It took Hershel a long time to tend to everyone's wounds. Everyone had a few cuts and bruises, but the worst were Daryl's leg wound, Rick's bullet wound, Martinez's broken ankle, and Glenn's sprained wrist.
I was stitching a cut along Merle's temple when Hershel finally approached me, a concerned look on his face. He motioned for me to follow, so after quickly finishing my task, I followed him through the prison, up, to the perch that was once Daryl's sleeping spot of choice.
"How bad off is it?" I asked, referring to our more injured allies.
"Rick's going to be fine, as is Martinez and Glenn," he said slowly. I noticed the way his gaze shifted at my question.
"And Daryl?" I pushed.
"He's lost a lot of blood," he said slowly. "More than his body can safely replace."
"We have to set up a transfusion then," I nodded.
"We don't know his blood type," Hershel pointed out.
"I know mine. I'm O neg, I'm a universal donor," I said quickly.
"You're still anemic from your own injuries prior to the attack," he said glumly.
"Ta hell with that," I snorted. "I can spare a pint or two," I chuckled.
"Harleigh, it's risky," he argued.
"Risks be damned," I growled. "Hershel, stick the damn line in so we can get this over with and I can go back to stitching people back together."
He saw the determination in my eyes and nodded for me to follow him. I followed him into the cell that was currently serving as the infirmary, since no one was too willing to leave our block. Rick was perched on the top bunk, his face drawn. Against the wall, Martinez was rubbing his broken ankle. On the bottom bunk, laid Daryl, who hadn't woken up since the explosion. His face was a sickly shade of white. If I hadn't been watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, I'd have thought he was dead.
Maggie brought over a chair and motioned for me to sit, her face drawn as she washed down my arm.
"You don't have to do this, you know," she said softly. "You don't owe us anything."
"I'm part of this group now," I said stoically. "I owe Daryl my life."
"You don't," she said softly before sticking the needle into my arm. "You're an asset to the group."
I didn't say anything. Instead, I focused on the wall across from my, ignoring the pulsating feeling rushing through my arm as blood collected in the bag in Maggie's hands. I took deep, even breaths, constantly reminding myself that if I passed out, Hershel would just scold me for not listening.
I heard the familiar sound of claws on concrete, not the least bit surprised when Blade came limping into the cell, his fur matted with blood and god only knows what else. He looked at me for a moment, before letting out a low whine. I glanced at the door, surprised to see three straggly, mangy dogs sitting there, waiting for the signal.
"Blade, you're as bad as Riley was!" I teased, letting my free hand brush against his fur. "Who do we have here?" I motioned the dogs over, not all at surprised that two of the three shrank back. Blade was the same way when he'd first joined my little pack. The smallest, a skinny toy breed of some sort, came right up to me, her long fur matted so badly, I knew it'd take time to finally restore her coat to its original condition. She wagged her tail, licking my fingers happily. Upon seeing the little dog so happy and content, the biggest of the group – next to Blade, who was nearly as high as my thigh – slowly approached, his tale tucked, his ears flat. I noticed he had a spark in his eye very similar to that of Riley when he was a puppy. By the dog's huge paws, I knew he was still a puppy, no more than a few months old. The perfect age to be trained.
The last dog, a knee high shepherd mix, glared at me as if I was nothing more than the dirt on the ground. Her teeth were bared, her fur standing on end. Hershel just watched as I motioned the dog over. He seemed to sense that I had a gift I didn't let many people see. Maggie was patting the smaller dog, a smile playing on her lips.
"Did you grow up around dogs?" Hershel asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"I did. My mom always had a dog or two in the house and my uncle often times had a small pack of hunting dogs," I explained. "Always had a way with 'em I guess."
"Just like in Woodbury," Martinez noted. "With Blade and the other one."
"Uh-huh. And they're a perfect weapon," I said softly. "Riley himself was responsible for over 15 kills, not including that of game."
"Exactly," he nodded, knowing what I was talking about. "You have a way with molding 'em into little hell raisers."
"Hey, someone's gotta look out for 'em. 'Sides, if worse comes worst, it's meat," I shrugged. I glanced down at the wary pup, which looked at me with deep, chocolate eyes. I let my hand fall to his side, my fingers tracing circles in his long fur. I felt the effects of the transfusion slowly taking over, along with exhaustion and just general shock of all that had happened. Maggie stood over me, watching my blood slowly fill the bag.
"How many units do you need?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
"One will be enough for now," Hershel said quickly. "You need to rest afterwards. No goin' off playin' hero."
"Ain't got any energy left to play hero," I mumbled. A sudden thought brought a smile to my lips. "You know what I want?"
"What?" Maggie asked, eyeing my carefully.
"I want chocolate. Like a huge, sugary, dark chocolate cake," I beamed.
"Ass!" Rick chuckled from the top bunk. I looked up at him, grinning crazily.
"Hey, we didn't lose anyone today, that's almost as good as chocolate," I commented.
"You almost did," Martinez said darkly.
"Way to kill the mood," I shot back. I glared at him for a moment before we both shared a smile. Despite the attack, we had all made it out alive. And we gained a good fighter in the process.
"Hershel, do me a favor," I said softly, looking at the old vet.
"What?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Tell the others to relax for a while. Not relax relax, but relax enough to recover. We've got a lot of work to do in the mornin', and it'd be a lot easier to do it without everyone bein' wired and trigger happy," I said with a yawn. "It's been a long day. After this is done, I'll take the first watch."
"Michonne's already up there. Said she wanted to take the first watch," Glenn said as he came into the cell carrying my bag, along with a bowl of water for the dogs. "I'm taking over in an hour or two, then Carl and Merle."
"Y'all got it all worked out then," I nodded. "Good."
"You rest now," Maggie instructed, pulling the needle from my arm. "Like you said, tomorrow's a longer day."
"Uh-huh. Wake me up if there's any news," I said, shifting in the chair. I propped my legs up on the bed, getting as comfortable as possible. My hand reached for Daryl's, my heart breaking at how cold his skin was. I prayed to whoever was listening that he'd make a full recovery, and soon.
I was either still in shock or just so worn out that soon, I was oblivious to everything and everyone. For the first time in a long time, I felt nothing. Not worry, not fear, not anger. I didn't feel a damn thing, and that in itself, was enough.