Disclaimer: Copyright for The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.

Title: "Inventio"
Chapter: "5. Blades"

Carl had taken the blades out to the catwalk and propped himself with his back against one of the tables. Daryl had shown him how to properly sharpen and clean them, and tasked him with making sure every single one was perfect by the time he returned from hunting. Carl had decided to take them outside even though the heat was terrible because the light was better. Up on the breezeway the air moved better than in the yard and the reinforcements did provide some shade. He'd laid the various implements out on a towel before him, and had prepared the whet stone with just a few drops of the precious supply of mineral oil like Daryl had shown him. Too much and the strokes would be useless. Too little and the edge would be ground to shit. He also had a handful of clean rags he'd prepped from newly discarded shirts that had been deemed too destroyed for any more mending. They recycled everything now.

He had just taken up the smallest of the spare hunting knives to get started when he heard the dock door sliding up. As he turned toward it his dad was standing up from his crouch and pushing it closed again. Carl hoped his dad hadn't come up just to tell him to do the job inside. He was safely behind the blockade. No scout would be able to take any shots at him. Hell, in this heat those Woodbury pricks were probably back at home drinking lemonade and enjoying air conditioning, if what Michonne said was true. Carl started the first stroke of the knife on the stone.

Rick closed the distance and crouched next to him, resting on his heels. He threaded the fingers of his left hand in the fence above Carl's head to balance himself and swiped his forehead with the other forearm. He didn't say anything as he took in the tools before Carl and watched his son pull the knife carefully across the sharpening stone. "Got water to guard against this heat?"

Carl paused and lifted his elbow, revealing a bottle of water tucked in close to his side. Did his dad think he was stupid? Rick nodded and looked through the fence past his hand and out to the field where the walkers roamed aimlessly. He fidgeted right wrist, causing the watch that hung there to spin as he rested the forearm on his knee.

"So have you heard about this run Carol is planning to make?"

"A little. Something about books?"

"S'right. I talked with her about it this morning. She's got a good plan."

Carl flipped the knife and began on the other side. He didn't really see the reason for risking a run to get books. Couldn't eat books. Couldn't put down a walker with books. Wouldn't be able to blow up the damn Governor with books.

"She wants you to go with her and Michonne."

Carl looked up, surprised. Rick was still gazing out across the field. "What? Why?" The questions were out before he realized it. He wasn't happy about that. He had been glad that his dad had recognized that he could do his part for the group by taking him to Cynthia. If he complained about this it might set him back. He tried again, quickly. "I mean, are you sure we should be leaving now? Daryl isn't back yet."

"He should be tomorrow. Her plan is solid. She requested you especially."

Carl tried not to react to that. He put down the stone and took up one of the clean rags to wipe the finished knife.

"Any particular reason?" He hoped it sounded uninterested and he didn't look up. He thought it was how Daryl might have asked.

He could see that his dad had finally turned back and so he looked over at him. "She says you don't waste ammunition and you are a good shot. She says you are the best look out of all of us, and that's why she asked for you."

Carl couldn't help himself. He could feel his ears heating up at the praise. She had really said those things? He wasn't able to hold his smile back. "Hhn."

Rick didn't even pretend. He grinned widely. "I was proud to hear her talk about you like that." He sobered quickly though. "But, I'm not thrilled about sending you out there." Carl started to protest, and Rick held up his free hand to stop him. "I know. You proved yourself. I've already told her that if you're willing I'm sending the three of you."

Carl opened his mouth to say "yes" immediately, but stopped himself. He needed to be mature about this. He placed the finished knife back in its position and took up the whetstone and the mineral oil to prepare it again. Once he'd put the oil back down, he spoke. "I'm glad to do it. Should I check in with her?"

Rick cleared his throat. "I think that would be appropriate. Are you planning to finish all these today?"

"Daryl told me he expected them done before he got back."

"Why do we need sharp blades to kill walkers?"

"He said that dull blades don't pull free as easy. Sharper blades mean faster retrieval time."

"S'pose that's true."

Carl picked up the small knife he'd just finished and held it out to Rick. "Why don't you leave me yours and take this one? You can exchange it again after I'm done."

Rick raised his eyebrows, but took the knife by its proffered handle. He unsheathed his own blade and passed it to Carl, stowing the newly sharpened one in its place. "Thanks, Carl. Good planning. Don't wait too long to talk with Carol. She may have something special she needs from you. Take her instructions about what to pack."

