted to go by there."
Morgan nodded solemnly.
"But," Beth furrowed her brows, "You still don't know…"
"The gate was busted open and tha' place was swarmin' with walkers," Morgan sighed, "I know what happened."
"Maybe they got out?" Beth suggested earnestly.
"Maybe," Morgan shrugged his shoulders, "But I've learned it's bes' not to wish for such things. It's easier on the soul t'think they're not out here sufferin'."
Beth understood. She'd seen her fair share in the short amount of time she'd had to gain memories and very few of them hadn't left some sort of mental or physical scar. Even so, a small part of her had hope that his brother and family managed to escape the fate of the Shirewilt Estates.
"How old would your nephew be now?" She asked; reaching in her pouch for a bottle of water and offered it to him.
He accepted it with a smile and lifted the bottle to his lips, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket when he was done, "I s'pose Noah would be around your age now."
She immediately recognized the name to be the same 'Mr. Noah' that Hershel had been referring to earlier and queried, "Think it's the same person?"
"Could jus' be a coincidence," Morgan's voice lilted while he spoke and gave her back the water bottle, "I'll ask Rick about 'em when we get back."
Knowing the conversation was over, Beth nodded and took the bottle from him and stuffed it back into the leather pouch attached to her saddle.
They continued riding in silence, but the tension that she had felt from Morgan seemed to have drained away after their conversation. The birds chirped, the clicking of the horse's heels against the rocks persisted in a rhythmic pattern, and the cool breeze detached the last remaining leaves still clinging to their tree limbs. In that moment, as organic flakes of red, yellow, and orange floated to the ground, Beth was overwhelmed by the same sense of ease she'd experienced in Daryl's deer stand.
"Is this what it was like?" She asked quietly, afraid her voice would shatter the moment, "Before?"
"Well," Morgan exhaled, exaggerating the word, "It felt a lot like this sometimes. We still got that lingerin' worry that walkers are nearby though. We never had that before."
Beth sat straighter in her saddle, as if just mentioning the abominations that plagued the world summoned them from the regions the trees hid from their view.
"I remember," Morgan let out a breathy chuckle as he reminisced, "A few summers ago, Duane an' I, we were at this park. It was the same park we always went to, but the weather was nice, kinda' like this, and there were all these…people there. They were everywhere."
Beth looked over at him when he pulled his horse to a stop, doing the same a moment later, and waited for him to continue.
"We were complainin' about how crowded it was and that we couldn't do the things we normally did because people were in 'our' spot. Instead 'ah tryin' to make the best of it, we jus' turned around and left. That was tha' last time I ever took my son t'the park."
His knuckles were white from where he held onto the reigns and the slight quiver in his voice pulled at her heartstrings. Turning her eyes, giving him what little privacy she could, Beth scanned their surroundings once more.
"What I wouldn't give to be able to go back to that moment and enjoy that day...," he sighed loud enough for her to hear.
"You think it'll ever be like that again?" Beth asked letting her gaze return to him.
"No," he looked up at the sky that was visible through the barren tree limbs, "it'll never be like that again, but someday...it may be close."
She knew he was referring to the fact that things would never be the same for him because Duane was dead. His wife was dead. In his mind, everyone he knew and loved was dead. Morgan's whole world had been destroyed by the apocalypse…just like it had destroyed her. She had no happy memories to return to, no wishes left unfilled, and no loved ones to miss. It was both a blessing and a curse.
She'd had a life before, but whatever had happened all those years ago had stripped her of everything that had made her who she had once been. Realizing how dark her thoughts had turned, and that fretting over things she couldn't control would get her nowhere, she decided to try and lighten the mood.
"I dunno' if I'd fit in very well," Beth laughed breathily.
"I'd look after ya'," Morgan immediately replied, still staring up at the sky, "There are lots of other people who'll make sure you're taken care of now too."
Beth was about to reply when a gunshot sounded.
Morgan immediately snapped to attention and both of them frantically searched for who could have fired a rifle or if there were any walkers nearby to hear it.
