A String Pulled Taut

The woods grew thicker the deeper we went, the trees pressing in like watchers, like they knew something I didn't.

I kept pushing forward, moving as fast as possible, the cold air curling against my neck like breath I couldn't shake. Lydia stayed just ahead of me, navigating the dark at speed with surprising confidence, her dark hair bouncing between her shoulder blades as she moved.

"How much further?" I asked, impatient and breathless.

"A few more ridges, I think. Maybe an hour if we keep pace."

I wanted to answer, tell her that was too long, but my gut twisted again - tight and sharp and wrong. I stumbled, a choked gasp leaving my throat as I doubled over, bracing myself against the nearest tree.

The bark bit into my palm. My other arm wrapped around my middle, trying to contain the awful swirling sensation that had been clawing at me for hours. My breath came in shallow huffs, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes. One slipped loose before I could stop it.

"Are you okay?" Lydia's voice was sharp with concern. She turned and rushed to my side, brows pulled tight. "Are you sick?"

"No." I wiped the tear away, teeth gritted as I forced myself upright and my feet to move again.

Lydia followed, matching my pace. "Athena, what's going on?"

I didn't answer at first. It sounded insane. Hell, it was insane. But the truth had been building inside me, low and steady, like pressure behind my ribs that refused to ease.

"Daryl," I said quietly, not stopping.

Lydia blinked. "What?"

"I don't know," I snapped, more harshly than I meant to. "I can't explain it," My voice cracked. "But he needs me."

We both fell silent, the only sound our boots against the forest floor and the wind weaving through the canopy. Then, I saw movement up ahead of us, someone in the darkness. I stopped short and instinctively reached for my blade, but a familiar shape broke through the trees - mud-splattered and panting, beard unkempt and eyes wild.

Aaron.

Relief hit me like a wave. But it passed just as fast. It was just him. No Daryl. No Merle. No Carol.

My stomach dropped, and I surged forward.

"Where are they!?" I demanded, my voice desperate. "Where is he!?"

"He's okay," Aaron said quickly. "Daryl's okay."

All of the air left my lungs. "He's okay?" I repeated.

Aaron nodded, and I felt like my knees would give out in relief.

Lydia stepped up beside me, staring at Aaron. "Why are you alone?"

Aaron hesitated. "There was an accident... Merle... Magna, Connie."

"No." The word escaped my lips before I could stop it. My chest clenched. "Merle?"

"Are they..?" Lydia asked before I could.

"I don't know." Aaron ran a hand through his hair. "We found the horde. There was a cave. We were trapped. We found an exit, but it collapsed before the last three made it out."

"Fuck," I whispered, the relief and new fear mixing. "Where the hell is Daryl?"

"He stayed behind," Aaron continued. "He's trying to find another way in. He knew you'd be worried. He insisted I come back, tell you he was okay, tell everyone we found it. We found the horde."

So that was it. The collapse. That's what set off my gut. That's what made me feel like I was breaking apart inside. That fear. But he made it out, Aaron just told me he was safe... So why do I still feel like this?

"Carol's with him?" I asked, assuming. "The others?"

"No... She went back to Hilltop," Aaron replied, "with Kelly and Jerry."

I reeled, fists clenching. "You let him go off alone!? In Whisperer territory!? Have you lost your fucking mind!?"

"It's complicated-," Aaron started cautiously.

But I didn't let him finish. I didn't give a shit how complicated it was. All I cared about was that my husband was out there, somewhere, surrounded by enemy territory, trying to get to his brother - alone.

I stepped closer, my voice low and dangerous. "Where?"

Aaron swallowed. "About five miles north. There's a creek bed just before the caves. It's a big area, he could be anywhere around there."

I was already moving, Lydia hot on my heels.

"I didn't want to leave him, Athena," Aaron called after me. "He didn't give me a choice."

I kept storming forward, my voice biting. "Get back. Tell Annie."

God, Annie. Of course she'd be worrying. Merle hadn't come back either, but Annie - she didn't chase down storms like I did. She folded inward, tried to pretend things weren't happening. She'd kept herself hidden away at home all day - out of sight - but she'd be scared out of her mind, too. I should have at least told her I was leaving. That I felt like something was wrong.

I pushed the guilt down and kept moving. There wasn't time to dwell on being a shitty sister-in-law right now. I still had to get to Daryl. Throw my arms around him. Tell him I was sorry for being a bitch - that I shouldn't have let him leave like that, that if Merle was alive - we'd find a way to get him out.

But that relief I'd felt when Aaron said Daryl wasn't hurt was starting to feel cruel - like a trick of hope. Because something still wasn't right. The pain hadn't left. That knot in my stomach was still there, twisting tighter.

I needed to know...

