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starstwinkleplanetsshine · 6 months ago

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Daughter of the Sea

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Hold Fast (Read on Ao3 here)

I wandered around for a while, trying to make any sense of the conversation I had just had. But the more I thought about what Hestia had said, the more confused I felt. And the more angry I got. I had spent the last few weeks coming up with every possible way to take Percy’s place, made peace with the fact that dying was worth it if it meant I was saving him. But now I wasn’t sure.

In a way, hearing from Hestia affected me more than hearing from my father would have. I knew Poseidon had been watching over me my whole life, but it was Hestia who was protecting me day in and day out. It was Hestia who took up residence in the fireplace of our home and kept vigilant watch on me. Out of all the gods, she knew me the best. And hearing her say words I knew were true but I didn’t want to hear put me in a sour mood.

I eventually found myself on the archery range. It was empty, which was extremely odd. I had never seen it so quiet—Apollo had a lot of kids, and they were all talented archers. You could always count on someone practicing their gifts while the sun was still shining.

But not today. I guessed that a lot of the campers wanted to go back to their cabins or do something to take their mind off the funeral. I didn’t blame them.

I pulled out the throwing knives I always kept on my belt—four beautiful bronze blades with golden hilts that glinted in the light.

They had shown up on my doorstep last November with my name on the package, and Percy had been extremely jealous. I reminded him that he didn’t use throwing knives, but that didn’t seem to change his mind. The only thing accompanying the gift was a small piece of pristine white paper, no bigger than a business card, with a beautiful, golden and shimmering symbol of the sun on it, almost like the one in Tangled. I looked down the empty hallway, shrugged, and picked up the package. I waited a few days before opening them, just to make sure it wasn't some sort of trap, and found that they were perfectly balanced and fit in my hand exactly. I still hadn’t found out who sent them, but I had an inkling of an idea.

I still wasn’t fantastic at throwing knives—Percy and I were notoriously bad at ranged weapons—but I had gotten a lot better in the last year. I usually hit the target, and one out of every fifty or so times I would hit the bullseye. I considered that an impressive improvement.

Cady had insisted I train in the weapon in case my sword ever got knocked out of my hand, she said a demigod should never be caught defenseless. I didn’t need to worry about losing my weapon anymore, thanks to the gift from my dad, and even without a sword I had learned to wield my abilities enough to always be able to defend myself, but what started practical soon turned comforting. I usually gave up on anything that I wasn’t immediately good at, but I had decided to stick with this one, and it was nice to see my hard work was starting to pay off. It felt good to have something to work at, something I had to struggle in. Something I could see improvement in—it gave me a sense of control over my life. Which, as a demigod, didn’t come often.

I had just loosed my first knife when a rustling in the grass behind me made me whip around.

“Juniper!” I called when I saw the elfish face. “You’re lucky I didn't have that knife in my hand anymore.”

“I know!” she squeaked. “I’m sorry, Angie.” She stood up from where she was crouched in the grass. “I shouldn’t have been sneaking, but I need to talk to you.”

I gave her a curious look. Now that she was closer, I could see her eyes were tinged green—chlorophyll from crying, I told myself.

“Is this about Grover?” I tried to keep my voice gentle, but she let out a small sob at the mention of her boyfriend’s name.

“The naiads told me that you were going through Chiron’s reports this morning and there was a report from a protector in Canada and he mentioned Grover in it.” Her words came rushing out, getting closer to hyperventilating by the second.

No secrets here, I thought. Those naiads are the worst gossips.

“I did see a report, yes. It was talking about how—”

“Can you come with me, Angie?! I can’t be away from my tree for too long.” Even though she asked me a question, she didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed my wrist and started dragging me towards the woods, and I gave up any hope I had of retrieving the golden knife stuck in the target.

She didn’t stop running until we had come to a small clearing near her tree. I could see Zeus’ Fist standing tall in the middle of it and the sight sent a shiver up my spine. It had been a full year since the Battle, a full year of tension and loss and war. The clearing was a reminder of my first few weeks at camp, and a reminder of how far I had come. But it was also a reminder of my failures.

“Now, what were you going to say about Grover?!” Juniper looked so hopeful, I didn’t know how to break the news to her.

“Well, the letter didn’t exactly say anything about him.”

“What?”

“It was from a protector, Gleeson Hedge, I think, asking for Grover’s help. It was addressed to him. I don’t know why it ended up here.”

“But—” Juniper looked like she was about to cry again when a voice startled both of us.

“Ah ha!” I turned to see an old, fat satyr waddling towards us with surprising speed. He had a smug look on his goatish face. “It is obvious he has run away from his duties, abandoned us all. Trust me, nymph, you are better without that traitor.”

Juniper’s green skin took on a red hue, and I wondered what it would look like for a tree nymph to fly off the handle. I didn’t know Grover well, I had only spent a little time with him last summer, but I knew he was Percy’s best friend. I knew he was brave, and funny, and was there for my brother when no one else was. In short, I knew I wasn’t going to put up with this old goat talking about him like that.

“That’s not true, umm, whoever you are.” I snapped at him.

“Whoever I am?!” He sounded utterly offended. “And just who are you?”

“This is Angie Jackson!” Juniper announced proudly. “Percy’s sister.”

The satyr’s nose crinkled. “Of course I should’ve guessed by her impertinence.”

If I knew what that word meant I was sure I would’ve been offended.

“Nice to meet you…”

“Leneus! Lord of the Wild and Member of the Council of Cloven Elders!”

I only caught about half of what he said.

“Oh, alright. Sounds important.”

He let out an aggrieved huff and stuck his nose in the air. “It is important, thank you—”

His sentence was cut off by a small boy in black jeans and an aviator's jacket appearing out of nowhere. Leneus let out a scream.

“Whoa, am I interrupting?” The pale boy looked more tired than I had ever seen him, and the sight of him made my stomach drop. On one hand I was glad that the conversation with the angry satyr had come to an end, but on the other, I knew what him being here meant. I knew what was about to begin.

“Hey, Nico.”

He gave me a small smile. “Hi, Angie. Nice to see you again. Know where Percy is?”

I had gotten used to that question in the last year. “No, sorry.”

“Will someone explain to me what's going on?” the satyr asked in the most annoying voice possible. Juniper ran and hid behind her tree.

“Sorry, there’s usually no one here.” Nico said in a sheepish voice. “I came to see Percy.”

The satyr let out a huff and rolled his eyes. “I have heard far too much about that upstart today.”

I was about to tell the old goat off when a large hellhound came bounding through the trees and barrelling into the clearing. I reached for my necklace instinctively and was about to pull on it when I saw the glimmering collar around her neck. My hand relaxed as Mrs. O’Leary ran up to Nico and began to lick his face excitedly—which is quite the sight when the dog's tongue is almost as big as the boy. The son of Hades broke into a wide smile, but Leneus and Juniper weren’t as pleased.

I was too busy laughing at the sight to see the boy jogging behind the hellhound, but when Nico perked up and nodded to someone behind me, I spun around. My heart beat a little faster when I saw who it was. He cracked a smile when he saw me, but his expression was immediately replaced with confusion. I understood why—he was walking into a strange quartet.

"Will someone—what is this underworld creature doing in my forest!" Leneus began shouting, waving his arms and trotting on his hooves as if the grass were hot. "You there, Percy Jackson! Is this your beast?"

"Sorry, Leneus," Percy said. I swore I could hear the faintest hint of laughter in his words. "That's your name, right?"

The satyr rolled his eyes. "Well, of course I'm Leneus. Don't tell me you've forgotten a member of the Council so quickly. Now, call off your beast!"

Mrs. O’Leary let out another bark, shaking the ground a bit. Nico had found a tickle spot right behind her ear.

The old satyr gulped. "Make it go away! Juniper, I will not help you under these circumstances!"

Juniper turned toward my brother. "Percy," she sniffled. "I was just asking about Grover. I know something's happened. He wouldn't stay gone this long if he wasn't in trouble. I was hoping that Leneus—"

"I told you!" the satyr protested. "You are better off without that traitor."

Juniper stamped her foot. "He is not a traitor! He's the bravest satyr ever, and I want to know where he is!"

Percy had just opened his mouth, probably in protest, when the hellhound barked again. Leneus’ knees started knocking. "I . . . I won't answer questions with this hellhound sniffing my tail!"

Nico looked like he was trying to not crack up. "We'll walk the dog,” he volunteered, “Won’t we, Angie?" He turned towards me with an expression that told me he wasn’t asking. I pushed away the feeling of cold dread that crept up my spine whenever I was around him.

“Umm, sure!” Percy looked uneasy as he shot me a cautious glance. I nodded at him, and he looked back to Juniper. Percy and I were getting better at communicating without words, twin stuff, I guessed, and I knew what he was trying to tell me—be on your guard. It’s not that we didn’t trust Nico…but as children of Poseidon, we had to be a little more careful around the other kids of the Big Three. Especially since Hades didn’t like Percy all that much.

He whistled, and Mrs. O’Leary took off like a shot to the other end of the grove. Nico raced after her, and I took that as my cue to follow.

When we finally caught up to the hellhound, she was sniffing around some boulders the way she did when she was about to, uh, relieve herself, so Nico and I gave her plenty of space.

“You’re nervous about what comes next.” Nico spoke, his voice grim. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s the only way, Angie. The only way Percy has a chance against Luke.”

I knew he was right. But that didn’t stop me from hoping. “What if there is another way? Maybe there’s something that I can do—”

“Angie, how many times do we have to go over this?”

I snapped my head towards him, desperation filling my eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me the same thing! But I won’t give up on him! Not until—” my voice broke and I took in a sharp breath. “Not until I can’t fight anymore.”

Nico’s eyes softened, and he looked more sad than usual. Which was saying something. “I understand wanting to hold on to him. Trust me, I do. but you have to let go. You have to believe when people tell you this is his fight. The things that are coming…” he got a faraway look in his eye, like he was looking through me into a scary future. “We’ll need you.” He focused on me again.

Nico was always saying strange things. Being a child of the underworld, he spent most of his time underground, talking to ghosts. And ghosts could see more than livings could, sometimes even into the future. Nico always knew more than other demigods, but he had learned quickly that most of the time, those things were for him alone. It was almost impossible to get information out of him.

“Everyone keeps saying that, too. But it doesn’t make me feel better.”

Nico cracked a small smile, and I noticed the way it made his dark eyes shine. When he didn’t have a permanent scowl on his face, he actually looked pretty kind. “I know. But give it time—sometimes the only way to understand something is by going through it.”

I considered the small boy, and decided he was much too wise for a twelve year old.

Mrs. O’Leary, finished with her business, bounded up to us and nearly knocked me over. We pet her for a little bit before Nico turned his head in a curious way before announcing, “Let’s head back.”

I didn’t question him.

We reached the clearing in time to hear my brother say, “I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs."

"Good job, Percy.” Nico said as he walked up to him and Juniper. “Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well."

Percy gave him a weak smile, and I could tell he knew why the son of hades had come calling. "Welcome back. Did you come by just to see Juniper?"

Nico blushed. "Um, no. That was an accident. I kind of…dropped into the middle of their conversation."

"He scared us to death!" Juniper said. "Right out of the shadows. I heard that Angie got a note about Grover when she was going through Chiron’s reports, but it didn’t say anything helpful.” She sounded so dejected, but immediately perked back up. “But, Nico, you are the son of Hades and all. Are you sure you haven't heard anything about Grover?"

Nico shifted his weight. "Juniper, like I tried to tell you…even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls."

"But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?"

Nico's cheeks got even brighter red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open."

She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress.

Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!"

She went poof into green mist. Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered off to find another target, leaving Nico, me, and Percy alone. The atmosphere immediately shifted into something tense and dark. My brother turned to face me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I think I need to talk to Nico alone for a bit. Stay here?”

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. “Yeah, okay. Just…just don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

His eyes got sad. “I won’t.” He ruffled my hair a bit, and this time, I let him. Nico gave me a small smile, his face still a shade of red, before the two boys turned and walked deeper into the woods.

I sat in a small meadow that was on the edge of the clearing we had been standing in, passing the time making and unmaking small flower crowns. Katie Gardener had taught me how to make them, although mine were never as good as hers were. I knew I should be doing something more productive, like practicing my throwing knives, running sword drills, or even working on strengthening my abilities, but I couldn’t make myself do any of that. It all felt too heavy. Just as I was about to get up and walk back into camp, assuming Percy had forgotten about me, he came running back into the clearing.

“Angie?”

I made my way over to him quickly. “Are you leaving?”

I could tell by the look in his eyes that the answer was yes.

“It’s time.” He didn’t have to say more.

I threw my arms around his neck and didn’t try to stop my tears from soaking the shoulder of his orange Tshirt. He held me close, smoothing my hair and whispering some comforting words that I wasn’t paying attention to. Before long, he pulled away. His eyes were red and wet.

“Don’t go.”

I knew it was selfish of me to say. I knew it wasn’t fair. I knew he didn’t want to be anyone’s martyr just as much as I didn’t want him to die. He didn’t ask for any of this—and he didn’t need any more reminders of how close to the end he was.

“I have to, Angie.” Percy sounded exhausted. Now, just the two of us, he let his shoulders slump and there wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face.

“You know It’s the only way to stand a chance against Luke. If he’s invincible, then I have to be, too.” He continued. “We’re no match for the Titan army. You know that. This comes down to me and Kronos.” The words sounded like they were coming from someone else, his eyes faraway and distant. I recognized them as the ones Nico had told him, almost a year ago.

“But it’s not fair!” I sounded like a petulant child, but I didn’t care. “It’s not fair that it has to be you.”

Percy sighed like he was disappointed I was only now figuring this out. “It’s not.” He admitted. “But the life of a demigod isn’t fair. Especially for a child of the Big Three. It’s…it’s just our fate.”

He tried to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, but I flinched away from him.

“But I don’t want to lose you! I can’t lose you! I don’t know how to—” the words caught in my throat, a sob taking their place. I dissolved into tears, and before I knew it, Percy’s arms were around me. I didn’t try to fight him.

“Can I tell you a story?”

It was such a strange thing to say that it caught me completely off guard.

“What?” My voice cracked.

“A story my mom, our mom, told me when I was very small.” He began. “And one I’m sure she would’ve told you. It’s the reason why she named me Perseus in the first place.”

“Because he was a hero?”

Percy chuckled. “That’s what I thought at first, too. But no. Because, against all odds, he is one of the few heroes who managed to find his way to a happy ending.” I thought about that for a moment. His happy ending was living a life with the person he loved, Andromeda. I wished that could be true for Percy and me, but the thought felt too far away to reach.

“When he was a very little boy,” Percy continued, “he and his mother were placed into a wooden chest and cast out into the sea by a very angry king. Alone. Afraid. And at night, his mother would whisper in his ear: ‘Hold fast, Perseus. Brave the storm that was made to break us, for we are unbreakable. As long as we have each other.’”

Percy whispered as he smoothed my hair. My breathing began to steady.

“As long as we have each other.” I echoed. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Percy chuckled, probably remembering the time I forced him to watch all of the Lord of the Rings movies this past year. I had always loved that quote, and after he heard it, it had become our mantra.

“You’re such a nerd.” There was a smile in his voice. A comfortable silence fell over us as we held onto each other, not knowing when either of us would get to hug our sibling again. When he spoke again, his voice was low and gentle, but very sure.

“So…hold fast, Angie. That’s what mom said to me when I first came to Camp, when I was figuring all this out. Hold fast. Brave the storm.”

“Hold fast.” I echoed, wanting the words he was saying to sink into my heart and find a permanent place there.