Feeling a warm sensation pooling on her leg, Beth glanced down, releasing her reigns with one hand to press it against her side.
"Beth?" Morgan's concerned voice reached her ears.
Pulling her hand back, it was covered in a sticky, crimson liquid.
"Oh my God," Morgan began untangling himself from his saddle when another gunshot was fired.
Just as Morgan's fee hit the ground, his horse dropped dead beside him. Beth's horse reared back on its hind legs from the commotion and she reached for the saddle horn with her blood covered hand. She tried to hold on, but found herself slipping, crashing to the ground on her back while her horse took off into the trees behind them.
For a moment, she was disoriented; her eyes refused to focus and the machete strapped to her back forced her to lie at an awkward angle.
Morgan was at her side when her eyes slowly began making out the details around them. She could feel him tugging on something, suddenly being able to lie flat on her back, and then he rushed to his saddlebag and returned with a bundle of white and his knife in hand. Unbuttoning her flannel shirt enough to reveal her abdomen, he covered the entrance wound with a bandage.
"It's a through and through," he murmured while gently turning her on her side and placing another adhesive bandage on her back.
"Cauterize it," Beth said while trying to sit up.
"The lighter was in your pack," Morgan pushed her back down and glanced in the direction her horse had disappeared.
"Just wrap it up," Beth huffed and swatted his hand away as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, "We've got to get back."
Morgan glanced down at her bandaged side before nodding. He quickly removed his tan scarf from around his neck and tied it tightly, over the bandages, around her waist.
"It doesn't hurt," she placed her hand on his shaky one still securing the knot around her, "I can't feel it. 'Member?"
"It's because you can't feel it that I'm worried," Morgan said gravely, "You could have 'ah ruptured organ or blood vessels. Not to mention 'ah concussion."
"I'm fine," she tried to argue as he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her.
"Wear it," he requested as she pulled her arms through the sleeves, "You're gonna' lose more blood and you've gotta' keep in your body heat.
"Let's just get-"
Groaning in the distance silenced her mid-sentence and they both froze.
When the guttural sound was heard again, Morgan hurdled over his dead horse, using his machete to slice open the animal's stomach, and ripped the saddlebags away from the ties that held them in place. The sound of the horse's innards falling onto the ground was deafening in the silence that now surrounded them. The birds had all flown away after the first gunshot, the air felt like it had dropped several degrees, and the empty limbs above them appeared more ominous than they had before.
"That oughta' keep 'em busy for a while," Morgan whispered, tugging her to her feet, and giving her the bandolier he had taken off of her a moment ago, "Let's go."
Beth nodded and then they began running.
…
A branch slapped her across the face and she knew it had broken the skin, but she kept running. Morgan was leading the way, machete in hand, as she instinctively rolled up the sleeve to Morgan's jacket and strapped hers to her arm. She knew her forearm wasn't healed, and without the padding she had intended to have Daryl install onto the brace, any fighting she did would only do further damage to her battered limb. Then again, if they didn't make it out of the woods, it wouldn't matter if her injury worsened or not.
Morgan's arm flew into the air, elbow bent upwards and hand in a fist, signally for her to stop. Groaning and shambled steps surrounded them, but in the distance, she could hear an anguished 'neighing.'
"Tha' horse?" Beth dared to whisper.
Morgan nodded.
Beth remained crouched, looking around them and catching glimpses of walkers clumsily staggering towards the sounds of her horse.
"If we can reach it before they do, we can get back faster," Morgan suggested quietly.
"You think its worth 'ah shot?" Beth inquired skeptically.
"I think it's our only shot," Morgan stated firmly, glancing down at her side.
Beth followed the direction of his eyes and noticed that his tan scarf was quickly turning to a shade of crimson. She was beginning to have trouble breathing and she knew it had nothing to do with the amount of running they had been doing. Though the wound didn't hinder her physically, her body still suffered from the effects of her blood loss.
"Where you go…I go," Beth looked up determinedly.