"How long ago was it?" I asked, glancing back at Aaron, my throat tight. "When you got trapped?"

"Seven... maybe eight hours ago," he replied. "It happened not long after we got there, but took hours to find an exit."

My mouth went dry. My heart thudded so hard I could feel it in my ears.

"How long ago did you make it out?" I asked. "How long since you last saw Daryl?"

Aaron hesitated, confused. "A couple of hours."

I stopped.

Everything in me stopped.

That was it.

That's when the pain inside me had started. Not them being trapped in the caves. Not the collapse.

When Daryl had become alone again.

"Fuck," I breathed, a fresh wave of panic rising.

I started running. Lydia called after me, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.

That false relief had tricked me into thinking he was safe. But I knew. Deep in my gut, in my soul - I knew.

He wasn't okay. And he was alone.

"Athena, wait!" Lydia yelled behind me, her boots pounding the earth as she scrambled to keep up.

But I didn't wait. I just ran harder, weaving through the trees, feet slamming into mud and underbrush. A silent scream still twisting somewhere in my ribcage.

~

After a mile or so of moving in silence - the only sound I could hear being my pulse in my ears - we hit a ridge, the incline steep, the soil loose. Our boots slipped as we climbed, fingers grabbing at roots and rocks to keep upright. My legs burned, but I didn't care. I didn't feel it over the fear coursing through me like my blood had turned electric.

We crested the hill, then that fucking sound came.

Groans. A lot of them.

"Shit. Now not. Not fucking now." I breathed, skidding to a halt as walkers began spilling from the dark - sallow skin, milky eyes, rotting teeth glinting in the low light. Dozens of them. Maybe more. My hand flew to my knife. There was no time to run, no time to hide. They were on us before we even had a chance to think.

I shoved Lydia behind me instinctively as one lunged. My blade flashed out and sank into its skull. It dropped, and I spun into the next one. But Lydia stepped back forwards again and began fighting too... She moved in a way I'd never seen from her before - like I never knew she could - slicing, ducking, dodging. We fought like cornered animals. But they just kept coming. Like the woods themselves were coughing them up.

"Watch their hands!" I called over, knowing that just because they looked like walkers, it didn't mean they were. Not anymore. Whisperers could very well be interspersed and ready to pounce. We couldn't take any chances. No doubt Lydia already knew this, but I said it anyway.

A walker came from the side then, and I turned too late. Its weight crashed into me, sending me sprawling to the ground. My knife tumbled out of reach. Mud coated my hands as I scrambled, teeth snapping inches from my face. I slammed my elbow up into its jaw, then kicked with everything I had.

It flew back - but when I scanned around, I realized I couldn't see Lydia anymore.

"Lydia!?" I yelled, lurching to my feet.

Another came, and I barely had time to grab a branch and smash it across the face before turning in frantic circles.

"Lydia!"

I couldn't see her. Only shapes. Movement. Chaos. They were fucking everywhere.

I surged forward but a hand - cold, decayed - clamped around my wrist. I spun, drove my knife into its skull, then yanked free. I shoved through them, heart in my throat.

"Lydia!?" I yelled again. But there was no response - only the guttural moans. The snarl of the undead. The wet, awful sound of bodies crashing through branches.

I twisted, pivoted, ducked under an arm and stabbed upward. I was moving blind now - panic thick in my throat for not only Daryl but now Lydia, too. Mud and gore slicked my hands. My breath was coming too fast. My head was spinning.

A walker lunged from the side and nearly caught me. I dodged just in time, slicing its throat open in a spray of dark red. But the sheer number of them - they were everywhere... I knew I had to make a run for it - there were just too many of them. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't help Daryl or Lydia if I was dead. So that's what I did. I ran. Swerving and dodging the bastards until I reached the cover of the trees they were moving away from, panting hard.

"Fuck," I choked out, stumbling backward until my shoulder hit a branch.

Lydia was gone. Not dead - I refused to believe that. But separated. Lost in the chaos. I could only hope she was doing what her bitch mother had taught her - hiding amongst the dead, moving with them until it was safe to separate herself.

I had to tell myself that's what she was doing.

I stood still for a long second, hand gripping the tree like it might keep me from falling apart. The pain in my gut surged again, cruel and knowing. I heard the crunch of a twig - too late.

A cold weight slammed into my back - a straggler - knocking the breath from my lungs. The stench hit me next - rot, bile, old blood - and the growl of hunger right in my ear.

I stumbled, but fought to steady myself. My hand flew to my blade, and I twisted in its grip, it's foul teeth snapping inches from my cheek. I drove the knife up once, missed - twice, missed again - until the third time, I felt the familiar sickening crunch of bone giving way as the blade pierced its skull.