I had only known Percy for about a year, but in that time, he had become a part of my soul. The thought of losing him tore me apart. Every fiber in my being was screaming at me to hold onto him forever, to never let go. I wanted to beg him to take me with him, plead to take his place.

But I knew it was no use. In that moment, I knew I wasn’t strong enough. But Percy was.

And more than that, I knew Percy would never let me. This was a journey he had to take on his own, and I would just have to find some other time to save him further down the road.

I let go of him and looked into his sparkling eyes, identical to mine.

“You can do this.” I put all the power I had into my words. “I’ve never believed in anyone more than I believe in you.”

He managed a smile. “I’ll see you again.”

“I know you will. We are unbreakable, as long as we have each other.”

I swore I saw tears begin to pool in his eyes, but I didn’t say anything. He pulled me into another hug, tight and quick, before letting go and messing up my hair. And this time, just this once, I let him.

Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness, only stopping to look back once.

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p1nkch3rries · 7 months ago

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♡₊˚ 🦢・𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 (𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

character type: protagonist

hometown: london

gender: female

age: 15

birth date: november 24, 1874

sexual orientation: straight (unknowingly attracted women)

race: half-blood witch, white

height: average, 5'4" (162.56 cm)

eye color: green

hair color: mocha brown

hair type: long, straight

skills: ancient magic, herbology, dueling,

weapons: larch wood with a phoenix feather core, 12 ¾ and unyielding flexibility

treasures: silver pendent necklace gifted by mother, night dancer broom gifted by father

family: florence snapdragon (mother), victor snapdragon (father)

series masterlist ୨୧ spotify playlist ୨୧ ao3 link ୨୧ wattpad link

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i-like-strawberry-lemonade · 2 years ago

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A Day to Remember (Rick Sanchez x ORIGINAL CHARACTER) CH 4- Family Vacation

Hello Everyone! Sorry for the long wait, had to deal with school stuff. Hopefully you guys enjoy this new chapter on my series!

Beth and Jerry were dragging luggage behind them while everyone else followed behind.

Jerry looks at Beth smiling “I can’t believe we are finally going on vacation!”

Beth looks at Jerry back “yeah, just don't tell my dad how I managed it” she said placing her luggage on the floor behind their car “after searching on Facebook and cross-referencing his family stories I managed to find a relative that was willing to have us over”

“Let’s just hope they aren’t a serial killer or something” Jerry said sarcastically

“Jerry!” Beth glared.

Opening their car trunk Jerry starts to load everyone’s luggage. Rick, Morty, and Summer all come out of the house with their stuff. They all watched as Jerry struggles with one luggage bag as it falls onto his foot.

“Ow! My foot!” Jerry cried as he leans down to hold onto his foot

“You know I don’t think everyone is going to fit in one car” Beth said as she helped Jerry put stuff away. “Especially with everyone’s luggage taking up room in the trunk. So I think it’s best we split up, dad- I take it you can drive your car?”

Rick rolled his eyes while sighing, “su-URe Beth sure” he marched his way over to this UFO vehicle. He opens the UFO trunk and throws his luggage inside. Morty runs over to the other side of the UFO car and jumps in after getting the okay from his mom.

“For once I’m too fucking tired to argue with your parents” Rick sighs as he turns on the radio “look the sooner we go the sooner we come back from this shitty ass family vacation”

Everyone else was inside the other vehicle and ready to drive off as Rick followed, heading to their new destination.

As the hours went by, the car ride was slow and quiet, Rick was driving his car over Beth’s and Jerry's car keeping an eye on them from time to time to make sure they didn't get stranded or whatever else might happen. Morty looked over at his grandfather wondering what was going on in his grandfather's mind.

Feeling the boy's eyes on him, Rick looked over at Morty.

“What”

“H-huh?”

“What do you want?”

“W-what do you mean Rick?”

“W-Well you’ve been eyeing me this entire car ride so, what-what do you want?”

It got quiet for a moment and Morty began to talk.

“R-Rick are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“W-Well R-Rick it’s just you’ve been very stress-I mean! Been very tired lately.”

Rick hummed slowly while going over his thoughts, “Im fine Morty” rubbing his hands against the steering wheel.

“A-Are you sure Rick? You can always talk to me for anything” Morty chuckled nervously at his lame attempt to comfort his grandfather.

“Yeah I’m fine- An-ANi-anyways” Rick quickly transitioned the topic, “where are we going? We’ve been driving for hours now and I think your parents are going to need gas soon”

“Oh Mom didn’t tell you? She said we are traveling to your family’s house in Los Angeles. Something about wanting to reconnect?”

Rick relaxed in his chair looking ahead “oh yeah?”

The car ride became quiet again before Rick suddenly jumped forward in a panic and looked at Morty.

“We’re going WHERE?! Rick’s stomach drops as his hands become clammy and slippery, barely holding onto the wheel. His head begins to pulse with pressure causing pain as Rick places one hand on his head, looking at the road as it begins to split.

Morty looks at Rick with concern “R-Rick are you okay?” he asked, raising his hand and placing it on his shoulder. Rick turns to Morty.

Rick pushes through the pain and smacks Morty hand off his shoulder “Im-I-Im fine! Let’s just get this family vacation bullshit over with” as beads of sweat trickle down his forehead.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez x oc #rick x oc #rick and daughter #rick fanfic #beth smith #morty smith #Rick and Morty fanfiction #Rick Sanchez and Female Oc #rick sanchez fanfic #rick and morty imagine #rick sanchez/reader

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zillobeastbait · 1 year ago

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Google Classroom - Daryl Dixon

(and the rest of the walking dead)

Please come and visit! We would love to talk and see you around!

All of my work is collected here, as well as a place for us to talk, for you all to share your work or what your working on, get help, and of course, to talk about whatever we want!

Link: https://classroom.google.com/c/NTI5ODk0MjU4Mzc1?cjc=4o3eotm

Class Code: 4o3eotm

#the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfic #daryl x daughter #fanfiction #jowrites #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #twd #twd rick #twd glenn #twd carl #twd maggie #twd negan #twd fanfiction #twd michonne

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hotpotrandomfics · 1 year ago

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PJO Ciel AU: Stowaway into War Pt. 1

Summary: Ciel has only been aware of his demigod status for less than two years, so he's learned to be more cautious. Though the cries of war thrust him into joining the fight in Manhattan even if he ruffles a few feathers with a fellow stowaway. Will he die in battle or will he survive the horrors to come?

Part 2: PJO Ciel AU: Stowaway of War Pt. 2

Disclaimer: The characters of Justin Colby Peters and Clara Atalanta Ostá are intellectual properties of @mastrmiscellaneous, please follow them for more content on those characters and their creator's brilliant content.

Word Count: 3,345

It was the dumbest idea in his twelve years of life, that of which his father would throttle him upside the back of his head. Laying inside of a duffle bag with little room to move, clutching his bow, and hoped he wasn’t caught.

“THUCK!” His body made as it whacked against the back of the rear seats of the Camp Half Blood van. “Ow…” Ciel murmured before covering his mouth to not give his position away to the campers sitting in anticipation of the coming battle.

“What was that?” One demigod said, scanning around the van.

“What was what?” Another questioned.

“I thought I heard- never mind.” The demigod focused on the road ahead.

Taking a deep though slight breath, Ciel felt the tension release slightly. However, as time progressed the tension, fear, and worry began to bubble in the pit of the stomach. It was as if ice began to creep throughout his body the closer the van got closer to the final destination: the Empire State Building.

An hour and a half later, the vans arrived at the Empire State Building. The doors of the van opened as each of the demigod teams began their short meeting with Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.

As Annabeth gave out orders, the demigods began unloading the van with their equipment, including the bag that Ciel had stored himself in. Being pulled out, by a camper and with a loud thud the boy gave his position away.

“Ow!” Ciel yelled as his body hit the asphalt road. After a brief moment, someone opened the bag and met the gaze of the boy. “Uh, hi!”

“Silverstein?!” Annabeth Chase turned to see the boy with a frown that could petrify him like Medusa. “What in the gods' name are you doing here?!”

“I…” Ciel shimmed out of the bag. Dressed in hiking boots, jeans, a camp shirt, and a military jacket that may or may not have been “acquired” from the camp store, and his armor. A black bow, quiver, and sword were pulled from the duffle by one of the campers. Some could state the obvious but did want to hear what he would say.

Standing up, he looked over the other demigods. Some with glances of annoyance, humorous (mostly the Stoll twins), but a majority irritated of stares made it hard to speak.

“Ciel?” Percy's voice called to him with a stern stance though a calm gaze was enough to acquire a response. Ciel and Percy were not super close, but they had a cordial relationship a mentor and mentee. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to help. To fight…” Ciel gripped his bow firmly as he looked at the rest of the campers. “I can’t just not help! Kronos is on the way, and I-“

“Isn’t your mom against Olympus?” A son of Hephaestus stated with a hint of hate.

They weren’t wrong, Ciel's mother was the goddess of magic, Hecate, and one of the greatest betrayers of the former Titan army. A number of his siblings were claimed during the Battle of the Labyrinth, in which they sided with Kronos and Luke's forces in the hopes of gaining the favor of their mother and recognition. Ciel wasn’t one of them, though just because one could join others who are in the wrong doesn’t mean all should.

How could he not want to have considered the possibility of joining the other side? Having siblings who were willing to switch sides was not something he’d care for because he couldn’t imagine betraying others, especially because he was taught that letting his anger over not receiving prayers and love was worth it. The blood of those who fought and died to the Titan Army. Having a mother’s love? Hecate never stepped in or cared for him for twelve years so why would she change? No, just because he was claimed does not mean she gets to act like he owes her a pegasus fart from him.

“So?” Someone spoke up. Justin Colby Peters, Ciel's best friend for the past year in a half. Cladded in his own attire, faded jeans, a camp hoodie, armor and bow in hand. Never did Ciel feel more thankful than in that moment.

“Ciel is one of our best archers and he doesn’t need permission to do the right thing. Right?”

Some of the demigods grumbled while others nodded at the facts before Annabeth spoke up clearly annoyed.

“Fine. But you’re stuck with the Apollo cabin.” Annabeth said in a stern tone, Ciel nodded in acknowledgment as the rest of the demigods continued clearing the vans of their gear.

“For Olympus' sake!” A hunter pulled out a girl dressed in armor, jeans, a camp shirt, and a dark blue hoodie. “We got another one!”

“Hey, let go!” The girl growled, her eyes a fierce deep blue like the sky at twilight.

“Clara too?!” Percy said as she glanced between her and Ciel. “Are there any more stowaways?”

“Just us, Percy,” Ciel spoke as he walked over to Justin, glancing at Clara before beckoning her to them. “She can help with our assignment.”

“You’ll need me on the battlefield, Jackson,” Clara stated boldly as she cycled her bronze coin through her hand. A statement that couldn’t be argued as Clara is a prodigy in the field of swordsmanship, if he wasn’t mindful of her potential, then Percy would be obliterated during training. This though was not training and there was no chance of a second chance or luck on their side. Clara Atalanta Ostá is someone you could rely on in a pickle and given their limited numbers who could argue?

With little choice in the matter, Percy nodded as the trio smiled. Michael Yew looked at the three before rolling his eyes and taking charge of his cabin and the two stowaways as they made their way to the Williamsburg Bridge.

At the Williamsburg Bridge…

Michael Yew, son of Apollo, began setting up a series of archers between every few cars that sat on the road. In some of the Apollo cabins, the more experienced were in front while Ciel, Justin, and Clara made up the rear guard. The trio went over their gear respectively, ensuring their straps were secure on their armor, counting their munitions, first aid packs, ambrosia, and nectar supplies.

“So… you guys didn’t want to tell me why you hitchhiked all the way to the war zone?” Justin asked as he tested the drawstring of his bow.

“And risked being told no?” Clara countered was she flipped her coin a couple times as she glanced from their position. Scanning for the coming of Kronos forces.

“I could have vouched for you and you could have sat comfortably,” Justin stated a bit irritated given his view of the two. “It’s not like we aren’t close to each other and aren’t friends.”

“Justin,” Ciel spoke up. “It was my idea that we sneak up to join the fight. I… I can’t stay at camp knowing I could help fight against them.”

Ciel stood as he looked out to the East River before turning his gaze to Brooklyn. The thought of not helping his best friend, the camp that made him feel not so alone? To him, the answer was easier than throwing a spear into the ocean.

“Ciel, why didn’t you trust me to tell the truth?”

“It’s because-“Before Ciel could decipher an explanation an explosion and the roar of the Titan Army began to march down the Brooklyn end of the bridge shifted his attention. “We’ll get back to that.”

The three took up positions, Ciel behind a Jeep Cherokee with his bow at the reading an arrow housing Greek fire. Launching his arrow at a great angle, Ciel and a few others Apollo created a steady wall of Greek fire to slow the charge. Justin holding a position in the bed of a Ford F-150, knocking an arrow down the bridge and hitting a hellhound in its forehead. Justin and Ciel continued in intervals while Clara headed forward line with more combat-oriented Apollo kids.

The few demigods and hellhounds that were past the line of fire engaged in a melee with the Apollo kids. Clara raised her sword as she countered a demigod who raised an axe. Siding stepping and slashing towards the enemy's stomach, Clara followed with an elbow strike into their left bicep. Duck, dodge, and parry are all Clara could do against a demigod twice her size before she slipped under their swing. Clara then kicked their knee in before following a hilt strike to the left temple.

Another demigod aimed their shield to bash at Clara, lucky an arrow flew by and struck the demigod in the shoulder. Glancing back, Clara saw Justin giving her a wink before he continued aiding with the volley of arrows. Afterward, Ciel pushed forward as one Apollo kid fell down due to a spear on their leg. Will Solace, another son of Apollo helped pull his sibling to the rear with Clara and another Apollo kid serving as a set of escorts.

The metallic scent of blood and flames carried throughout the zones of the defensive perimeter as more combatants fell. The clang of swords, axes, and shields collided with a thunderous boom as the fever of the Apollo cabin stood holding the line. This was war and they were aiming to win this battle, but the forces of Kronos began to push the forward line back into Manhattan. Apollo kids conducted a retrograde of their forward line while the left and right flanks covered the retreat. Yew ordered them by section to ensure there wasn’t chaos amongst them, and so his siblings could get out of the line as fast as possible. Though it was difficult for them to buy time for those who were injured, that was until Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase arrived to even the odds.

Percy, Annabeth, and Michael discussed the current circumstances while the Apollo kids continued to hold what they were able to. Ciel caught a glance as Percy charged into the fray, followed by a few of the Apollo kids and Clara. Percy fought back demigod after demigod, turning the tide of the battle in their favor with the aid of a few Apollo kids who were skilled in close quarters. The Minautor made a b-line for Percy, and the two enemies engaged in brief combat before Percy eliminated his first feat.

Clara was keeping up with Percy though by a lesser margin possibly due to their height and age difference by taking on her own share of demigods with a fury not seen in training. Ciel along with Justin pushed forward with a few of their comrades, Michael calling out their orders for their shots as they blanketed the battlefield with a hail of arrows.

“We have a chance.” Ciel thought as he kept lining his shots up for the most accurate hits. Though the son of Hecate saw a spear going for Justin, without thinking he tackled his friend but received a graze to his left shoulder.

“Shit! What hell- Ciel, oh gods!” Justin sat up as he looked at Ciel clutching the fresh would.

“I’m okay, it’s just a scratch!” Ciel said in a lightly pained and angry tone. “Gods, that hurt,” he stated as he covered his wound with gauze and medical tape before taking his position again to aid the line.

