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The southern wind carried the smell of turned soil and dried hay through the open Greene fields. A crow flapped overhead.
In the distance, the road curved behind a rise, where two small figures emerged—Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon—walking with steady pace beside a hand-built wooden wagon hitched to a pair of mules. They said nothing as they approached the Greene farmhouse. They didn't need to.
The time had come.
Farmhouse – Hershel's Porch
Hershel Greene stood at the porch railing, hands clasped behind his back. He watched Rick and Daryl from beneath the brim of his hat. His eyes didn't narrow or twitch. He simply observed, like the man had been watching the road for years.
Behind him, Patricia was loading final supplies into a canvas duffel. Otis adjusted the harness on the pregnant mare in the stable. Jimmy hauled empty jugs to the wagon for the road.
Beth hummed softly as she folded linens in the living room. Her voice was gentle, the same melody she always sang when nervous.
Inside the small back bedroom, Maggie Greene stood before a trunk with the lid open.
Maggie's POV – Packing Pieces
Her hands moved with practiced speed—folding shirts, sliding a revolver into a side pouch, rolling bandages. She wasn't sentimental, not anymore. Still, she paused when she reached her old leather-bound journal, the one she hadn't written in since the world fell apart.
She slipped it in anyway.
Her fingers brushed the corner of the frame near the window: a photograph of her, Beth, and their mother. The glass was cracked, but the smiles remained.
Maggie glanced at the walls. Her mother's old quilt. Her bookshelf with two Bibles. A sketch Jimmy had made of the fields last fall. She took in every detail—just in case.
Then her thoughts turned to him.
Rick Grimes.
The man who spoke plainly but measured every word.
He hadn't asked anything of her directly. Hadn't flirted. Hadn't pressured.
But he'd looked at her with respect. A kind she hadn't seen from strangers in a long time.
He wasn't just offering safety. He was offering something else.
Structure.
Direction.
Hope, maybe.
She tied off her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Time to see what came next.
Front of the Farm – Rick Arrives
Rick nodded toward Hershel as he reached the porch. "We brought a reinforced wagon. Room for the mare, gear, and a few extra supplies."
Hershel tipped his head. "Appreciate it."
Daryl moved toward the barn without a word, inspecting the load while Otis guided the mare gently toward the wagon's padded back section.
Beth walked out with two blankets draped over her arms. She handed one to Patricia, then turned toward Maggie.
"You sure we should go?" she asked softly.
Maggie looked at her little sister, really looked.
"We can't stay here forever."
Final Preparations
Within the hour, everything was packed. Hershel walked the perimeter of the house once more, checking fence posts, making notes in a small notebook. He left it under a rock near the front steps.
Patricia double-checked the mare's straps. "She's calm," she said to Daryl.
"She'll be fine," he answered. "We'll stop every few miles."
Jimmy walked with Beth toward the back of the wagon. "I'll ride behind. Keep an eye on the cart's axle."
"You remember the map Rick gave you?" she asked.
"Memorized it."
Glenn had provided the safest route back, avoiding walker herds and unstable bridges. Rick had memorized every point. The journey would take two days.
Hershel climbed into the seat beside Rick at the front.
"You're sure your place is ready for this?" Hershel asked.
Rick glanced toward the wagon, toward Maggie, who was adjusting her gloves and tightening the strap on her shoulder bag.
"It's been ready for a long time."
The Road North – Midday
They traveled in silence for the first hour, the creak of the wagon mingling with birdcalls and hoofbeats. Daryl took point, occasionally raising his crossbow at rustles in the brush. Maggie walked beside Rick, rifle slung across her back.
"You said you're from around Atlanta?" she asked.
"Originally."
"What'd you do before?"
Rick paused, then answered. "Sheriff's deputy."
Maggie nodded. "Makes sense."
He glanced at her. "Why?"
"You don't talk unless you mean something. Most men babble."
Rick smirked slightly. "Bad habit."
"No," Maggie said. "Rare one."
Camp – Night One
They made camp near a dry riverbed. The wagon was circled with brush for concealment. Rick took first watch. Maggie sat nearby, cleaning her revolver.
Jimmy tried to build a fire too close to the brush and was gently corrected by Patricia.
Otis and Daryl shared jerky and discussed how to reinforce the mare's shoes once they arrived.
Beth sang softly to herself, curled beside Hershel.
Maggie spoke, not looking up. "Do you think your place will really last?"
Rick didn't respond right away.
Then: "Only if we keep choosing people who want to build instead of survive."
Maggie gave a small nod. "Then I hope you chose right."
The Right Arm – Meanwhile
Carl ran drills with Sophia under Morgan's supervision. Glenn rewired the east watchtower lanterns. Dale stood in the tower, scanning the horizon, always watching.
Shane stood near the southern gate, arms folded.
He watched the trees.
He waited.
And he wondered who Rick was bringing back this time—and what it meant for the rest of them.
Dawn – Final Stretch
By midmorning, they crested the ridge overlooking The Right Arm.
Maggie stopped at the top.
She saw fences. Farmland. A watchtower. Smoke curling from chimneys. Children playing in the dirt. Armed guards with steel eyes, but relaxed shoulders.
"Looks like you weren't lying," she said.
Rick looked at her. "I don't."
Arrival at The Right Arm
The gates opened slowly as the caravan approached. Morales signaled down to the guards. Carl stood beside Carol, eyes wide.
"More people?" he asked.
Carol nodded. "Looks that way."
As the group entered, Rick dismounted and turned to help Beth down. Maggie followed without needing assistance.
Shane stood by the stable, watching silently.
Rick walked up to him.
"They're good people," he said.
"We'll see," Shane replied.
Hershel looked around the courtyard. "This place."
Rick gave a nod.
Maggie's POV – First Steps Into the Right Arm
She expected something rawer. More blood and bark. Instead, she found patrols that greeted her respectfully, a medic station clean enough to actually function, a greenhouse with thriving plants.
She passed a group of children drawing shapes in the dirt. A woman teaching them. Another baking near a fire drum. A teenager—Carl—watching her like she was a story come to life.
She felt the air shift.
Not safety, no. That was a myth.
But purpose.
She looked back at Rick.
He was already speaking with Morgan and Dale near the armory.
Not trying to impress anyone.
Just leading.
Beth caught up beside her. "It's nice," she whispered.
Maggie nodded. "It is."
And maybe, just maybe, it was a place worth believing in.
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If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Ptreon for early access, exclusive chapters, and more:
15 Advanced Chapters on Patreon
patreon.com/Jayzero