It went limp instantly, collapsing fully atop me. But I was already falling - I stumbled backward with the momentum, my boot catching on a root. And then - crack. The back of my skull slammed into something hard. I barely felt the pain before blackness swallowed me whole.

~

I woke to the weight of death - heavy, cold and reeking.

For a split second, I thought I was still trapped in some nightmare, until the sharp pain in my skull reminded me I was very much awake.

My eyes fluttered open to the sight of a gnarled, slack face inches from mine. The walker I'd killed was still sprawled across my chest, jaw cracked, blood dried and flaking from the gash I'd carved into its temple. I shoved it off with a groan, its limp arm dragging across my side as it thudded beside me.

I lay there a moment, dazed, staring up through the canopy of trees. I had no idea how long I'd been out, and my heart lurched. Fuck. The sky was just beginning to lighten, and all I could do was pray it had been a case of minutes rather than hours. A few scattered stars still blinked down through the leaves, pale and indifferent. But something was different now.

It was quiet. No walkers. No groans. Just wind whispering through the branches like the forest was pretending none of it had ever happened.

I sat up slowly, the world tilting. My stomach rolled, and I reached for the nearest tree to steady myself. My fingers brushed the back of my head - and I winced hard, gasping as fresh pain stabbed behind my eyes. When I pulled my hand away, it came back bloody.

"Shit," I muttered, stumbling to my feet. Everything swayed. My vision pulsed at the edges, but I forced myself upright.

The pounding in my head was brutal, but it was nothing compared to the pain still churning inside my gut. It was worse now. Sharper. Radiating outward from my core like fire licking through my veins.

Daryl needed me. Now.

"I'm coming," I whispered to myself, dragging a sleeve across my face as I rose.

I staggered forward, pushing past the pain, ignoring the tears that burned hot in my eyes. I didn't have time to fall apart. I didn't have time to be afraid.

Every second I'd been unconscious, I'd failed him. He was alone in enemy territory, probably frantic about Merle, maybe hurt, and I was lying unconscious under a goddamn corpse.

My head throbbed with every jolt of my steps, and blood still dripped warm down the back of my neck, soaking into the collar of my jacket.

But it was background noise now. Dull. Distant. Unimportant compared to the pain tearing through my center like a wildfire. The only thing louder than the pain in my head was the scream inside my soul - screaming that my husband was not okay, and I was running out of time.

"Daryl." I whispered his name under my breath like it might conjure him.

I was supposed to have found him by now.

Lydia was still out there somewhere too, but something in my gut told me she was okay. Not safe, maybe. Not yet. But alive. Still fighting. That she'd find her way.

But Daryl... God, Daryl.

~

The trees finally thinned after fuck knows how long, revealing a rocky ridge.

There it was. The cave. Presumably the one they'd been trapped it.

Its dark mouth yawned open across the earth like a of wound torn straight through the world. There must be a reason Daryl and the others who escaped didn't just backtrack and re-enter through this opening, the way they'd first entered... Perhaps it was a sheer drop and that's how they'd become trapped in the first place.

I scanned the area frantically, eyes searching the ground for any hint of direction - any sign of where Daryl might have gone. I was about to move closer, try find the collapsed exit, try to track him from there.

But then -

I stopped, my thoughts halting.

Something shifted inside me, low and sudden, like a tug in my chest.

East.

I didn't hear anything. Didn't see anything. But it was like my body knew something my brain didn't. Like a string pulled taut between Daryl and I, stretching from my bones to his, dragging me forward without explanation.

I turned toward it.

Please, I begged silently, barely daring to hope. Please let this be you. Let this be your soul calling to mine.

I followed the pull through the trees, stumbling over rocks, brush snagging at my sleeves. I didn't care. I'd run myself raw if it meant getting to him.

Half a mile in, something on the ground caught my eye.

I stopped breathing.

There, lying twisted in the grass, was a shoelace - one of the ragged, sun-bleached ones Daryl always kept tied around the bottoms of his pant legs when he was out for long hauls, a way to keep the ticks and bugs out.

This one was soaked through. Claret from blood - so much blood it had nearly dyed the fabric entirely.

My knees buckled. I dropped to a crouch beside it, heart in my throat, stomach threatening to empty right there. My hand hovered above it, too afraid to touch. As if somehow touching it would make it more real. Make it his.

"Daryl," I whispered, voice breaking.

Tears blurred my vision, but I forced them back. There wasn't time. I snatched the lace and stuffed it into my pocket. Then I ran again - faster now. Wild.

The pull in my gut only grew stronger.

I broke through a dense patch of brambles and stopped short when I saw an overgrown gas station, half-swallowed by vines and trees, glass long since shattered, roof sagging.

And there - moving just ahead - was Lydia.

Relief exploded in my chest. She was safe. She was here.