“You’re stupid!” Justin commented as he took his place firing arrows. “Like who takes an arrow on purpose?!”

“You can complain and tell me how stupid I am when we get outta here!” Ciel shouted with a hint of venom.

“You’re not allowed to leave me alone,” Justin said as he readied another arrow. “Got it?!”

“We’re best friends, so we aren’t allowed to.”

As the battle on the Williamsburg Bridge drew closer a domino effect took over the entire flow. Ciel couldn’t tell much as a storm conjured by Percy took hold of the bridge, on the order of Michael the rest of the Apollo team ran. The crack of the asphalt, wires, and creaks of metal trembled in the demigods' hearts as the bridge fell into the East River, some not making it off or being swept away by the currents. Ciel was bringing up the rear of his comrades, ensuring Justin and Clara made it off but the structure underneath their feet collapsed.

“AH!” Ciel grabbed a piece of rebar as he fell his feet dangling and his grip ever weakening. The violent waters once calmed were disturbed by the falling bridge, metal, and cars that flashed before dimming out to nothing as if Charybdis was making an appearance from the Sea of Monsters.

“Ciel!” Justin and Clara both divided down onto their belly to the remnants of the bridge, reaching out for him. The pair inching closer to him to grab their third member. “Hold on!”

“I’m trying!” Ciel trembled in terror trying to tighten his grip. The fear sank in his stomach as he stared up at his friends pleading for them to help him up.

They inched closer and closer until they were but a hand length away.

“Ciel, you’re gonna have to pull yourself up!” Clara barked as her hand reached for him.

“I… I…” Ciel shook as his grip felt as if it were loosening. He either pulled himself up or fell to his death.

Though the injury from saving Justin made his left arm wail in agony, sapping away at what energy remained shortened the ability of what could have been easy. Nevertheless, he couldn’t blame himself for trying to protect the closest person to him like a brother. Mustering what strength he had left and with a loud yell, he pulled himself up as Justin and Clara clamped their hands on his arms and quivered, pulling him to safety.

“I hate heights,” Ciel said as he crawled on his knees. “Thanks, guys.”

“Don’t be a crybaby,” Justin said with a light jab at Ciel's shoulder.

“Ow!” Ciel rubbed where he was hit in the shoulder. “Mean!”

Justin rolled his eyes as he took a step up, his prosthetic leg being slightly banged up but manageable once they got back to the Plaza Hotel, the headquarters of Camp Half-Blood forces. Clara sighed in relief before glancing at the disaster of what came of the bridge and Percy's rage.

“By the gods…” Clara muttered.

“We have to regroup!” Will Solace shouted to the three and the others lagging behind. With no room to stay in their stupor, the trio followed the rest of their forces back to the Plaza Hotel.

At the lobby of the Plaza Hotel…

The silence that rippled through the dead streets of the Big Apple lingered, only emphasized by the steps of the members of the Camp taking spots to rest. Ciel, Clara, and Justin had just barely gotten through the lobby before they saw the carnage of their casualties. Some kids they fought with during Capture the Flag, some they raced with by the lake, and others barely held to life as medics tended to their wounds.

Ciel didn’t know if it was eyes playing tricks on him. Whether the battle on the bridge, fear of falling to his death, or the heavy exhaustion he felt he could have sworn he saw lights on each of his comrades. Whether they were bright in sold shades of different colors felt odd, unnerving would be more precise as he watched one of the mortally wounded camper's lights seem to flash dimmer and dimmer until there wasn’t a light.

“Hey, you alright man?” Justin asked as he pulled Ciel from his daze. “You, um, got a tear running down your…”

“Oh,” Ciel said in a monotone voice before wiping it away. “It’s… it’s nothing, J. Promise.”

“If you’re sure. Well, we get a chance to rest for a while. We will probably be called to take up guard in a few hours.”

“Alright,” Ciel responded.

That night was the worst sleep Ciel ever had up to date. What he hoped was a dreamless, dark, and silent mind where his thoughts could just stop. On the contrary, his thoughts were rampant as his dreams were filled with the campers who fell today in the defense of Olympus.

A boy from the Hephaestus cabin's stomach was slashed open by what can be assumed to be claw marks. A daughter of Aphrodite clearly speared through her chest as her wound sucked air, but her face is what cemented the terror in Ciel. Her eyes and the eyes of his fallen comrades pleading to be saved as if he could have saved them. How could he have though?

Maybe if he knew magic or was better at first aid he could have helped Will and the other medics. Right? Sadly, he wasn’t skilled at magic if at all. Whether it was Hecate doing or not wasn’t for him to say but one thing was clear: more lives will be lost before the end of the night.

His dreams pulled him to what seemed like the Titan army base camp. A boy in black armor and what appeared to be Greco runes carved into his armor. He stood around six-foot-two, his eyes glimmered a deep green like that of Greek fire. He stood with a woman in a royal purple gown and silver armor. The woman’s features shifted to those of the one Ciel met the day his dad told him of his origins. The way she carried herself was dignified and regal but there was something else about the air around her, it was something akin to a gentle breeze in a quiet evening. A presence Ciel often felt walking the streets of St. Augustine during its nights where the spirits would often walk amongst the living but not able to be seen except by him and those privileged to see into the Mist.

“Mother, it seems that the forces of Camp Half-Blood were able to turn us away.” The boy said as he pointed to the sections of the invasion attempt on a map.

“Prometheus is making his way to the Half-Bloods, if they give up after his talk then we will secure victory-“

“Do not get cocky, Alabaster.” The woman said in a firm, almost parental tone as she spoke. “We have not won this war. Your siblings who you lost in the invasion…”

“I’ll avenge them. I’ll avenge every single one and we will win. My blood is your blood, mother.” Alabaster retorted as he shuffled a set of cards in his hand before gazing at his mother.

“Hm. We still have some time before Prometheus reaches Jackson’s forces. His love for mortals will be his undoing if he steps out of line with Kronos.” The woman claimed as she scanned the map before looking up.

“You’re watching me, aren’t you?” She smirked before reaching for a handout. “There is still time to bend the knee. Join me, son.”

“Mother?” Alabaster questioned as he looked around before realizing his mother wasn’t focused on him.

“Seems one of your siblings can’t help being nosy. You have one chance, join us and you. Your father. Will be safe. I can swear this.” The woman's face though it was stern began to soften, almost pleading, as she tried to convince Ciel through his dreamscape to fall in line.

“If you don’t I’ll drag you here,” Alabaster stated as he marched towards Ciel's direction with a hand reaching out.

Ciel shook as he felt their combined gazes weren’t that of comfort did not make him want to join, especially with Alabaster threats towards him. He looked around to find an exit but was jolted awake and away from the Titan camp. His body shook violently as wind chime during hurricane season, drenched by his sweat as if he rose from the fresh surf.

“Ciel?” Justin questioned worriedly. “We got our shift. Are you alright?”

“I saw my mother. Hecate…”

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sadiecoocoo · 1 year ago

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Anyone ever hear a song and think, “my fucking god, this has the greatest blorbo and fic material I have ever dreamed of?”

Totally unrelated but I may or may not be making a RnM au based off of the song daughter of evil…

(This post is honestly just seeing if anyone would read that, and if so then I may get the motivation to write it ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

#blorbo #funny haha #daughter of evil #Rick and Morty #fanfic ideas #prince au #mayhaps #it’d definitely have sum Morty x Evil Morty tho >:)

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boygiwrites · 10 months ago

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Harley D. Dixon 28

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

I was lying last time. That wasn't a biggun. THIS is a biggun.

'Be careful, Dad.'

'I will, baby.'

I realize the others. 'Oh. And you too, I guess.'

'Real funny,' T-Dog signs, unimpressed.

The strongest of our group spare us no last glances as they turn away, with only five bullets and a handful of bolts between them. I sit next to Lori on the small bench, watching their backs retreat. The Thanton Memorial hospital. There it is, tall and beige like a school, but really more of a Hellbox filled with nasty surprises behind each one of the hundreds of little black windows. Glad it ain't me.

God. Nine miles. Two days. Sharpsburg, East of nowhere. We really made it. I guess I knew we would.

'You know this place.'

Herschel's already looking at me when I turn to him, his moustache curled around a smile.

'Just a feeling,' He adds.

'You're a mind reader,' I decide, regarding him with suspicion.

Herschel Greene; a wizard disguised as a Georgian farmer. I knew there was something up with him.

He doesn't respond, because I guess he don't want his cover blown. That or... Well, he's waiting for an answer.

'My Momma lived in this town.' Is all I supply him with after a time, because it ends the same way most stories do.

'I'm sorry.'

I shrug. It ain't anybody's fault. 'I don't know why I didn't tell nobody.'

'This town means something to you. We don't always share things like that.'

I guess. 'What about your Momma?'

'My Mother died when I was fairly young.' He admits easily, like somebody at peace. 'One day, my brother and I noticed she'd gone out into the rain to water the plants, and things were never quite the same for a long time after that.'

Oh. I've heard of that. People getting old, forgetting where their bedroom is, who their kids are.

It's hard to imagine Herschel as just a boy with a Momma.

Some days, it's even hard to imagine myself as just a girl, even though that's what I still am.

I offer him a lame smile.

'Let's talk about something a little happier,' He suggests, while over his shoulder, a flashlight glares across the inside of one of the second storey windows. 'I'm starting to think it's the end of December. That would mean it's Christmas soon.'

The light disappears.

I ignore it.

If only them pharmacies we checked this morning had anything in them besides rat shit and dust.

'Jesus' birthday party,' I muse.

That gets him to laugh. I think he's tryna distract me. 'Yes. It could even be tomorrow.'

'Really? How do you know?'

'Well, I suppose I don't. Do you like Christmas?'

Everybody likes Christmas. That is, at least, everybody likes presents.

'Yeah. My Meemaw had a really pretty tree.'

'The minute it turned December first, Maggie and Beth would always force everyone to put up ours.'

'Do they believe in Santa Claus?'

'Not anymore, I'm afraid.'

'And you?'

His eyes glint mischievously. 'Of course I do.'

I consider it. 'I don't think I do. I don't believe in the Easter Bunny, neither.'

Or God, but that's a different story.

'They didn't ever come to your house?'

'They came a few times, but I think they forgot about us. My friend Dylan said they're made up. The Christmas after that, I stayed up late to spy on Santa, but I just saw Merle and Dad carrying presents in from the truck. I never told them.'

'I guess Santa was too busy that night.'

'If he is real, I hope he's okay. The Easter bunny has lots of chocolate to eat, but... Santa might be hungry.'

I wonder if the walkers have made it to the North Pole yet. Knowing those assholes, they definitely have.

'You forget; — Santa has magic.'

'That's how he makes the sleigh fly, right?'

'Right. And all those cookies and all that milk... Well. He's got more than enough to last a lifetime.'

'So, you think he's okay?'

'I'm sure of it.'

'I would like some cookies and milk, too.'

The old man only laughs again, giving my knee a gentle pat as Carl leans forward, his mouth moving around some words.

When the boy gestures to me, Herschel translates.

'He asked me what we were talking about. He wants to tell you it's okay; Santa forgot about him too, one year.'

Carl sends me a thumbs up, trusting that the message got across well enough.

It did. I feel my smile widen.

It's wiped away when Lori suddenly lurches forward between us. Her chest wracks, wracks, wracks, a soft wad of phlegm flying past her lips and landing at her feet. My hand goes to her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, as if that's gonna do anything useful. Her lungs, they must be clogged up like sponges filled with yoghurt, all that sickness and junk coming back up the way it went in.

Herschel's on his feet, bringing his thin hand down on her back, knocking the phlegm out of her.

I glance over my shoulder.

Lights; more of them, swooping over the glass, appearing and disappearing and reappearing.

A gunshot lighting up a window.

Please be okay, I think. Lori won't make it like this.

Facing forward again, Lori's got her hand splayed over the base of her throat, coughing dryly. She takes the water bottle Carol is offering to her, and gulp, gulp, gulps down the last of what's inside, deflating when she's done, cradling her big belly.

Are you okay, I ask aloud as I loosen my grip on her, hoping it sounds how it's supposed to sound.

She smiles at me in the slightest of ways, putting her hand over mine before I can pull it away.

She nods, I'm okay, honey.

I nod back, because that's good. I don't believe her for a second, but that's good.

'There was a gunshot,' Beths signs to me, then.

'I know. I saw.'

She continues signing even as she turns to Herschel, a habit by now. 'That was loud.'

'Don't worry. Anything that heard it will be too slow to make their way over here.'

'I hope so.'

We sit without talking after that, watching the windows of the hospital light up with gunshots every now and then, as if it were a football game on TV. I count them, the flashes. The one I saw while Lori was coughing, that's one. That one there, that's two.

Rick used to talk about the day he woke up in the Grady Memorial Hospital sometimes. Right now, the only parts of the story I can remember are the ones where he'd hesitate to continue, staring at something in the fire the rest of us couldn't see, before he muttered about the way there wasn't one wall in the entire building that wasn't dirtied with blood, not even in the children's ward.

Hospitals just ain't what they used to be, is what I learned from him.

There's definitely more than just rat shit and dust in there.

I glance at Beth, asking her, 'Any noise?'

Her lips crumple into a thin line as she answers, 'Nothing.'

Just when I swear Herschel is about to bow his head and start praying, the front doors swing open.

Mouse perks up, his tail ramrod straight.

That's Dad, T-Dog, and Maggie walking out.

Where's Rick and Glenn?

The three of them are panting, dishevelled, but nobody hurt. Nobody bit. That's always the first thing I look for.

Thing is, though, they're all looking at me like I've won a shitty prize and I just don't know it yet.

What now?, I almost feel like saying, but don't.

The further in we walk, the darker it gets.

Does anybody really like the dark?

The flashlights carve out pockets in the walls and floors around us as we make our way down corridor after corridor. My heart skips a beat each time we pass the body of a patient or a nurse or a person in regular clothing, all with a bolt or a bullet buried somewhere inside them. We sidestep their limp arms in turn, their puddles of blood. I ain't ever been in a horror house before, but I imagine this is worse. I imagine it'd prolly feel a whole lot less like you're being walked to the gallows for execution, and that the blood would be fake.

If I had my locket, it would be clutched between my fingers right now, but the soft spot beneath my throat is completely bare. When I woke up this morning to my empty palm, I knew right away what'd happened. I didn't bother to ask what he did with it.

Passing another body with a bolt skewered through its face, my Dad reaches for it, pulling it out.

Clicking it back onto his bow, he notices me watching him.

'Keep going, baby.' He signs to me, black blood smeared down the side of his neck. 'Not far, now.'

T-Dog comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor a minute later, his flashlight revealing Glenn and Rick standing together just up ahead. Not hurt. Not bit. They look up from what they've been doing, which looks like taking turns kicking the wall.

T-Dog lowers the flashlight to their feet.

There it is.

The Harley-sized hole in the wall.

Now that I'm looking it, I can see what they meant. Nobody else is fitting through that thing, not even Carl.

Still no use, is the sentiment written all over Rick's face.

It looks like they've tried their best to widen the gap, but it's made out of solid brick and we're fresh outta jackhammers.

Will she fit?

Yeah, I think so, Is the gist of what I can tell they're saying to each other.

We got this piece off here, but it the rest isn't budging. We don't have any bullets left to shoot it.

Maybe... we can do what I said before? Find another pharmacy?

Sure. When you find one within twenty miles of here, you let me know.

You're right. That was dumb. Sorry.

There are no other options. The medicine Lori needs is in that room, and it's like I said. She won't make it, otherwise.

