Sixteen years later
Judith sat on the porch swing of their house, rocking back and forth, as dusk set in.
Her younger brother Lucas was perched on the front steps, crafting arrows from sticks, a trick he had learned from their Uncle Daryl.
Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol had a tendency to spoil her and her brothers since they had no kids of their own.
A cure to stave off triggering the walking dead syndrome had been discovered and mass released through military-style air drops when she was 8 years old. Order in the immediate area had been somewhat restored with the help of her dad, mom and older brother.
They had settled in the county her dad had been a sheriff's deputy in when the outbreak first happened.
A memorial had been established at the local cemetery and honored all those they had loved and lost including her birth mother.
Carl and his wife Beth had decided to stick around and lived up the road from them. Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol had also stayed close by, operating a mechanic shop, and Beth's sister Maggie and her husband Glenn worked in the local hospital.
Aunt Carol frequently babysat Hershel's five grandchildren including her late daughter's namesake. When she wasn't in school, Judith always volunteered to cart around her little nieces Sophia and Amy.
Kahlan appeared at the screen door.
"Time for dinner," she said. Judith looked at her mom and then Lucas. He had her auburn hair but Dad's eyes. He too had been an apocalyptic baby, arriving four years after her.
Judith sighed and smiled as her dad made his way to the porch. The years and the strain had aged him immensely yet he seemed happier now than he'd ever been when she was a child.
Rick embraced Kahlan before motioning to Judith and Lucas.
"Come on kids. I think your mom said it's time for dinner," he said, ruffling his son's hair.
Judith jumped out of the porch swing and followed them inside.