Morgan met her gaze, pressing his lips into a thin line, and held up two fresh bandages, "These are the last ones."
They'd already stopped once to replace her first set of bandages when Morgan saw a tiny spot of red seeping into the material around her waist.
"Let's hope they last," Beth murmured, fumbling with the knot tied tightly over her wound.
"Lemme' see it," Morgan reached out and made quick work of the crude tourniquet.
Beth kept watch while he removed the drenched bandages, quickly covering the seeping wounds, and retying the scarf around her abdomen.
"You stay with me, don't fall more than two paces behind, and don't fight 'em unless you have to," he dictated sternly.
Beth nodded and began following behind him.
They ran alongside the herd, making good progress, until Beth started stumbling. Morgan hadn't seen her initially, but this time, she knew she'd been caught. She's lost so much blood, her vision was beginning to blur, and the thundering in her ears was becoming too loud to hear any other noises around her.
Tugging on the ankle she'd snagged on some foliage, she crashed onto her hands and knees, and felt pressure against her palms. Lifting her hands away from the thorny vines, tiny droplets of blood began sprouting from the seemingly invisible wounds. Strong hands grabbed her biceps and lifted her to her feet.
"Not much further," Morgan tried to sound comforting, but his eyes expressed his distress.
She tried to force her feet to move, but they were heavy and she swayed involuntarily with each step. Morgan, discerning her struggle to walk, draped her arm across his shoulders and began dragging her beside him.
They were moving again and Beth tried to focus on the trees to their right where the herd was located. They had made it roughly five feet when she realized the walkers were no longer interested in the distraught sounds emanating from the animal they were trying to reach and instead had turned their attention onto the both of them.
"Morgan," she hissed.
"I see 'em," he replied curtly.
"I'm slowing you down," she admitted bitterly.
Morgan kept pressing forward.
"They're going to catch us," she stated the obvious.
Morgan tightened his grip and moved through the trees.
"If you let me go, you can make it," she tried again.
Morgan ignored her.
"Damnit Morgan," she cursed.
"I am not leavin' you behind," he glared down at her, "We been in stickier situations than this."
She knew it was a lie.
"We always manage to fight our way through," his chest was heaving and his shirt was damp with perspiration, "Where I go, you go, right?"
Beth felt her lips turning upwards despite their predicament.
"I've never given' up on you and it ain't startin' today," he finished resolutely.
"Stubborn ole' man," Beth muttered under her breath, but she knew he'd heard her from the smirk on his face.
Turning her head in time to see a walker lunge at them, Beth felt a surge of adrenaline flood her system, giving her the strength to shove Morgan forward. The corpse fell to the ground where they had been standing, reaching with its cold, boney fingers out toward them. Morgan removed her arm from his shoulder and made quick work of the undead creature on the ground.
"There's more," Beth hollered as she gracelessly swung her arm and imbedded the blade into the skull of an oncoming corpse as Morgan handled two others.
The walker crumpled to the ground, taking Beth along with it. More monstrosities were coming her way and they seemed to be completely ignoring Morgan a few feet away from her. Glancing down at her side, she understood their attraction to her straightaway; her gunshot wound.
"Beth," Morgan's voice sounded higher in his panicked state.
Yanking with more force, Beth pulled her blade free and fell backwards from the momentum.
"They can smell it," Beth yelled, shoving her machete upwards through decayed nasal cavity of a walker looming over her, "They can smell my blood."
Morgan quickly closed the distance between them, standing beside her protectively, "We've gotta' run for it."
"You know I won't make it," she got to her feet and darted her eyes over the dozen or so walkers intent on devouring her.
"Stay behind me," Morgan moved in front of her, "I'll take care of 'em."
"There's too many for you by yourself!" She hollered as Morgan stepped forward.
He finished the first walker in a single swipe of his sword. The next corpse took them both by surprise as it moved quicker than any walker they'd come across. The skin of its face looked as if it had been dead for years, but it still had too much meat on its bones and was far too agile to be dead more than a few hours. She tracked its movement and each time Morgan swung, it stepped back out of range. Creeping around behind them, Beth tried to get into a position where she could help, but froze when she heard it.