'Listen. There are keys on the desk.' Dad explains to me, his stern expression contoured harshly by the flashlights surrounding us. He takes my wrist, guiding me to crouch with him at the base of the wall, pointing through the cracked bricks. I strain to make out the desk with the keys at the back of the room on the other side, before I meet his gaze again. 'Do you see them?'

'Yeah. I saw them.'

The desk ain't the only thing in there.

'We need you to grab them and unlock the door for us.'

We both know I also saw the walker standing idly in the corner, head bowed to the floor, waiting.

'We'll be able to kill it when the door is open.' He adds when I don't respond, as if he needed permission. 'I can't from here.'

'My heart is beating fast.'

He nods. 'That's a good thing. And this meathead is dumb. Are you dumb?'

I puff my chest out, shaking my head.

'That's right. You don't need to hear them when you're smarter than them. You're always smarter than them. Okay?'

'Okay.'

That's what he's told me ever since I went totally deaf. I don't need to hear them when I'm smarter than them. It's not as if we've had the opportunity to test the theory out, since there's so little walkers that I ain't had to kill one yet, but I trust him.

Twisting around, he gestures for Glenn's flashlight and catches it easily, giving it a few test clicks.

He hands it to me. 'Remember what I taught you?'

I give a nod, feeling the weight of Merle's knife sitting in the sheath on my thigh.

'Good. And be careful of the glass on the floor, okay?'

'Okay. I got this.'

I can do this. I gotta, for Lori and the baby. It'll make for a funny story one day, anyway. I can do it.

'You got this.' He agrees. 'It's gonna smell you, but you're not gonna panic. Easy stuff.'

'Easy stuff. Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

With one last look at the group, I take a deep breath and grab onto one of the exposed bricks, contorting myself until my head and one of my arms is through the gap. I pause for a moment, trying not to breathe too much as I watch the walker follow invisible patterns along the floor with its eyes. Once its head is tilted away from me, I brace my hand on the floor, pushing myself through.

Oh, God. What was it I just said? I can do this?

The flashlight blinks on and off as I land on the other side, grabbing it, giving it a shake.

The desk is illuminated in a circle of light, centre stage.

The dead body twitches in the shadows. I slowly get to my feet, silently warning it to stay right where it is if it knows what's good for it. I'm smart. I can read and write now, and my Dad taught me how to stab the thigh first, so the walker will collapse and make it easier for me to reach whatever cavity I can stick my knife in. If this thing gets too close to me, it's gonna get the Dixon treatment.

Uh huh. That's right, I scold it, chin held up. The Dixon treatment. Ain't nobody want that!

The pieces of glass on the floor glint in the light as I tip toe my way through them, stepping up to the desk.

Dad said the keys are here. I saw them. They should be right here amongst these dusty papers — Ugh, God, don't sneeze. Don't. — or maybe even on this folder? What about the shelves above the desk? How could they just disappear?

When I turn the light on the walker, it's looking at me, eyeballs wet, reflecting the light.

It's smelt me.

That's okay. I'm okay. We knew it would.

It starts its slow shuffle towards me as I turn my attention back on the desk, casting about it twice as quickly now, batting the alarm clock, the pen pots, the stethoscope, everything out of my way and following all the pencils and random office supplies down to the floor. Kneeling, I look around, making sure the keys haven't gone down with them or fallen between the desk and the cabinets.

A glint of metal.

I gasp. They have!

I must've accidently knocked them off while I was choking back all that dust in my face.

I stick my hand into the slim gap, but — Ugh. — I can't get it any farther than my knuckles!

I'll have to make it wider.

Abandoning the flashlight, I grab the side of the desk, using all my strength to shove it even just one inch to the side.

Shit, it's heavy. They got bowling balls in here, or what?

The wheelie chair bumps into my ankle. I act on instinct, my hands shooting out, bracing against it. I look up. The walker's slouched over it, reaching for me. My elbows, they buckle. Shit. The seat slams into my shoulder — Ouch! — but you know what. This'll do. This works. I just need these stupid keys. I ignore the walker and its stench of old meat, focused on nothing but the keys.

I'm not gonna panic. It's what I used to do, but I've learnt since then. I'm better!

A couple shoves, and the gap is just wide enough, wide as it's ever gonna be.

Easy stuff. Easy stuff.

The seat suddenly gives way. The body rolls, cracking its cheekbone on the floor. Don't matter. I got the keys. I'm back on my feet and running to the door, feeling out a random key and shoving it in the lock, twisting it. It's the right one. The door opens.

Maggie pulls me out by the arm. It's if there's a fire blazing behind me and I'm about to go up in flames.

That's it. I'm out!

I fall into her stomach, protectively held there.

Thank whoever's still up there. Or maybe, just thank me.

Rick and Dad push past my shoulders, marching into the room and unsheathing their blades, powerfully driving them both into the walker's skull. Blood splatters as they yank them out, droplets landing across the glass cap of the flashlight on the floor. It tints the light and everything it's cast onto a bright red, flickering. Dad picks it up, wipes it on his thigh, and hands it back to Glenn.

Grinning proudly to myself, I hold up the keys up like a trophy head for everyone to see.

Maggie releases me, smiling breathlessly down at me in relief.

'Well done,' T-Dog exclaims with his hands, sharing a high five with me.

Kneeling in front of me, Dad cups my face in his hands. He don't give a damn about the keys. Are you okay?

'I'm okay. The keys were down the side of the desk. I couldn't reach them. I had to—,' Shoving at the air, I enthusiastically mime the struggle, making Maggie chuckle behind her hand. 'The walker was trying to get me through the chair.'

He smiles, wagging his thumbs across my cheeks before lowering his hands. 'I told you. Meatheads. But not you.'

'Not all the time, anyway.'

'You should've come back out when you couldn't find the keys.'

'Sorry.'

'It's alright. There won't be a next time. You did good.'

Then, taking the keys from me, he stands back up and returns to Rick's side in the dark room.

I stay right beside Maggie and Glenn as they make quick work of the storage room door, pushing it open. Their torches illuminate the shelves on either side of them, which to everyone's relief, are completely untouched, lined with all kinds of medicine. It wasn't all for nothing. Without bothering to read many of the labels, they swoop their arms through the masses of bottles, catching everything in their open backpacks and zippering them back up, before nodding to each other and stepping back outta the small room.

Let's go, Rick says as he shoos us forward. We're all eager to get the Hell outta this place.

Stepping through Thanton Memorial's broken glass doors, daylight breaks across my face.

The fresh, cold air floods into my dusty lungs.

When Carl spots me, it's like the bench burns his ass. He's calling my name as he comes running at me, crushing me in a hug that almost sends us both toppling over into the snow. A giggle is squeezed from me as I hug him back, feeling my bones creak under the pressure. Wow. For somebody who ain't eaten anything other than a bit of rabbit for the past two days, he sure is strong.

Pulling away, he holds both my shoulders as he worriedly exclaims something to me.

You're the coolest, bravest person ever, I'm gonna assume is what he's saying, I don't know how you did it!

He pulls me in for another, quicker hug.

When Herschel appears over his shoulder, I get the real story. 'He's telling you we were all very worried.'

Oh. Is that right?

Ow!, The boy scoffs as I land a punch to his shoulder, forcing him offa me.

'Tell him he's talking to Harley Dixon,' I say.

As the sentiment is passed on, Carl rolls his eyes at me, making a retort.

'He wants to remind you of the time he hugged you after you cried from a nightmare.'

Ow!, He complains again when I punch him.

As he rubs sorely at his shoulder, he can't help but giggle along with me.

'Come on,' Herschel interrupts us, herding the two of us back toward the group. 'Very well done, sweetie.'

'I was only a little scared.'

'Of course. This is Harley Dixon I'm speaking to, isn't it?'

Too right. 'Yes, it is!'

Stepping up to the crowd, we gather around the bench as Rick takes a seat next to his wife, uncapping the bottle of water in his lap. Her face looks awful pale-like, paler than the snow packed under our boots. Still, despite the effort it must take, she manages a smile. Her hands shake as she takes the water, watching Rick tap a small bottle of pills against her open palm until two tumble out.

Being trapped in that room was one of the scariest things I've done. I can say that, now. But as she tips her head back and swallows the pills down with a gulp of water, I'm hit with the feeling that I would do it all over again if I had to.

She sighs, body swaying. We can only hope that it works.

As Rick soothes circles onto her lower back, his gaze accidently meets mine.

'Thank you', He signs, looking like he means every bit of it.

His blue eyes start to water just like they did last night, except there ain't no fire I can blame it on this time.

I only give him a single, shy nod, grabbing onto my Dad's hand. He don't need to thank me. I love Lori, too.

Then to everyone else, he says it again; Thank you.

Carl's hugging me again.

I don't bother punching him this time. I don't wanna do it, anyway.

Being back in Sharpsburg is different to what I thought it would be.

Aside from the old blood smeared across the roads, the way everything seems to have gone through a nightmare and fell back asleep shortly afterward, Sharpsburg is the one place we been that has not bothered to rot away quite yet. There ain't no bombing craters where parks or stores used to stand, no toppled police barricades, army trucks, no bruises from the week everything ended.

Petey's general store is still exactly where it always was, right next door to the news agency, the record store, the locksmith. I don't keep my head down like I planned to. I don't pretend I never knew this place, or the people in it, because I did. I hold my chin up to the light of the setting sun as we walk through the forgotten town, unafraid of the memories I can see behind each and every door.

You know this place. I did. I do. For a long while, it was pretty much the only thing I knew.

Each weekend, I would jump out of Dad's truck the second he pulled up on the handbrake, door slamming as I ran into my Mama's open arms. It would be late afternoon, sometimes twilight. There was no school the next day, no quizzes or beatings to worry about. Not on the good days, not when I was cruising down the sidewalk on my bike with a dollar note in my hand, on my way to Petey's. He would always insist on letting me pick an ice cream out for free, but it never worked. Have-it-her-way-Harley, he always called me, the nickname a hearty chuckle in his mouth. The wind was in my hair on the way home, because I had one back then, dollar note replaced with a fruity-flavored glob of ice cream frozen to a stick. Sugar melting onto my fingers, washed away in the play pool after dark.

I used to do things like that. We all did, I suppose.

As we pass by an empty parking lot, I notice the rainbow streamers of a lonely, fallen bike blowing around in the wind like a white flag. I wanna ride a bike again. Just for a minute. Maybe two, I think, as I hold my gaze on it for as long as I can.

Eventually, we make it to a park. Of course, I recognise this place as well, and so does my Dad.

That's why I can feel him staring at the back of my head.

I never stopped to think about how he knows Sharpsburg, too. He was right there with me on the porch of Petey's store, most the time, smoking cigarettes in the sun with melted ice cream drying out on his collarbones. He remembers it, too.

We used to come to this park all the time; me, Momma, and Dad, on the rare days they got along.

I got to pretend I was a different kid looking in on the three of us and thinking, What a nice family. I wish I was her.

Now, the monkey bars look more like the giant ribcage of an old beast rather than something I'd wanna play on.

A shrivelled walker, curled over the seat of one of the swings, lets the wind brush its fingers along the ground.

Everyone has a Before.

Even that walker.

Even if our Befores were all very different, at least our Afters are all the same. We're all here, sick, hungry, tired.

The park's trees and fences fall away after a while of more walking, making way for a suburban street.

Coming to a stop in the middle of the road, the ache in my feet worsens to a pang, pang, panging.

'Everything alright?' Glenn's asking me as a wave of tiredness suddenly washes over me.

'My feet hurt.' I answer. 'And don't say sorry.'

'I think we're going to stop soon. Don't worry.'

Rick considers the houses lined up in front of us, hands on his hips, as Dad walks up to us. 'What's wrong?'

'Her feet hurt. And are you tired?'

I could fall asleep right here in the snow. 'A little.'

Even when I was lost in the woods outside Herschel's farm, I still don't think I ever walked this much and for this long.

Giving me a regretful look, Dad offers, 'Do you need me to carry you?'

'I'm a big girl,' I tell him, yawning.

'I know. I asked you a question.'

They wait on my answer. I think about fighting it a minute longer, but I just don't have it in me. I'm reaching up for my Dad before I even realize it's what I'm doing, letting him lift me onto his chest as I wrap my arms and legs around him.

I could've definitely handled it. Yeah. It's just that, maybe it's okay if I don't for a while.

I can already feel my eyes drooping shut. I'm gonna fall asleep right here.

It's suddenly a lot easier to feel like just a girl, now.

My chin hooked over his shoulder, I watch through my heavy lids as Rick does a double take on something laying on the ground, turning to pick up what looks like a fallen street sign. The moonlight swells over the clouds, spilling onto the metal.

Brushing the frost off, he reveals the words, Bolton Drive.

Bolton Drive. To me, this was always just Dylan's street.

If we turn left here, there's some bigger houses down the way. I think it's prolly what my Dad's telling the group right now.

We're on the move again right after that, heading further into the suburbs. I'm saved from walking, instead snuggling into my Dad. It's almost impossible to shield my face from the oncoming winds as I peek out over his shoulder, the moon a silver ball in the sky behind us. I bet it's just about the only place left without any walkers, including the North Pole. If I were a bird, maybe I would forget all about Earth and just fly up there. I could look back down on it all like from a faraway window, watching as it slowly spins.

At a harsh gust of wind, I close my eyes, and the moon and all the stars vanish.

Sleep sweeps me up quickly. My mind floods with murky colors, then black, swirling like a shower drain.

When I open my eyes next, we're approaching a house I don't recognise.

'Shhhh,' Dad's soothing me, looking about as exhausted as I feel. 'It's alright. I'm putting you down.'

My feet slowly setting on the ground, Maggie takes my hand before I get the chance to feel the loss of Dad's warmth. We wait shivering at each other's side as the men clear out the house. Rick eventually sticks his head back out, waving us inside.

Climbing the porch, we huddle into the narrow corridor and spread out into the nearest room, the lounge room. Dad's already got a fire going for us as we make ourselves at home on the sofas, the hot breath of the flames quickly starting to melt the frost stuck to my coat. I hug myself, breathing deeply and slowly to try fight off the urge to fall right back asleep. As I notice Carl approaching, I scoot over to make room for him and his Momma, who settles her weight down on the sofa with the help of Maggie and Glenn.

I feel a little bad for being carried, even if I needed it. Lori made it all the way here on foot, deep into a sickness and carrying a baby inside of her. A lotta people might think a lady like her is weak, but they'd be wrong. There's many ways to be strong.

My Dad stands from where he was knelt by the fireplace, peeling off his beanie and sitting beside me.

As I look around the room, all I see are tired faces.

Mouse plops himself between my feet, the poor guy's fur ice-cold beneath my hands as I give him some pats.

We'll be warm soon, buddy, I think.

Everyone's attention is stolen when Rick steps up to the front of the room, fiddling with his beanie in his hands.

He gulps on nothing, nodding to himself.

'I know we're all very tired,' Herschel translates for me as the words come, even though his arms must feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. 'Been tired for months. But let's just make the most of this and try to relax tonight. We've got a fire. We've got walls. Medicine. It's a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan. T and I will melt some snow for us to drink, and we got some food we just found in the kitchen. We'll take turns for watch through the night, but there's not much out there. You saw.'

Carol hesitates to raise her hand, shaking her head as she asks a question.

We turn back to Rick. 'I don't know. I don't like staying in one place long, but I'm thinking there's only a few more weeks left until Spring. It's not impossible to think we can tough it out here. There's not many other options right now.'

It looks like we're staying in Sharpsburg for a few more weeks, then. At least until the cold dies down.

There are worse places to end up.

'Try to warm up in the meantime.'

Leaving us to stew in thought, Rick and T-Dog pull their coats on tighter and disappear through the archway.