"Yes sir. Could you maybe let the others know I'm sharpening? Maybe they could change out, too?"

"I will, son."

"Thanks."

Rick rose and moved back toward the door. Carl positioned his father's blade and started the careful process. He could feel his dad watching him. It felt heavy, like the beating of the sun in the stifling Georgian afternoon.

"Carl?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep them safe."

"I will."

He didn't look up from his work as his dad made his way inside again. Holy crap! Carol had requested him! Part of him wanted to go brag to Beth and part of him was completely freaked out. It was one thing being out there with his dad and Michonne, but this was Carol. First of all, Carol was great at a lot of things, and he'd see her kill walkers even, but she wasn't his dad. Second of all, if anything happened to her, he was pretty sure Daryl would kill him, and not metaphorically. Daryl would grab him by the neck and beat him into a pile of ground meat. Third of all, his dad had just told him to keep them safe. Were two grown women going to listen to him if he needed them to? How was he going to keep them safe if they wouldn't?

Carl finished his dad's knife and wiped it clean. Next up was one of the nightmarish implements from the original "arsenal" Carl had found back on the highway where they'd lost – he shook his head – back by the Greene farm. He held it up and considered it closely. The thing's sharp edges were strangely placed and angled. He'd have to be both creative and careful. He checked the stone and it was adequately oiled. He might need to apply a bit more before he was done, though. Carl chose an edge and began.

Then there was the fact that Daryl wasn't back yet. Sometimes he got held up when he was out hunting, now that he was venturing farther away to try and ensure safety from Woodbury and to preserve the closer game for winter. The prison would be four defenders down! That was practically half the group and the fences still weren't up again! Those left would include Beth and Judith, the most vulnerable and his most precious people. Carl thought darkly that if anything happened to either of them while Daryl was on watch that the redneck would find himself ground into hamburger. So would his dad.

Carl considered the strange instrument he was sharpening again. Who the hell thought up something like this? He could not imagine what practical value it could ever have served, except maybe to scare the person it was being used against to death before it struck them. Given how many sharp edges it had, it was likely to be more dangerous to the wielder than an enemy. A stray swipe could easily open up a person's leg as it whipped past. There was an oddly placed hook and a strange hole near the middle of the thing. Carl closed his left eye and peered through the hole with his right. Maybe it was some kind of sighting?

As Carl looked the back gates opened and the Tucson drove out from the back. Michonne came around and closed the doors, then jogged alongside the vehicle. Carl laid the "horror hook" down, and shifted around to see what was up. It looked like Glenn was driving. They wouldn't be going out for a run, not if his group was going tomorrow. Michonne got the attention of the walkers who were immediately in front of the fence gate, drawing them away. Once they were moved, Glenn popped out and undid the lock as Michonne beat it back to the car. Glenn pulled through and was out again to cover as Michonne secured the gate behind them. The biter crop had been fairly thin just then, so they only had to drop three before they could slip back into the car and continue down the drive. They only went as far as the outer gate, however, before maneuvering next to the overturned bus, and stopping.

They backed up slowly along the ruined fencing as the walkers in the field gained interest and began a shuffling convergence towards them. Suddenly the two were out their doors and Michonne's katana was drawn. She took a running start and neatly took down the two closest walkers who were well ahead of the rest, and was quickly back to the car and Glenn. Carl couldn't make out what Glenn was doing because he was bent and concealed behind the bulk of the Hyundai. Carl did see the wrecked fencing shake and shudder several times, and he heard a faint yell from Michonne as the next closest walkers came into range. But Glenn's head was up again, and then they were in the car and it was tearing back up the drive to the gate and into safety.

Carl kept an eye out in case they needed any cover, but they made it back in without incident. He turned back to his project. He wiped the horror hook clean and set it aside. He opened his water and took a deep drink before setting it aside once more and wiping his brow beneath his hatband.

Next up was a machete, then his own knife, what looked to be a simple butcher's knife with a modified handle, a skinning blade, two worn Bowies, and something that was probably meant to be a decorative dagger but had been drafted into actual service. Once those were all finished he'd return his dad's and go about collecting from the group. Oh! He couldn't forget to check in with Carol. Then he'd go to Beth for her KA-BAR, and tell her about the trip. He hoped she'd be impressed, and maybe a little worried about him. He smiled to himself at that, and picked up the whet stone to prep it again with the mineral oil.