Whispers.
She wasn't sure if she was hallucinating from blood loss or the walkers were actually whispering. Focusing all of her attention on what they were chanting, she couldn't quite make out the words at first. However, soon the sounds were no longer chaotic jargon and became a coherent phrase. Her blood ran cold as the words were reiterated over and over again.
"Morgan," Beth hissed, "Morgan! That's 'ah…"
Morgan swung again, quicker this time, and sliced the walker across the forehead. A thin layer of decayed skin flew away to reveal…another forehead. The skin of this one was smooth, young, and belonged to someone who was still very much alive. Red blood splattered across the trunks of the trees and Morgan looked down at his blade.
"Christ," his eyes widened and flew over to Beth.
"We have to run!" She screamed.
It didn't matter if she knew she wouldn't make it far. If they were amongst the horde, she and Morgan wouldn't stand a chance anyway. They had to at least try to get away.
"Behind you!" Morgan hollered back.
Beth didn't have time to turn around before she was shoved to the ground. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her face to the side just as it made contact with the cool dirt and her breath was forced from her lungs upon impact. She could hear death moaning in her ear and knew her fight was over. She waited for the bite, but it never came. A split second later, the weight was off of her and she opened her eyes to see Morgan standing next to her.
"Ya' alright?" He asked, breathing hard and face twisted in an expression she didn't understand.
"Yeah," she breathed and pushed herself off the ground, "'M fine."
Then she saw the red staining his sleeve, the way he was cradling his arm, and the world gave way under her feet.
"No…no, no, no, no, no," she hovered over his forearm.
"We gotta' move Beth," he insisted, his voice strained while he tried to hide the extent of his wound from her eyes.
"You were bit," she barely whispered, completely ignoring the danger they were still in, "Morgan…you were bit!"
Grabbing her wrist with the hand of his uninjured arm, he pulled her behind him.
Beth was on autopilot. She could feel her feet moving, but had no recollection of commanding them to do so. All she could see was the hole that had been gouged out of Morgan's arm. Blood was still pouring from his wound, even more so than when she'd been shot, and she knew he would bleed out before they got to safety if they didn't do something. The fog of despair quickly faded and with a new sense of clarity, she yanked her arm free of Morgan's hold.
She didn't wait for him to catch up with her plan as she quickly untied the knot around her waist and removed the blood soaked bandages. Throwing them as far as she could, hoping the scent would mask that of Morgan's wound and provide some sort of distraction, she turned back to him and began using the scarf to make a tourniquet around his upper arm. It wouldn't stop the bleeding, but it would hopefully slow it down enough that she could get them to the horse. When she finished tying the knot, she scurried up to the nearest walker and swiftly ended it. She then grabbed the twice dead body, her fingers sinking into the decomposed flesh, and held securely around both the radius and ulna in each of its arms. As she dragged the body over to Morgan, one of its legs caught on an upturned root and was torn away from its pelvis. Plopping it on the ground in front of her injured companion, she knelt down and sliced open its stomach.
"Cover yourself," she ordered, moving to stand guard and allow him the time he needed to camouflage his body.
Morgan collapsed to his knees and she knew she'd have to help him stand back up.
She kept her head on a swivel and waited for Morgan to finish. Hearing a shuffling behind her, assuming he was done, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had fallen onto his side. His eyes were glassy and his breathing was coming out his shallow puffs.
"No," she seethed and rushed to his side, "Morgan…Morgan you gotta' stay with me."
"Leave me be," he whispered.
"I am not leavin' you," she ground out, shoving her hands in into the abdominal cavity of the corpse and finishing the job she'd instructed him to do.
When Morgan was covered beyond what was probably necessary, she made quick work to mask her own scent.
Morgan's eyes were closed when she finished, the rise and fall of his chest the only indication he was still alive, and she knew she was losing him.
"Morgan," she patted his cheek, "Morgan, get up."