'You know something?' Beth asks after a minute or two, the only light in the room coming from the fire. It lends her face a pretty, dim glow as she glances at her Dad sitting next to her. 'Daddy thinks it's gonna be Christmas tomorrow.'

Oh, that's right. I'd almost forgotten.

Glenn sends him a, No shit?, sort of look.

'I just figured it would be about that time.' He explains, making Maggie light up. 'I have a sixth sense for it.'

My Dad scoffs, shrugging. 'Well, I don't have a calendar. Why not.'

Wait? Really?

'So, it's Christmas tomorrow?', I ask him, as if we ain't just making all this shit up.

Something so simple, the prospect of waking up on Christmas morning tomorrow even if it ain't in no official way, even if we ain't even got a tree, let alone a star to put on top of it, sparks excitement throughout the room. Yes, it's Christmas tomorrow. From the smiles breaking out on everyone's faces, Maggie giddily gripping onto Glenn to give him a shake, I can tell it's Christmas tomorrow.

Feeling just a little bit more awake than I did a moment ago, I exclaim again, 'It's Christmas tomorrow!'

My Dad seems to find this very amusing, smirking side-long at me.

There ain't much to say in the way of how our Christmases used to go, especially the ones after my second birthday, but I still remember seeing the church all lit up with decorations at night whenever we happened to drive past it. I always liked that.

Carl must exclaim the same thing I did with almost twice the energy, because Lori and Rick laugh.

'I can't believe,' Maggie gushes, 'I forgot about Christmas!'

'It's not your fault,' Glenn jokes, petting her shoulder. 'We've been busy trying not to die.'

'Good point.'

'I'm sure the Lord will forgive you,' Beth says.

'Yeah. He started all this shit, anyway.'

Maggie waves her hand around. 'Hey. A little respect for the Atheists in the room?'

When everyone turns to look at me and Dad, a round of laughter breaks out.

'We're only in it for the presents,' He agrees.

I nod. It's true.

'Me, too,' Glenn says.

'I just wish I we had some,' Beth pouts.

'We're alive,' Herschel argues, looking around at each person in the room. 'There's no present better than that.'

Aww. That cheesy line earns him a funny look from Maggie, who pulls him into a deathly-tight hug.

'I think there actually might be something better.'

Glenn sticks a finger up, standing and disappearing into the kitchen.

When he returns, he's cradling a bunch of shiny wrappers in his arms, dumping them all onto the coffee table. Snack packs. Crackers and cheese, salami and cookies, bread sticks, peanut butter. Those really are snack packs! What a lucky find!

Nobody hesitates. We all grab one, ripping the seals off and huffing the tasty smell that comes out.

'You just found these in there?,' Asks Beth.

'Yeah,' He answers, flopping back onto the sofa. 'They were in the pantry. There's cans, too.'

'I'm in love with whoever lived here.'

Mouse is staring at me as I pick up a piece of salami, so I toss it into his mouth.

I save the next one for myself, groaning at the nostalgic taste of school lunches.

'Better?' Glenn signs to me like a smartass, knowing damn well this is the best thing I ever tasted.

I stick my food-covered tongue out at him.

Blehhh!

Unexpectedly, he does the same thing back. Eugh. Gross!

When Carl notices what we're doing, he sticks his tongue out, too. Even grosser!

'Come on. Enough,' Dad tries to warn me, buts he regrets it a second later when a wet glob of salami lands in his lap.

This is what Rick and T-Dog walk in on as they come through the archway, holding cookware filled with chunks of snow and ice in front of them. My Dad's smacking the salami onto the floor as if it were fresh dog shit, Carl and I trying not to choke on our food, laughing at him. Mouse spinning in circles like a lunatic, spurred on by the chaos, making Carol laugh like she means it. Not that puny, polite little chuckle she does sometimes; a full belly laugh, holding onto Maggie for support. They was only gone a few minutes.

Rick smirks as he shakes his head, deadpanning something to the effect of, I see you found the food.

They set the cookware in front of the fire and join us on the sofas.

'Why's everyone so happy?', Rick asks as he sits on the ottoman, confused, delighted, because there has to be a reason.

'It's Christmas tomorrow,' I gladly tell him.

'Oh, really?'

T-Dog asks the others, 'Wait, what? How do you know?'

'We don't.' Herschel admits, throwing Mouse a cube of cheese. 'But we deserve a Christmas, don't we?'

Yeah, I see the word slip from Rick's mouth.

'We deserve some eggnog, too,' T-Dog adds, making himself laugh just like he always does.

'Tell me about it.'

'Cover your ears, kids,' Carol tells us, even though she's laughing, too.

I hear that right? As the deaf one outta the two of us, I jokingly gesture to my ears. I can't hear shit, anyway!

As everyone laughs all over again, my Dad reaches out to try and cover my eyes, but I bat him offa me. Nice try.

'You got the card, now, kid.' T-Dog tells me, like it's some secret club I've joined.

'I got the what?'

'The card. I got mine, too. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm black'?'

Carol smacks him. 'Whatever.'

'Next time your Dad gives you in trouble, you can pull the, 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

That's silly!

'Don't give her ideas.'

'Too late,' I grin devilishly. 'I got the card, now, Dad.'

He rolls his eyes, trying his best not to laugh, too.

'You can't do that, Harley.' T-Dog mimes. 'Oh, yeah? Is it because I'm deaf?'

'What did I just say?'

Sorry, man, T-Dog chuckles, biting on a tiny bread stick.

What's eggnog, Carl asks his parents curiously, reminding us why we're talking about 'cards' in the first place.

Eggnog is a milky-lookin' drink that got booze in it, which is why Rick and Lori brush off the question. I tried it once, during a party at my Meemaw's, after one of my Uncles shrugged and said, Fuck it. Tasted like garbage sprinkled with cinnamon.

'Let's just stick with what we have,' Herschel suggests. 'There must be some other traditions we can do?'

'Our family used to share a favorite moment from that year,' Beth says. 'Maybe we can do that?'

'That's a great idea, Beth.'

'I got one.' Glenn raises his hand. 'Finding that car in Atlanta.'

'Oh, that was good.'

'Sad we had to leave it.' He agrees. 'I also liked the time I fell into a dumpster after we left the CDC.'

'What?,' Maggie scrunches her nose at him.

'Looking back at it, it was pretty funny.'

God dang, I remember that day. I was sitting off to the side with Sophia, watching the scene unfold together.

'Morales had to grab your ass to pull you out,' I tease him.

Rick tries to hide the fact that he's chuckling, as Maggie asks him what he was doing in a dumpster.

'We'd lost everything. We were searching for supplies, but I saw some yellow boots and I wanted them for Harley.'

Everyone croons, Awwww.

'I remember those boots, actually.' Beths recalls. 'What happened to them?'

'I fed them to the cows,' I shrug, so I don't gotta bring up the farm, where I left them in our tent the night it all burned down.

'Hey. I risked my life for those boots.'

Rick corrects him, 'I think you risked your ass, is what she just said.'

'It's what I said.'

'I got one.' My Dad says, dipping a cracker in some peanut butter. 'The day we put Glenn in the well.'

'Remember how he squealed?,' T-Dog giggles.

'No,' Glenn tries to convince us, doing a very bad job of it. 'I don't remember that. Never happened.'

'That walker was next-level gross.'

Next in the line to share, I decide, 'My favorite moment is when I found Mouse.'

'He loves you, doesn't he?,' Maggie smiles.

I throw him another piece of salami, hoping that the answer would be yes.

Carl tells everyone his favorite moment from this year was sneaking off into the woods with me, but his parents both give him a look, so he wisens up and changes his answer to something a little less totally forbidden; going to shooting practice.

When it's Lori's turn, she mentions a time she pushed Carl on the Greene's swing.

Rick's favorite moment is beating Herschel at checkers, something that the old man lets him get away with sharing.

'Gotta be seeing Daryl wake up after surgery,' T-Dog says after that, startling me with how suddenly sentimental it is.

The firelight flickers back and forth on the rug for a few moments.

My Dad subtly replies, Thanks, man.

'I was gonna say that, too,' I say to be funny.

'Yeah,' Glenn backs me up. 'You totally were. In fact, I change my answer, too. Favorite moment; Meeting Maggie.'

The woman pouts up at him, grabbing his hand, threading their fingers together.

'I change mine, too.' Dad says. 'The moment I found out Harley wasn't bitten.'

'That's mine, too.'

'Me, too,' Just about half the group nod, agreeing.

Then, everyone's coming up with different answers, talking over the top of each other. Bringing Harley back safe from the gas station, is T's second answer, but he also has a third and fourth and a fifth, because he just can't pick one. Making it outta the CDC alive. Finding the farm. Saving Glenn after he gave blood. Herschel's favorite moment is all the moments he's kept his daughters safe, an answer that earns him a big hug from both Maggie and Beth this time, because, I don't know what I'd do without my girls.

Rick and Glenn finding Daddy safe, Beth says, and then Maggie; That's mine, too.

I find myself with a hundred new answers, too. The moment Jacqui and I kicked up all them butterflies outta the grass as we ran to the house, after she told me my Daddy was alive. The morning Maggie made us scrambled eggs and tea for breakfast. All them times I shared a peach with someone while we sat in the sun. Lori making that joke about Maggie and Glenn being in love, and how I gagged at it back then. I can't forget about the time Carl hugged me as I cried, as Dad cut my hair, as I petted a cow's nose or fed a chicken.

All the little things and the big things, but also all the sad things. In a way, I'm grateful for them, too.

If Jacqui was here, or Sophia, or Momma or Meemaw, or my cousins, who could be anywhere by now, dead or alive, or Morales or Eliza or Louis or Miranda, who I ain't sure if I'll ever see again, or even our dog Tank, I like to think they'd be grateful for me, too.

'I told you, didn't I?,' Herschel smiles. 'No better present.'

After that — After Glenn starts to tear up and we all tease him for it — We decide to wrap it up for the night.

'I love you guys,' He blubbers, like we didn't already know, like we haven't almost died for each other a hundred times over.

Okay, buddy, Dad's saying, reaching to pat his shoulder.

'I think it's time to turn in.'

Beth covers her mouth as she yawns. 'Yeah. I'm so tired.'

'Tell me if anybody sees Santa Claus,' T-Dog says non-committedly.

'I'm going to grab the blankets and pillows from upstairs.' Rick announces, standing up. 'Who's on first watch? Me?'

I'll do it, My Dad offers, letting Maggie comfort Glenn, but he's turned down.

He was frostbitten from head to toe only yesterday. I wouldn't let him out there, neither.

I can do it, T-Dog decides, and that's that. 'Maybe it'll be me that sees him.'

No fair, Carl whines.

Rick leaves and brings back down a whole bunch of bedding that he plops on the floor, giving everyone free reign to pick out what they want as T makes himself scarce. I pull out a small pillow and what must be a toddler's blanket, letting Dad help me get settled on the sofa. I lay with my head against one arm rest, Carl resting his against the other. Both our Dads tuck us in.

'Goodnight,' He signs to me, knelt just beside the sofa. 'You still hungry or thirsty?'

I shake my head, yawning. 'Just sleepy.'

'You were very brave today.' He tells me, earnest eyes boring into mine. 'Not many kids would do what you did.'

'I just wanted to help Lori and the baby.'

'I know. They got a better chance, now.'

'Does that mean I get to name the baby?'

He smirks a little bit. 'We'll see.'

I glimpse Beth muttering to Hershel over Dad's shoulder, sharing a big blanket. I sign, 'Would Momma be proud, too?'

His face falls. The words hit him right in the heart, a poisonous bolt. All he says is, 'Yes.'

'Good,' I manage to reply, right before my eyes start to droop closed.

'Goodnight,' He signs again.

Placing a kiss to my cheek, my Dad pulls back and lays his own blanket down on the floor in front of me, laying facing the fire.

Rick was right. This is a Hell of a lot better than those garages back in Newnan.

I would like to help T-Dog spot Santa, I really would, but I just can't stay awake even one moment longer.

I'm being shaken gently.

Groaning, I open my eyes. Dad's face is inches from mine, all the windows behind him filled with grey daylight.

Adjusting the crossbow on his shoulder, he signs, 'Good morning.'

'Good morning.'

Sitting up, I groggily take in the sight of the group still laid out across the room, fast asleep. All except for Dad, and also Rick and Carl. I see them standing in the archway, both dressed for the snow just like Dad is, whispering to each other.

'Get your coat,' Dad says, and before I get the chance to ask what's going on; 'We're going searching for presents.'

We're what?!

After waking Glenn and putting him on watch, the four of us set out into the neighbourhood. The sun slowly rises from behind the falling snow, eclipsing the roofs of the houses around us and washing the morning in a soft, pink and yellow hue. It's quiet, peaceful, just how it always is before the day fully starts. Carl, Mouse, and I are rowdily running down the sidewalk, disturbing it all.

It's Christmas. According to us, it's Christmas, and ain't nobody here to tell us otherwise!

Dad and Rick follow after us until we make it to the park, the two oldies totally left in our dust as we make a beeline for the playground and pounce on the metal merry-go-round. It's been so long since I went on one of these. It feels like we're breaking a rule, a rule that nobody said aloud, but we ain't. Our Dads told us loud and clear that today, we're allowed to do whatever we want.

I'll spin us, Carl's laughing as he pushes on one of the handles, Mouse wisely standing back.

I still remember to hold on tight. Here we go!

Once he's picked up enough speed, he makes a jump for the platform. He skids around like a drunk, landing on his ass. He hugs the closest handle. The world spins into a multi-coloured smear. I just can't stop laughing, not even if I tried.

As the ride slows down, it feels like I'm 'bouta hurl up all that salami I ate last night.

Again!, I shout.

The next time we come to a stop, we round on the sight of Dad and Rick standing off to the side, watching us.

'Wanna get pushed?,' My Dad asks us, nodding to the swings.

I jump off the platform. 'Yes!'

Rick effortlessly peels the dead walker I saw yesterday offa the seat, throwing it aside and helping me on. I'on know how long we swing for, but the warm, pink sun spills and spills between the trees until it's on my face, making me forget the cold.

Spring is right around the corner, now.

This whole nightmare is almost over. I can just tell.

One of these days, the sun will crest the horizon and the snow just won't come.

It doesn't take long for us to make it back to town square.

'Where should we start?', Rick asks.

'I want to look in Petey's,' I answer right away, pointing to the storefront. 'But Carl can't come.'

Obviously, it's because I'm gonna be picking something out for him, which is why he starts giggling when Dad translates.

Rick ruffles the boy's hair, nudging him in the opposite direction. 'It's a plan. We'll search over here.'

'There's a toy store that way,' Dad adds helpfully.

'We'll check it out. Good luck.'

'Good luck. Watch out for elves.'

He laughs a bit as I whistle for Mouse, who runs after us. 'We will.'

Passing barrels of wrinkled flowers, Dad sticks his fingers between the automatic glass doors and forces them open, pulling his crossbow down as they roll apart on the tracks. Out of the darkness, a human-shaped shadow stumbles toward us.

It drops to the floor before it can even open its mouth.

Lowering his crossbow, Dad nods me forward, tugging his bolt outta the walker's wet face.

Look around, He says, wiping the blood off on his thigh.

The first thing I check is the comic section, of course. I'm hoping they got the series Carl likes, the one with the kick-ass astronauts and the evil aliens on the cover that I can't remember the name of. Captain Noel and the Astronauts, or something like that. I read it just the other week while he was dozed off, just to see what all the fuss was about. Weren't hard to see why he likes it.

As I step over a fallen sale sign, Mouse sniffs around the shelves, skulking around the corner.

Approaching the display stand, I skip right over the magazines and check out the comics, flicking through the covers. There's pictures of supervillain scientists, monsters, ninjas in impossible poses, wielding metal stars. They's all dumb-looking, so I'm sure Carl would eat them up like hot cakes for breakfast, but I really want the alien one. He been after the next volume since we met him.

There's a tap on my shoulder.

Hm?

Glancing up at Dad, I watch as he pulls a comic down from the highest rack, holding it out for me to see.

Captain Nate and the Awesome Eight, The quirky logo reads.

Grabbing it up like it might disappear before my eyes, I feel the pages crinkle under my fingers. This is the one!

Volume Four, It says at the bottom. The final mission.

I hold up three fingers to Dad.

Understanding, he flips through the comics again before handing me the third volume.

I take it, hugging them both to my chest before signing, 'These are for Carl. He loves them.'

'Really? I thought they were for Beth.'

Pssh. He ain't funny. 'Let's keep looking. We need something for her, too!'

He puts the comics in my backpack for me, following me around the store to continue our hunt for the perfect presents.

For Beth, I find a couple bottles of nail polish in the tiny makeup display, throwing in a black tube-thing that reads, Mascara, along with them for Lori, or maybe for Maggie. I ain't sure. I ask Dad what he thinks, but he got even less of a clue than I do.

I decide to throw in a second tube and some eyeshadow thingies just to be safe.

For Rick and Herschel, we decide on a pair of woolly socks for each of them. You just can't go wrong with socks.

When we find some shirts with silly phrases on them, I know instantly that they would be perfect for Glenn and T-Dog.

Lastly, Dad makes us grab a bunch of random things that we need, like canned food and lighters, before we turn into the pet aisle. Mouse is there, nosing a package of tennis balls along the floor. He looks confused when they roll under the shelves. I crouch down, pulling them back out. It looks like he found his own present. He watches me stash them in my bag, pink tongue lolling happily.

On our way out, I pass by the rack again, stealing a girly magazine off it that I think Carol will like.

Carl and Rick meet us back on the street, both their backpacks suspiciously fatter than they were the last time we saw them.

'How'd it go?'

Good, Rick says, as Carl tries to get a peek inside my bag. 'Want to swap?'

Before the boy gets to close, I fend him off, giggling as he wrestles me.

'Sure.' Dad pulls him offa me. 'Hard to get a present for your kid when they're right beside you.'

'Exactly.' Rick chuckles, offering his hand to me.

I take it, blowing a raspberry at Carl's back as he walks off with my Dad in the opposite direction.

The store Rick and I check out is the record store, Jameson's Jams, just across the way. After he scopes the place out, coming up empty, it's safe for us to go in. The smell of dust and plastic swarms us I look around at the tubs of record sleeves and CDs.

'It used to be tidy in here,' I sign to him, even though he could prolly guess that.

The doors close behind him, shutting the snow out.

' Did you go here often?'

'All the time.' I meander up to the nearest bin. 'My parents loved music.'

As I pick up an edgily-decorated sleeve that catches my eye, Rick steps up to my side.

'Something tells me their music taste clashed,' He jokes. 'Am I right?'

No. 'They both had bad taste.'

Scoffing, I throw the sleeve back, walking around to the other side of the tubs.

Chuckling to himself, he glances down at the record I'd been holding. It fits my Dad to damn T. I don't take it with me, though, because we ain't got no way to play it. It'd just be a waste of space, so I crack open a CD instead, taking out the paper.

Tossing the useless part back in the bin, I look up to see Rick already looking at me.

He's frowning, his brown hair poking out from underneath his beanie, curled over his faint wrinkles.

'What?,' I gesture impatiently.

What's he want?

I hate to admit it, but there's a little stain of bitterness left inside me after what he did to my Momma's photo.

It weren't like it was on purpose, but it didn't have to be.

'I'm sorry,' He signs, the tubs separating us by at least ten feet feeling more like a hundred.

'It's okay,' I brush it off. 'I'm not mad at you.'

'I know. Trust me, I can tell when you're mad at me,' He smiles for a fleeting moment. 'I'm apologising, anyway.'

'That was the only photo I had of her, you know.'

'I know.'

'Her name was Lindsey.'

'I know. Your Dad talks to me about her, sometimes.'

'Why did you throw it?'

He pauses, picking at a sticker on the wood before fessing up, 'Shane makes me angry, honey. I was angry. I threw it.'

'Angry? Not sad?'

'No. Not sad.' He shakes his head. 'We were all past that when we saw the truck leaving the farm.'

'He gave me the locket. My Dad threw it away the night you burned the photo.'

'Yes, I know. He talked to me about that, too.'

'He did?'

'He was going to let you keep it.'

'Why didn't he?'

'You know why.'

Yeah. I do. I don't even know why I asked that. He threw it away for the same reason I'm not allowed to talk about Ronnie.

Rick changes the subject, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he signs, 'Thank you. Again.'

'For the hospital?'

He nods. 'You were brave.'

'Dad said the same thing.'

'It's true. Even I would have been scared, and I'm thirty-four years old.'

'You're never scared.'

'I'm scared all the time.' I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to say that. I wait until he says something else. 'Thank you.'

Hell. He shouldn't make me laugh like that. I'mma breathe in all this dust. 'You're worse than Glenn.'

'What do you mean?'

'You can't stop saying 'Thank you'. He can't stop saying 'Sorry'. Feet hurt. Sorry. My ears ring. Sorry. It's funny.'

'He's sensitive,' Rick agrees fondly.

'I know. He cried last night.'

A muted chuckle. 'That's right. He did.'

As I look off to the side, something on the wall catches my eye.

Guitars. A lot of them.

Abandoning the piece of paper, I run over to them, stepping onto a chair and pulling down an electric guitar.

Rick is eye-level with me when he comes over. 'Your Dad said he knows how to play.'

Nodding, I give the strings a dramatic thrum.

It must be painful, going by the way Rick looks like he's just heard nails going down a chalkboard.

I can't help but laugh, turning to hook it back up. Like the record and the CD, it would just be a waste of space. Electric guitars don't sound so good if you don't got anything to plug them into. Acoustic ones, however, they're perfect anywhere.

Hopping onto to the next chair over, I pull down a classically wooden guitar, cold to the touch.

When I strum this one, Rick gives a thumbs up. It'll need tuning, but that's a piece of cake.

Jumping down, I have a thought.

'How the Hell do we hide this from him?'

He looks the thing up and down. 'We might have to give it to him now.'

Aw. 'That's not as fun.'

'How about this — You hide behind me. When we see him, you jump out. Is that fun?'

Hmmm. 'Okay. Let's do that!'

Carl's a lot harder to appease than I am, which must be the reason Rick lets out a little sigh of relief. 'Great.'

'It needs a shoulder strap,' I decide, grabbing one from the rack nearby and ripping it outta the plastic. I try to figure it out, turning it over to get a good look, but then I just pass it off to Rick's mittened hands. 'You know how to put it on?'

'Let me try.' He accepts the challenge, kneeling in front of the guitar.

Buttoning each end of the leather strap to the metal attachments, it looks like he's got it.

He hands it back, raising his brows at me. 'Remember to jump out. We have to get him to crap his pants.'

'It's a plan.'

Before we meet back up, we stop by the thrift store next door so that Rick can grab the shirt he'd had in mind for Carl, a simple thing with a superhero he likes on the chest. As we leave through the front doors, Rick herds me in behind his back.

We're only waiting in town square for a minute or two before he signals me that they're coming over.

When I feel the time is right, I jump out!

Rahh!

Dad don't quite crap his pants, but his eyes do widen ever so slightly. In Dixon terms, he's chilled to the bone.

My back-up man watches on, laughing.

I hold out the guitar once the moment's passed, hoping it's obvious that this is his Christmas present.

Woah, breathes Carl as my Dad takes it carefully, Mouse's tail batting around wildly at his ankle.

We watch as he drags his thumb down the strings, remembering what it feels like. Slowly, he starts to smile.

Looking up at me, he seems very, very pleased. 'Thank you. I love it.'

'Merry Christmas!'

'We knew we couldn't hide it from you,' Rick explains, 'So we scared you instead.'

'Did it work?'

Dad nods, frowning as he mouths the word, Terrifying, before kneeling to wrap me in a hug. I kiss his cheek.

'Did you get everything you wanted?'

Nodding again, Dad stands and passes the guitar to Rick, seeing as he's already wearing his crossbow.

Pulling it on, Rick nods in the direction we came from. 'Let's head back, then.'

We make it only five feet before we notice Carl isn't following us.

Looking back at him, he points at the parking lot across the street.

We follow his finger.

Across the street, the lonely bike with the streamers still lays there in the snow, next to a couple other bikes.

We glance between each other, a glint of something cheeky in our eyes.

We're all thinking the same thing, ain't we?

It's a long walk, anyways.

Who the Hell bikes in the snow, is what a sensible person would ask themselves as they saw us race past their house.

We do!, is what I'd shout back at them.

We're zooming down the streets of Sharpsburg like we're late for a wedding, the most ridiculous sight the apocalypse ever did see. Rick, taking the lead just like always, with a guitar bumping around on his back as he pumps the peddles of a pink bike. Carl on the little one, its rainbow streamers blowing out on either side of him without a care in the world. Mouse, sprinting to keep up.

He's going so fast; I think his ears might just fly off and smack me in the face!

It's a challenge to not fall off the handlebars of Dad's bike just from laughing so hard.

I clutch onto it harder as we crest over the top of a hill. Rick goes flying down first, then Carl. Dad wraps an arm around my stomach, hugging me to his chest as we both laugh against each other. We're next. My stomach lurches. My toes go numb. Then we're free-falling, and the tyres are shaking beneath us and the handlebars are jiggling all over the place, the wind racing past us.

Sucking in a deep breath, I let out a shriek of, Wuh-Hooooooo!

My heart's beating outta my chest like when a walker's got me in its grasp, when I feel most alive.

Whatever day I've said is the best day of my life — This is it, now. Hands down.

Rick reaches the bottom first, doing a fancy little skid in the snow and glancing over his shoulder at us to see our reaction.

Carl gives him a thumbs down, making him laugh as he turns back around.

The hill flattens out into more suburbia.

We slow down to a more leisurely pace for the rest of the ride back, and simply enjoy the morning together, trailing the sidewalks like a bunch of kids. The sun is well into the sky now, shining through the frigid air without any clouds to cover it up.

When I spot the house in the distance, I'm almost sad.

As we pull into the driveway, bumping over the curb, Glenn stands from his seat on the porch steps.

Hey, guys, He's laughing, perplexed.

Rick answers him with a few flicks of his bell, braking to a stop.

Where'd you go?, He asks, as I jump down from the handlebars.

Carl dumps his bike on the ground and holds up his backpack, shouting, Presents!

He gawks. No shit?

No shit!, He exclaims, running straight past him and up the porch.

I catch Rick sharing a funny look with my Dad, but he lets the swear word go. It's that type of day.

The adrenaline-high don't leave my body even as I follow everyone inside the house, stepping into the busy lounge room. We're greeted by the rest of our group, who are more than awake by now, hugging us as we come through the archway. They're completely beaming. It's obvious. They've heard the great news — We went out in the early morning to do Santa's bidding, for no other reason than because we managed to live long enough to, and because we deserve it. For once, we can ignore everything else and it'll all be okay.

Shrugging off my backpack, I set it down on the coffee table. Carol and Herschel tidy away the empty snack packs as Dad, Rick, and Carl set theirs down, too. Everybody's eyeing the bags excitedly, tryna see if they can make out the goodies inside.

'You guys are sneaky,' T grins, wide enough to show off the gap between his two front teeth. 'Sneaky!'

'Where did you go?!,' Maggie wants to know.

She lounges back on the sofa, Mouse jumping into her lap.

'Town square.' Rick's looking livelier than he has all Winter; all year, maybe. 'We left while you were all asleep.'

T seems to have an epiphany. 'It's you guys!'

'What?,' He asks.

'You're Santa!'

Realizing the man is pulling our legs, Rick rolls his eyes.

Carl goes on to ramble all about our adventures. By the way he's miming it all out, I can tell he ain't leaving out our visit to the playground. Everyone's watching him with nothing but joy in their eyes, adding comments here and there, laughing.

When Beth notices the guitar, my Dad proudly shows it off to the room.

'Harley found it,' He signs, reigning everyone back in, reminding them to use signs. 'Pretty, ain't it?'

Herschel turns to look at me. 'What a wonderful, wonderful gift.'

'I got more,' I tease, giving my backpack a tempting wiggle. I can't wait to give out the rest of the presents!

'Let's just get right into it then, right?,' Rick suggests. 'Go crazy.'

That's all the permission anyone needs.

As the three of them open their backpacks and start handing out presents left and right, I get to opening mine.

The first things I pull out are the stupid shirts for Glenn and T-Dog, walking over to them and putting them in their hands. Maggie's laughing her ass off as they hold them up to their chests, cluelessly peering down at the text. I step back to admire my work. Sorry I'm late, T's shirt reads, and Hell, it's even funnier than I imaged it would be, I was doing my hair! I think he's laughing something like, You little punk, before he glances over at Glenn's to see the damage. I'm with stupid, His says, except the arrow is pointing at his face.

Aw Hell naw!, T-Dog unabashedly laughs.

'Put them on!,' I demand, taking the fabric in my hands. Glenn helps me out, pulling it over what he's already wearing and straightening it out so the message is on full display. T-Dog does the same thing, even if he does call me a punk again.

'How do we look?,' Glenn asks me and Maggie when they're done, giving a stiff twirl.

'Don't answer that,' T-Dog says.

I give Maggie her gift next, the Mascara. She plants a kiss on my cheek and pulls me in for a tight hug, releasing me so I can head over to the other ladies. Carol gratefully takes the magazine, Lori and Beth Oohing and Aahing over the makeup.

It's no 'Electric Spring Citrus', but Beth still seems very touched by the bottle of yellow polish.

Next, I pull out the tennis balls. Boy, does that get Mouse's attention. I rip off the seal, sending them all bouncing across the living room floor, almost tripping some people over. Mouse darts after this one and that one, chasing them all over the place as I hand the socks to Herschel and Rick. They're both delighted, taking turns giving me a hug. We was right. Ya can't go wrong with socks.

'Carl and your Dad have something for you,' Rick tells me as he pulls away, pointing over to them.

I tap Carl on the shoulder, and when the two of them turn around and realize me, his face lights up.

Harley!, He's exclaiming.

He digs through his bag and holds out my two presents.

'Thank you!,' I sign, taking them. Oh, wow. A diary and a packet of colored pencils. I don't gotta squeeze my thoughts into the margins, no more. I got fresh, blank pages, enough to prolly last me a whole year. Giving Carl a hug, I hold up a finger; Wait.

Reaching into my backpack and feeling out the comics, I pause just to be dramatic, before I pull them out for him to see. His jaw drops as he snatches them up. All them months hearing him complain, and watching him read the same volume over and over, makes it all the more satisfying to see him flick through the pages, realizing with mounting horror that it's everything he dreamt of.

Thank you, He's shouting, Thank you!

'Wanna see what I got you?,' Dad says next. 'You can both play with it, but it's for you, okay?'

'Okay! Show me!'

Carl and I crouch down with him as he unzippers his backpack. What he pulls out is not like anything I would've expected.

A big, flat white box with a photo on the front of some kids kicking a soccer ball into a little pop-up goal in the sun.

'Can't play soccer without a goal.' He smirks as I take the box in my hands, ready to tear it open with my teeth if I gotta.