His eyes fluttered open, but he didn't move.
"Morgan!" She sneered, "Get up."
"Go Beth. I'm done," he breathed, "Just…go…"
Beth stood and grabbed his uninjured arm. Pulling him into a sitting position, his head lolling every time she moved him, she wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tried to stand.
"Where you go, I go," she groaned from exertion, "You've never given up on me. Not once. I'll be damned if I give up on you."
Morgan's eyes opened languidly.
"We've been in stickier situations than this, right?" She repeated his lie.
Morgan let out a strangled laugh, "Stubborn girl."
"I learned from tha' best," she retorted, helping him stand, "Now move your feet."
They began moving, Beth having to hold both of their weight, but there was no way she was ever going to leave him behind. They were family. All they had was each other. She wasn't willing to let that go.
…
She could have cried when she finally saw her horse. It would have been tears of joy if not for the walker feasting on its front, right leg.
"Damnit," she cursed.
The horse reared back and its hoof struck the walker on the shoulder, knocking it to the ground. From the looks for corpses lying, unmoving, around it, this had been the first of many it had managed to trample.
Sitting Morgan against a tree and unstrapping her machete from her arm, hooking it back on her bandolier, she cautiously approached the animal.
"Hey there," she tried to sound soothing as the horse reared back in its hind legs once more, "It's okay…it's okay."
Reaching a hand out, the horse stomped its hooves on the ground, snorting through its nostrils. Its tail swished from side to side and it was clear the animal was agitated.
"I'm here to help," she spoke softly as her hand came in contact with the soft, warm flesh of its muzzle.
Stroking it gently, she reached around to pat its neck and the horse nuzzled its head into her shoulder.
"I'm just gonna' get you loose, alright?" She offered, reaching for the reigns that had gotten stuck in the branches of the tree that had kept it from escaping the woods.
When she had untangled the reigns, she led it away from the tree, noticing the significant limp in its gait. The groans of the herd were growing louder and it would only be a few minutes before they were immersed in walkers once more.
Working quickly she removed the saddlebags, sleeping bag, and saddle from the horse. Digging in her bags, she found the lighter and pulled her shirt aside. Rolling her thumb over the wheel a few times, she finally managed to produce a flame. Reaching for the knife Daryl had given her, she held the blade over the flame until she was sure it was hot enough to accomplish what she needed. This was one of those moments, as blade melted the skin around her wound, leaving behind an angry, black mark where her bullet wound had once been, that she was thankful she couldn't feel the pain that was undoubtedly present. Returning the blade to the flame, she performed the task on the exit wound.
She could see the herd now, hear their groaning, but she still hadn't taken care of Morgan. She had to attend to his arm or she would end up losing him to blood loss, or worse, the virus. She knew what she needed to do, but the screams he would undisputedly make would attract the undead. She then glanced at the horse, favoring one of its legs, and discerned that the animal would never make it back. She didn't know how the virus affected animals, or if it did at all, but she knew putting it out of its misery would be a swifter death than if the walkers got ahold of it and ate it alive.
"I'll be right back," she whispered to Morgan, who was barely conscious against the tree.
Leading the horse away, walking at a slow pace, she tugged the reigns towards the ground. Coaxing the animal to lie down took a few moments, but when it had finally settled against the dirt, she detached her machete and slid her arm into the brace. Glancing back to make sure Morgan was still safe, she took a deep breath.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered down to the animal, staring at her with large, trusting eyes, "but I'm doin' you 'ah favor."
Pressing her blade against the horse's jugular vein, she neatly sliced through its skin. The animal flailed for a moment, releasing a noise that shattered her heart as she soothed it with a soft 'thank you' and tender strokes. When it stopped breathing, she copied Morgan, slicing open its stomach and cleaned the blade as best she could against its fur. She then raced back to her companion, still leaning against the tree.
Pulling him away from the trunk, mindful of the weapon attached to her arm, she laid him flat on his back and extended his wounded appendage away from his body. Checking to make sure the tourniquet was still tight, she closed her eyes.