They both help me pick the tape off the cardboard, pulling it open and turning the whole thing upside down. The goal slides out. Having finally been broken out of the confines of its box, it immediately springs into shape, almost smacking us all in the face.

Dodging it with a laugh, I exclaim, 'Thank you, Dad!'

'Do you like it?,' He asks.

'I love it! How do we set it up?'

Looking about, he finds a small baggie of metal stakes that fell out with it, and a page of instructions.

I lean in closer to take a peek as he skims over them, but it all looks simple enough.

'Easy,' He decides. 'We can set it up in the front yard, yeah?'

'Yeah. I'm gonna smoke you both so bad.'

Dad thwacks my arm with the piece of paper. 'Hey. Who said I'm playing?'

'Oh. So, you're scared.' I nod empathetically, feeling smug. 'That's okay. I'm rusty, too.'

'Seriously?'

'I only won three medals when I was in school.'

'I'm old, kid. I'm in my thirties. I'm pretty much dead.'

'Loud and clear. You're scared of losing.'

He rolls his eyes. 'You're a brat. Don't cry when you lose.'

'I've never cried in my life, Dad. Ask Carl.'

As soon as he passes on the question, Carl levels me with the most, Get serious, expression I ever seen in my life.

Whatever. 'I'll still win!'

'We'll see,' He says as I glance at the rest of the group.

'This was so thoughtful of you guys,' Maggie signs from her seat on the sofa, doing that little pout she does.

With all the presents handed out, I take my time looking around the room. T and Glenn are still wearing their t-shirts, of course. If I could have it my way, they wouldn't ever wear anything else. It looks like Rick and Carl gifted Glenn a magazine about race cars, and T-Dog a flashy, gold chain necklace that he manages to make look cool. Lori and Herschel are wearing new matching jackets, the material purple and puffy. They look like father and daughter, sitting there like that, Lori's head resting on the old man's shoulder. Beside them, Carol's blowing air onto Beth's painted nails, while Mouse lays on the floor, gnawing at the tennis ball he must've decided is his favorite.

And Rick. He's not pouring over a map. He's not frowning to himself as he cleans a gun. He's not snapping at one of us to, Stop that, We need to stay focused. He's just smiling faintly next to Glenn, refusing to reveal to anyone this was all his idea.

'I'm just glad there's no wrapping paper to clean up this year,' He chuckles, looking at Lori.

The woman smirks, shaking her head. Bad memories, I guess.

'Every year,' He continues, gesturing to an invisible pile in his lap, 'We would end up with this much.'

'You're not the only ones.' T-Dog scoffs, like this is a lifelong issue he's faced.

'Oh, yeah. You were a garbage man, weren't you?,' Glenn remembers.

'Minimum wage, brother,' He agrees, bringing the pizza-boy in for a bro-hug.

'What have you got there, Harley?,' Maggie asks as they pull apart.

'A soccer goal,' I excitedly answer, before holding up Rick and Carl's presents. 'And a diary and pencils!'

'I don't want you to think it's for schoolwork with Lori,' Rick says. 'Carl just told me he's seen you journalling.'

'I love it,' I shake my head. 'Thank you.'

That bitterness that I'd been feeling toward him, it disappears just as quickly as it came.

'You haven't been writing anything bad about me, have you?,' Glenn asks threateningly.

'Just a little bit,' I shrug.

'She's a brat, isn't she?,' My Dad jokes.

'She's a total brat.'

'Hey! I don't like you, either.'

'Well, Merry Christmas, everyone.' Maggie says to wrap things up. 'Time to take this outside. We got a game to play.'

'Sounds like it,' Rick agrees.

'Come on.' Dad stands back up, grabbing the soccer goal and the stakes.

Jumping up and pulling on Maggie's sleeve, I exclaim up at her, 'We should be on the same team!'

'Girl power,' She agrees, frowning stubbornly as we descend the porch steps.

Mouse goes running out into the snow with his tennis ball. Dad heads over to the fence, setting down the goal and pushing the stakes through the rubber loops to secure it to the ground. I tell him I hope he did a good job of it, because me and Maggie are gonna be making every goal we shoot for. It's Dad and Carl versus us two girls, so the competition is even fiercer. We gotta win!

'We got this,' Maggie goads as T-Dog takes up the goalie position.

Carol pumps her fist in the air. 'Let's go, girls!'

Everyone starts cheering us on as Maggie kicks the ball straight over to me. The game's begun! I stop it with my foot, watching as she skirts around Dad, shouting for me. I boot it back to her at just the right moment, running forwards.

Maggie dukes Dad, left, right, left, before she kicks it right between his feet and back to me.

I stop it again with my foot.

Carl's on me, suddenly. He tries to use his foot to steal the ball away from me, but I don't let him!

Keeping him at arm's length, I line up my shot with the goal. I've done it a million times before. What's one more!

I rear my foot back, and—!

T-Dog's far too big and slow to see it coming. The ball shoots right past him — Goal! — and crashes into the meshing.

'Point for the girls,' Rick announces from the sidelines.

Maggie runs up to me, grabbing my hands and squealing happily, with the boys sulking together in the background.

We end up winning. There's a few close calls here and there, but we're just too quick on our feet for them to really get any smooth moves in. As the winning goal is made by Maggie, Carl stomps his foot into the snow, complaining, Aww, man!

We use every last bit of energy we have left in us to play for the rest of the morning. For once, not just for getting out of bed, or making it through the day. We manage to get a couple more rounds of soccer in before somebody throws a snowball at my Dad while he's trying to kick a goal, and then it all devolves into a snowball fight. There's no teams or rules; just clumps of snow flying across the yard, people falling over, Rick laughing, and Glenn getting dogpiled to the ground until Dad has to come and rescue him from us.

Nobody's really winning, but I don't think anyone's keeping count, anyway. Nobody's losing, either.

Except maybe Carl, when he tanks a snowball directly to the face.

I gasp. Youch!

He wipes it off with a grin, scurrying off to start preparing some returning fire.

I hurry to join him behind the wall of snow, bulking up my snowball before launching it at one of the adults.

It hits Glenn in the jaw. He lurches; falls onto his ass.

Me and Carl share a high five!

To think I was dreading coming back to this town, when it's actually given me one of the best days of my life.

Is it bad I'm happy the world ended?

Probably, but I don't care.

FIVE MONTHS LATER.

I can hear light birdsong in the trees.

We've stopped again, on some highway or other. I'on know. They all look the same to me. Grey road, winding up a hill, flanked on both sides by a strip of dirt and twigs. While the others get outta the cars, slamming their doors shut and grouping together to discuss what's next, I turn my head away from them and gaze out the passenger side window. The sun warms my face. I remember back during the Wintertime; we hardly ever saw the sun. Hell. That was forever ago. Nowadays, we been fending off heatstroke, feels like.

I close my eyes, relishing in the sounds around me. Leaves brushing, idle engines rumbling.

There are a lot of moments like this for me, where I'll just ignore what everyone else is doing and listen. I'll listen to anything. The car radio, if anybody's got it playing, even if it's a song I don't like. A river flowing. A deer trilling. It's the best part of my day.

"We got nowhere else to go," Herschel's suddenly saying, and then I'm opening my eyes again.

The group is gathered around the hood of the car I'm sat up in, splaying a map out for them to study.

"When this herd meets up with this one," Maggie points, "We'll be cut off. We'll never make it South."

"What'd you say it was? About 150 head?" Dad estimates.

"That was last week." Glenn's shaking his head, squinting against the sun. "It could be twice that by now."

I've heard this exact conversation about thirty times over by now.

That herd from last year; It's thawed and split into two, and neither are getting any smaller. The more they walk, the more they pick up. It's how it's always gone. They been following us, and we been running. That's how that's always gone, too.

We had a couple places we holed up for a while. Sharpsburg served us well while it lasted, but we had to move, eventually.

Now, we're back on the run.

"The river could've delayed them," Herschel suggests. "If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through here."

"Yeah, but if that group joins with that one, they could spill out this way."

"So, we're blocked."

We're always blocked, I want to tell Maggie. You know this by now.

In moments like these, I think back to the day we had that snowball fight and try to remember what everyone's smiles looked like.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27," Rick says, "And swing back this way."

Rick's different. For Rick, I think back to the bike ride.

T-Dog's getting frustrated. "We picked through that place, already. It's like we spent the past five months going in circles."

"Yeah, I know. I know."

"Is this what we're doing, then?"

When Rick nods, T-Dog asks him, "Is it alright if we head down to the river to fill up on water, then?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out," He says as they disperse, Maggie rolling up the map.

Herschel whispers something to Rick, then, and I can't quite catch it. My hearing aids ain't that good, but I know it's about Lori because they glance over at her in the car behind me. It's probably the, She can't keep doing this, conversation. Like always, Rick's wiping his sweaty forehead, bullshitting his way through an answer, and like always, Herschel is patient with him. They know he's right.

Lori's about to burst, way her stomach's been looking these days. She's gonna give birth any day now.

I'm just glad she got better and stayed better.

That was a nasty sickness.

Herschel leaves Rick to think about what he's said, making an opening for Dad to ask him to go hunting.

I'm surprised when he turns to me. "You wanna come, chicken?"

There's that Southern twang I once forgot the sound of.

'Come hunting with you?,' I sign, just outta habit. Sometimes, my voice is just too loud for me to bare.

"Yeah. You can stretch yer legs a little. How 'bout it?"

Not wanting to spend one more second in this car, I agree by opening the door and jumping onto the tarmac.

He whistles for Mouse, and then we're walking into the treeline.

"Carl says it was blue, but the boy's blind," I ramble to Rick as we walk along the train tracks, keeping an eye out for animals.

"Between the pair'a ya," Dad muses from in front of us. "You almost make a full vegetable."

"Shut up, Daddy. You ain't funny."

He snickers a little before facing forward again, crossbow at the ready. "Sure I ain't."

"Anyway." I sigh as he pushes a leafy branch outta the way. Rick ducks under it, and then me. "Like I's sayin'—"

When I look up, the sight that greets me has all words dying on my tongue. I slowly catch up with Dad and Rick, who have also completely forgotten about the story I was telling. It weren't very interesting, anyway. Something about a frog Carl and I found the other day. The sun beats down on us as we look out over the sheer drop just in front of us, and at the rolling, green hills in the distance.

Well, I'll be goddamned.

That right there is a whole ass prison.

End Notes.

Okay that's it. I cannot edit this chapter any longer. What's done is done!!

WE ARE FINALLY IN SEASON 3 !! It only took a year and 28 chapters.

I'm very glad to be back in canon again, but writing Christmas with the group was so fun. Also very glad to be able to write Daryl's accent and slang properly again haha. It just didn't translate into sign language. I know some of you will also be relieved that we're not using it much anymore.

As always, I really hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading! Until next time! 💙 :)

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violettwrites · 5 months ago

Text

daughter of the deadlands — 01

prologue | next

a/n: hi !! welcome to the official start of dotd !! i do have to admit that the first couple of chapters may be a bit boring, but it’s just a look into madeline’s relationships with everyone but i promise it’ll get better ! i hope :]

anywho ! if you’re enjoying this so far, please don’t hesitate to reblog, like, and/or comment ! i love it when you guys support me 🫶🏻 also should i do a tag list !? let me know in the comments if i should do that !

→ masterlist

→ ask box

MADELINE GRIMES sat on a log at the edge of the camp, her damp hair clinging to her back as the warm georgia sun beat down on her. she had just gotten back from the quarry that was just a short walks away which was her only option to clean herself. ever since society had fell and the dead rose, basic things like having a shower or washing her hair were extremely limited.

her gaze drifted to her younger brother, carl, sitting at a makeshift table with a math book in front of him. his brows were furrowed, and his tongue stuck out between his lips, and it almost made her laugh. he was good at math, but that didn’t stop him from protesting. after all, why did he have to do math when school wasn’t even a thing anymore? but her mother, lori, as always, just ignored his complaints and insisted he do his homework.

madeline was grateful to be sixteen—old enough to avoid sitting with the younger kids and doing homework. besides, she was a straight-A student before everything went to hell. top of her class in nearly every subject—except phys ed. she hated sports. but everything else? easy A’s. she didn’t need to be sitting with the kids and working on fractions.

lost in her thoughts, madeline didn’t hear shane approach from behind until his hand landed on her shoulder. shane had been in her life since she could remember, being her dad’s best friend and all. she jumped, immediately scowling as she turned to face him. she hadn’t liked shane since her dad died. he had this hero complex, always trying to step into rick’s shoes. he claimed he was just protecting their family, but madeline wasn’t stupid. she saw the way he acted around lori—the way they’d sneak off into the woods together. they acted like rick had never existed, and it made her sick.

“hey, maddie,” shane said, sitting down next to her. she dropped her gaze to her shoes—her beloved converse. at least she’d gotten them for christmas before everything fell apart. “you doin’ okay?” he asked, his brown eyes full of concern for the girl, but she never believed it was genuine. there was just something different about him now. far from the shane she used to know.

madeline wanted to ignore him, but she knew better. her mom would just get mad and remind her to be polite—he was “uncle shane” after all. that didn’t stop the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. “i’m fine,” she muttered, inspecting her nails. she really didn’t care how they looked; she just hoped shane would leave her alone. that’s all she wanted nowadays; to be left alone.

he sighed, and she had to fight back a smile. she knew she got under his skin when she barely spoke to him. it was one of the few small joys she had left: annoying shane.

“you eaten today, kid?” he asked, removing his cap to run a hand through his hair before putting it back on. madeline nodded, a small ‘yep’ coming from her lips, keeping her answers short. she hoped he’d take the hint and leave, and, after a moment, he did. “alright, well… let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?” with that, he got up and walked back toward the camp.

her gaze lingered on him for a moment as he walked back towards the rest of the group, specifically her mother. the cocky swagger in his step was prominent, but you could also tell he was stressed. everyone was. and she did feel bad, but he just tried way too hard in her eyes– making himself the self proclaimed leader of the group, and everyone seemed to go along with it just because he had been a cop.

since learning about rick’s shooting, and the beginning of the apocalypse, madeline had withdrawn from everyone. she would constantly replay those moments in her mind; her mother sitting at the kitchen counter in their house, waiting for her eldest child to come home from school to break the news to her sixteen year old that her father was in a coma, and they didn’t know if he would wake up. and then she remembers a few weeks, maybe a month, later when lori had come into her room, telling her to pack her stuff because they were leaving now— without her dad. it had felt like a punch to the gut. shane had gone back to the hospital during that time too, later “confirming” rick’s death, claiming he’d checked for a heartbeat and found nothing. ever since then, madeline barely spoke to anyone.

it wasn’t just their family and shane at the atlanta camp either. other survivors had joined them. there were the peltiers—ed, carol, and their daughter sophia, who was close in age to carl. then the morales family: morales, miranda, and their two kids, eliza and louis jr. the harrisons— with andrea and amy. t-dog and jacquie, known as the douglas family, were there too.

glenn, dale, and the dixons also made up the group. madeline liked glenn; he was always kind, and they bonded over movies. he was a little older than her, only in his early twenties. dale let her borrow books from his rv—though most of them were boring, she appreciated the gesture from the older male.

as for the dixons, lori and shane didn’t want her or carl speaking to them. not that she was planning on it. merle pissed her off the most, especially when he called her “girlie.” daryl, on the other hand, wasn’t so bad. he didn’t talk much anyway.

deciding she’d had enough of the sun, madeline stood and made her way toward the rv to find a new book, considering she had finished the copy of ‘to kill a mocking bird’. most of dale’s books were old classics she had already read, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. once she was halfway there, she heard the c.b. radio crackle to life.

“hello. hello. can anybody hear my voice?”

it was a man’s voice, but the static made it hard to understand. madeline watched as amy, dropping the sticks she was carrying, scrambled to grab the mic. she knew finding other survivors was important, but why bother? it was just going to turn to shit for them in the long run.

if there was a long run.

she furrowed her brows at the commotion but kept walking. dale had given her free rein to the rv, and she appreciated the quiet escape it offered. once inside, she looked through the stacks of books and grabbed a copy of the catcher in the rye— another classic she had already read, but she didn’t mind it.

as she stepped back outside, book in hand, she spotted shane now trying to respond through the radio.

“hello, hello. is the person who called still on the air? this is officer shane walsh broadcasting to person unknown. please respond.”

madeline rolled her eyes. shane’s insistence on clinging to his cop identity annoyed her. it was like he craved the authority— the respect. and it worked on everyone else but her.

she used to be kind to him— hell, she used to love him, she really did. sometimes he’d pick her up from school in the patrol car when her parents had to go to the school for carl, or he’d always make sure to pick up a new barbie doll for her, every single birthday, but things were different now. and she resented him.

“he’s gone,” shane said, glancing up at the group gathered around him—lori, carl, dale, amy, and a few others.

“there are others,” lori said softly, “it’s not just us.”

from the doorway of the rv, madeline watched. she didn’t care much for the conversation anyway. instead, she turned back inside to sit at the small table and opened her book, letting her head rest on her hand as she read.

lost in her own little world as she read the angsty words of holden caulfield, she hadn’t noticed carl make his way into the rv until he was interrupting her.

“maddie?” carl was one of the only ones that called her maddie— besides her parents of course. usually, she preferred ‘mads’, only because growing up she had been bullied by a girl called maddie, but she didn’t really care anymore. the other maddie was probably dead now, anyway.

“hey, buddy. what’s up?” she asked, folding the corner of her page and closing the book. she probably shouldn’t fold the pages of other people’s books, but she didn’t have a bookmark.

“mom’s mad at shane,” he whispered, sliding into the seat across from her, his chin resting in his hands as he pouted at her. “she wanted to put signs up on the highway to warn people about the city, but shane won’t let her.”

madeline sighed, nodding as she stood up. she could care less if their mom was mad at shane. if it kept him away from her, let her be mad. “c’mon, let’s check on her,” she said, ruffling carl’s hair before following him to their tent. she noticed the tension between her mom and shane. she had noticed it ever since she had realised that shane had a thing for her mom, but she never said anything, because lori had never acted on it. not until now, that was.

“mom?” carl called as they approached, and when shane stepped out of the tent, madeline almost scoffed.

“what’s up, bud? she’s inside. go on,” shane said, ruffling carl’s hair before walking past them, his gaze lingering on madeline.

making her way to the opening of the tent, lori smiled at them both. she knelt in front of carl, holding his hands. “don’t worry, your mama’s not going anywhere, okay?” her voice was soothing, playful even, like when madeline was younger. she nodded reassuringly at carl. “yeah—yeah?” she smiled as carl nodded back. “good, now go finish your chores.”

madeline stood silently, arms crossed, watching her brother run off. then she turned to her mother. “so, you’re sneaking around with uncle shane now?” she narrowed her eyes, seeing the guilt wash over lori’s face. “real classy, mom.”

“madeline, it’s not what you—” but madeline wasn’t listening. before lori could finish, she turned on her heel and stormed off toward the quarry, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

the gravel crunched under her shoes as she hastily made her way towards the quarry, her arms still tightly crossed over her chest, jaw clenched as she fought the growing knot in her stomach. she could hear footsteps behind her but she didn’t slow down—she already knew it was lori.

“madeline, please! wait!” lori called out, but madeline ignored her, making her way to the edge of the quarry. she stopped by the water, staring out over the still surface, her back stiff and unyielding. she just wished she could keep storming off, wanting to just keep walking until she dropped dead, but the water in front of her prevented that.

lori finally caught up, her breathing labored as she approached. “maddie, you can’t just walk off like that.”

madeline didn’t turn around. her voice was cold, distant. “what’s the point in staying? so i can watch you and shane pretend like dad never existed?”

lori’s face crumpled, the words hitting hard. “that’s not what we’re doing,” she whispered, trying to hold on to her composure. “you don’t understand… this world isn’t the same anymore. he’s—” her voice cracked. “he’s gone, maddie.”

“yeah, and you just moved on, didn’t you?” madeline spat, turning on her heel to face her mother. “dad wasn’t even dead before you started playing house with shane. how could you do that to him?” she knew she was being harsh, but she was speaking nothing but the truth. and if the truth hurt, then so be it. lori needed to know.

lori’s eyes glistened with tears, guilt etched into every line of her face. “maddie, shane was just trying to help—”

“help?” madeline’s voice rose, anger spilling out in every word. she wasn’t one to get mad like this, not at her mom anyway. but she had been on edge since everything happened. she was finally bursting at the seams. “he’s not helping us. he’s helping you. you’re both acting like dad never existed, like he never mattered!”

“that’s not true,” lori said, stepping closer, her voice trembling. “your dad mattered. he mattered more than anything, but we didn’t have a choice. we had to survive.”

madeline scoffed, turning away again. “survive? by running off into the woods together? that’s how you survive?”

lori shook her head, her own anger mixing with grief. “it wasn’t like that, mads. you don’t know what it’s been like for me, for us. i had to make decisions. i had to keep you and carl safe—”

“safe?” madeline snapped, cutting her off. “don’t pretend this is about me and carl. this is about you not wanting to be alone. you didn’t even try to hold on. you didn’t wait. you just gave up.” she knew she was being mean, but she couldn’t help it. madeline had given up, herself.

lori’s breath hitched, tears slipping down her cheeks. “i never gave up on your father,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “i loved him—i still love him. but he’s gone, madeline. what was i supposed to do?”

madeline’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. it hurt her, listening to how she was making her mom cry, but madeline was angry. “you were supposed to remember him. you were supposed to wait,” she said, her voice breaking.

the silence between them was thick, suffocating. lori took a tentative step forward, reaching out to touch her daughter’s arm, but madeline flinched away, pulling her arms around her body, as if trying to protect the pieces of herself that still ached.

“maddie…” lori’s voice was soft, desperate. “i’m trying. i’m just trying to hold this family together.”

madeline’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she turned to face her mother. “you’re not holding us together. you’re replacing him. and you don’t even care.”

lori’s face crumpled, her heart breaking at the accusation. “i do care,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “i think about him every day. i miss him every day.”

madeline looked away, back to the water. her voice was softer now, but the hurt was still there, raw and exposed. “you don’t act like it.”

lori swallowed hard, wiping at her tears. “i can’t bring him back, maddie. i wish to god i could, but he’s gone. and we’re still here. we have to keep going, even if it hurts.”

madeline’s silence stretched on, the only sound the soft ripple of the quarry. she didn’t respond, her face set in that same defiant expression that had become her shield since her father’s death.

lori took a deep breath, realizing she wasn’t going to get through to her, at least not today. “i’m here, maddie,” she said quietly, her voice full of emotion. “whenever you want to talk, i’m here.”

madeline’s eyes stayed locked on the water, her expression unreadable. “you can go back to shane now,” she muttered bitterly.

lori opened her mouth to say something more, but the weight of madeline’s words silenced her. she turned slowly and began to walk back toward camp, her footsteps heavy as she left madeline standing alone by the quarry, lost in her anger and grief.

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jazzy---j · 2 years ago

Text

Daughter of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief

“even the gods have to bow to fate”

Chapter Summary: Everything finally comes to a head when a storm and a hulking figure in the distance force the siblings to flee into the night. Leaving them with a new home, no hope, and no mom.

Masterlist >>> Read on ao3 (4/23)

Our Mother Teaches Us Bullfighting

We tore through the night along dark country roads. The wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas. I’d never seen my mom drive like this.

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I flinched. I didn’t know what was going on but I was freaking out.

Percy looked back at me from the front passenger seat, “Cassie hey,” he reached back and gripped my hand, “we’re gonna be ok, alright?” he said.

I nodded.

I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo— lanolin, like wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal.

"So, you and my mom... know each other?" Percy said.

Grover's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

"Watching us?" I questioned, “That sounds a little creepy.”

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend."

"Urn... what are you, exactly?" Percy asked.

”Dude... rude!” I chided.

"That doesn't matter right now."

"It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a donkey—"

Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!"

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

"Goat!" he cried.

"What?"

"I'm a goat from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter,” Percy questioned.

I rolled my eyes. Oh my god, this was not the time!

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you under hoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?"

"So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" I yelled.

"Of course,” Grover responded.

So, we weren’t crazy. Which is both liberating and concerning. We saw what we saw and it was real. Not just some fever dream.

"Then why—" Percy started.

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

"Who I—wait a minute, what do you mean?" Percy said.

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

"Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you and your sister to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after us?" I said.

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions."

"Grover!"

”What!?” I exclaimed.

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?" Grover said.

I tried to concentrate on what was happening but, I couldn’t focus. Who was chasing us? Why did they want us?

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want us to go,” Percy wondered aloud.

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn,” he asked.

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you.'"

"No, I didn't. I said 'someone.'"

"You meant 'you.' As in me."

"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you."

"Boys!/Guys!” My mom and I said.

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid—a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

I didn't know where there was, but I gripped Percy’s hand tighter in anticipation.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness—the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill Percy and me.

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner... and the spear he had thrown me. I gripped the bracelet and turned to Grover. But before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom! and our car exploded.

I screamed.

I remember feeling weightless like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time.

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and groaned, “uggghhh.”

Something... something wasn’t right.

I felt a growing pain and reached to the back of my head. I felt something wet, pulling my hand back I tried to focus on my thoughts but everything was all muddled. When my eyes finally focused I saw my hands covered in blood.

My eyes widened, that was my blood!

"Percy, Cassie!” my mom shouted.

"We’re ok...” Percy said.

I groaned again in confirmation.

I tried to shake off the daze. I wiped my bloodied hand on the seats. I wasn't dead. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

Because that’s just how life works now, I guess.

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump.

"Grover!" Percy cried.

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half-goat, I don’t want you to die.

Grover was my brother’s best friend without him I would be his best friend. I love my brother but he needs his own friends.

Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope.

"Percy," my mother said, "we have to ..." Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.

I swallowed hard. "Who is—"

"Kids," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

My mother threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Percy grab your sister, you two have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

"What?" He exclaimed.

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too!” Percy said, eyes determined.

Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean. She didn't intend to come with us.

"No!" I shouted, “Mom please!”

"You are coming with us, “Percy said affirmed, “Help me carry Grover."

"Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder.

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands—huge meaty hands—were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head... was his head. And the points that looked like horns...

"He doesn't want me," my mother told me. "He wants you two. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"But..."

"We don't have time, Percy. Grab your sister and go. Please."

Percy kicked the window out of the front passenger seat, “We're going together. Come on, Mom."

“I told you—"

"Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover."

He didn't wait for her answer and scrambled outside.

I climbed across Grover and pushed the passenger door open into the rain. I climbed out, broken glass cutting my hands. I turned back around and helped Percy drag Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far with just Percy if mom hadn't come to our aid.

Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass. Mom guided us through.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear—I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

Oh god!

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real.

I blinked the rain out of my eyes.

"That's—" Percy started.

"Pasiphae's son," my mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you."

"But he's the Min—" I began.

"Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power."

The pine tree was still way too far—a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows—or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

"Food?" Grover moaned.

"Shhh," Percy told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

Oops. I wonder if completely totaled counts.

"Kids," my mom said "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way— directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

"How do you know all this?" I shouted.

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me."

"Keeping us near you? But—"

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

My mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover away from my grip. "Go, Percy! Cassie! Separate! Remember what I said."

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right—it was our only chance. Percy looked at me, grabbing my hand tightly and we started sprinting to the right, turned and saw the creature bearing down on us. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

We stopped in from of a tree as he lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at us.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So we held our ground, and at the last moment, we dove in opposite directions. I apparently didn’t move fast enough because as the monster barreled past its horn clipped my side.

The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then drove right into a tree. He tried to pull back but his horn was stuck in the trunk.

As the bull thingy struggled Percy crawled over to me.

At this point, I am crying a little bit and gritting my teeth in pain. I gripped the gash in my side to stop the bleeding.

Percy reached me and gripped my shoulders firmly, “Cassie, Cassie look at me,” with teary eyes I looked at his rain soaked face, “I want you to run to the hill, ok? Just like mom said,” He exclaimed.

“No- Percy don’t!” I groaned.

”I’ll hold it off, ok? Don’t worry I’ll be right behind you,” he said firmly.

I was so dazed from blood loss I nodded dumbly. He helped me up and pushed me toward the hill.

“Run Cassie! Go!” He yelled. I started running toward the hill. My side and head were throbbing, I could barely breathe even as I tried to gulp down big breaths of air. Halfway up the hill I stopped and turned, trying to catch my breath.

I saw the bull creature finally pull itself free leaving the horn in the side bark of the tree. It bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward Percy this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

I'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side, I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

Percy stared frozen.

"Run, Percy!" she told him. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

I watched from that hill as she tried to sidestep, as she'd told us to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

“Mom!" Percy screamed.

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash and she was simply... gone.

"NOOOOOOO!" I screamed.

My voice echoed through the forest, the ground started trembling, trees were shaking, and pine needles fell to the ground.

Anger replaced my fear. With so much adrenaline pumping through me, the pain in my side was forgotten. Newfound strength burned in my limbs— as I raced back down the hill.

I just lost my mom I was not gonna lose Percy too!

The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, sniffing him as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too.

Percy stripped off his red rain jacket.

"Hey!" He screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward Percy, shaking his meaty fists.

I was running as fast as I could down the hill. I had to reach them before Percy got himself killed with some stupidly heroic idea.

Percy put his back to the big pine tree and waved the red jacket in front of the bull-man.

Oh, ok he gonna jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it didn't exactly happen like that. Of course.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab him whichever way he tried to dodge.

Time seemed to slow down just as I reached the edge of the forest.

Percy couldn't jump sideways, so he leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How the hell did he do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into another tree and the impact threw Percy around like a rag doll. I stood watching, trying to think of a plan.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake my brother. As he was being jerked around, Percy saw me standing there, his eyes widened.

Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. I scanned the forest looking for anything to help my brother. Next to me was the tree where the monster left his horn lodged in the side. I got an idea as I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, as I gripped the horn and pulled it out of the tree.

"Food!" Grover moaned.

The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. But, Percy got both hands around the remaining horn and pulled backward. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then—snap!

The bull-man screamed and flung him through the air. He landed flat on his back on the ground. When he sat up he had the horn in his hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife, twin to mine.

The monster charged me, but I was ready and charged back.

Percy rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, he drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

I ran, kicking off a nearby tree, and flew through the air stabbing the creature straight in the neck.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate—not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open, my side throbbing in pain. I was weak and terrified. I wanted to lie down and cry, but Percy needed my help carrying Grover. He couldn’t do it by himself.

I managed to stagger over to both of them. Percy gripped my shoulder tightly as we picked Grover up and dragged ourselves up the hill and down into the valley, toward the lights of the farmhouse. I was sobbing, calling for my mother, I even called for Percy in confusion.

But I held on to Percy—I held onto him for dear life.

The last thing I remember is us collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man, a girl with blonde braids, and a brown-eyed boy. The boy just stared blankly down at me, and the girl said, "That one is the one. He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "They are still conscious. Markus would you please bring them inside."

Then everything went dark.

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