"You can do this Beth," she told herself, "You have to do this."
Opening her eyes, determination and adrenaline flooding her system, she grasped the brace of her machete with her other hand and raised it above her head. She had to do this in one go, for Morgan's sake as much as her own. Looking over her shoulder, seeing the dead feasting on the remains of her horse, Beth clenched her jaw. A few of the corpses were standing too straight, watching her, and she knew they were different from the rest of the herd.
"Stay with me," she whispered, turning her attention back to Morgan, "I'll get us outta' this if you just stay with me."
And then she swung.
…
She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking, dragging Morgan in her makeshift stretcher, but she could feel herself getting close to their destination. The trees were beginning to thin out and the sun was shining brighter, signally it was well into the afternoon.
She was exhausted, her eyes kept blurring, and she wasn't sure how much longer her body would continue to cooperate with her. She'd never lasted this long without malfunctioning before, but it didn't matter. If she fell, she would get back up and keep going as soon as her body would let her.
Adjusting the rope digging into her shoulder that she'd used to wrap around Morgan's torso as she dragged him behind her in her sleeping bag, Beth was never more relived to see the walls of Alexandria come into view.
"We made it," she cried to Morgan's unconscious form, "Morgan…we made it."
She heard her name being called while stumbling over a clump of dead grass and tried to concentrate who was approaching them. She then heard other voices and made out the unclear image of a man running through the clearing, shouting her name once more. She had to duck her head for a moment, the rays of the sun too much for her sensitive eyes, but she forced herself to shout a reply.
"Daryl?" Her voice broke as she said his name.
She blinked several times, before looking back up at him, a smile threatening to erupt on her lips. Never in her life, or what she'd experienced thus far, had she been happier to see another human being.
"What happened?" He yelled, quickly closing the distance between them.
Tears of relief spilled from her eyes and she finally let her body give out, flinging herself into his arms as he caught her easily. She could feel his cool hands brushing away the matted hair from her face and she breathed in his scent; pine and oil.
"Herds…comin'," she murmured as she closed her eyes, "Stay out of…tha' woods. People…"
She couldn't hold on any longer. She'd used every ounce of strength she had to get them back. They weren't in one piece, but they were alive…for the moment at least. Morgan was strong, the strongest man she knew, and if he didn't pull through this…she wasn't sure she could survive losing him. However, the safety she felt from Daryl's strong arms, wrapped around her protectively, was enough for her to give into her exhaustion. She took another deep, calming breath and let sleep claim her.
They'd made it home.
…
A/N: So I don't usually write 'what happened' chapters and leave the mystery to be discovered as the characters reveal them in the story, but I felt Morgan deserved a bit of the spotlight and the events that happened while they were out is pretty important for understanding the next chapter.
The estate that Beth refers to at the beginning of the chapter is straight out of the show. About eleven minutes into episode 5x09 you see Glenn looking through the bushes for snipers. There's a stone entrance sign that says Shirewilt Estates when they're taking Noah home.
Just FYI, if one (or more) of a horse's leg is injure with enough severity, the horse is put down. Horses need all four legs. Favoring one causes irreparable damage to the other three and minor leg injuries can take up to a year to fully heal. In such cases, horses with severe leg injuries are put down as its more humane then letting them suffer. Horses are resilient creatures, but even they have an Achilles heel.
I've got a funny story…kind of. I'm not sure if I should be disturbed by this or thinks it's really cool, but I was SO proud of myself for coming up with my own original 'bad guys.' I had told people I'd made my own 'animals' in reviews responses, created a backstory, a name, and everything! Then, as I was doing research, and emailing a fellow author (Sarakaroline8), I find out that Robert Kirkman has introduced a very similar 'baddie' in the recent chapters of his comics! I was SOOOOO bummed. So for all of you I told that I had created my own bad guys…I did, but I'm just going blend the two and keep my twists. I'm not going to elaborate on anything yet because more will be revealed about these guys in the next chapter, but I've dropped some major hints as to what they're about if you caught them!