I went to call out, but before I could, she disappeared through where the door should've been.

I ran up after her - but stopped short, just beside the entrance as I heard a voice slip out from within.

A voice that made my blood run cold.

Alpha.

She sounded raspy, wounded - that twisted drawl she used like a weapon slithered through the cracked doorway like a viper.

"You're ready, baby," she drawled. "I made sure you're ready. They're waiting for you to lead. They're waiting. Not those people you think you belong with.

My breath burned. The trees swayed. That voice - it hit me like a memory. Like a nightmare I'd tried so hard to bury under dirt and time.

The barn. The cold floor beneath me. The helplessness. The horror.

I gripped the doorframe to steady myself. The air was thick, stifling, but I forced myself to listen, even as my heart pounded.

Lydia's voice came next - shaking, but there was strength in it.

"I do belong with them" she insisted. "They're human. Not perfect. Just human. It's all I ever wanted. It's what you never gave me."

"I need you," Alpha whimpered, a pitiful imitation of a mother. "I need you."

I reached slowly for my knife, rage simmering low in my stomach. If she touched Lydia, I'd gut her where she stood. Hell, I was going to do that anyway, but first - I needed to know where my husband was. I needed to get to him and I'd bet my ass she could tell me how. Every second I stood here felt like another second of blood spilling from him.

I was about to pounce, demand answers, demand him. But then I heard Lydia's voice again. Strong. Steady. Like steel.

"I'm not here for you, Mama... I'm here for him."

My lungs stopped working.

Him.

My fingers tightened around the knife, and my knees nearly gave out.

He was here.

Daryl was in there.

A sob rose in my throat from the sheer overwhelming need to get to him as I burst through the open doorway like a hurricane.

I didn't see anything.

Not Alpha, lying slumped against the cracked linoleum floor, blood streaking her shoulder. Not Lydia kneeling beside her, tear-streaked but defiant. Not the broken glass or the dark smears on the wall.

I didn't care about any of it.

I was only looking for him.

"Athena," Lydia breathed in stunned surprise as I passed her, but I didn't stop. Couldn't.

My feet moved before I could think, instinct carrying me toward the back, to the shadows, to the quiet. There, toward the far wall, was a wooden workbench stained with oil and something even darker. Three walker corpses protruded from behind it, their skulls bludgeoned or pierced.

My heart felt like it would stop beating, because I knew.

I knew he was back there.

My husband. My Daryl.

I moved slower now. My feet felt like they were suddenly filled with lead. The world narrowed until there was only this - this small walk, this last terrible step. I reached the edge of the bench, and for a moment, I couldn't look.

Please... please...

I forced myself forward- and the second my eyes landed on him, a broken sound tore out of me so violently, I thought it might rip my throat to shreds.

The love of my life was lying motionless on the floor, blood streaked down his face from a gash that split beneath both eyes - bruises blooming around it like dark petals. His left leg was drenched in blood, soaked through the denim and pooling beneath him in a sick, sticky mess. A dented, gore-stained fire extinguisher was discarded nearby, and a knife lay near his hand, crusted with blood. Not his. One of theirs. One he must've had to pull from his own thigh before finishing the walkers.

He looked like he'd done everything to try and survive.

My body folded in half as I dropped to my knees. The sob that left me then was a sound I didn't know I could make. Raw, animal and shattering. My hands clawed at the floor as I crawled toward him, my body shaking so violently I could barely move forward. Each inch closer felt like another second closer to oblivion.

His skin was gray.

His jaw slack.

His chest didn't look like it was moving.

He looked... Gone.

I reached out, but froze - My hand hovered just above his chest, shaking uncontrollably. I was terrified to touch him. More terrified than I've ever been of anything in my entire life.

If he was cold- if I couldn't feel his pulse-

I wouldn't survive it.

I couldn't survive it.

The world would end, right here, in this broken little room.

I was crying so hard I could barely breathe, choking on sobs that racked through my ribs like aftershocks. My body felt like it was collapsing in on itself. Like the grief was eating me alive before I even knew it was real.

Then, a steady hand touched my back.

Lydia.

She knelt beside me and didn't say a word. She didn't have to. The pressure of her hand said everything - Let me.

But I couldn't stop sobbing. My chest wouldn't open. My throat was closing. My body felt numb.

Lydia reached forward, slowly, gently. Her fingers touched Daryl's neck, pressing just beneath the curve of his jaw.

I squeezed my eyes shut so tight I saw stars.

I couldn't watch.

I couldn't live in a world where he didn't open his eyes again.

"Please," I begged aloud, choking on my tears. "Please, Daryl, please."

A lifetime passed. Maybe more, before-

"He's alive," Lydia breathed, her voice breaking, full of the kind of relief that feels like collapsing.

My eyes snapped open, and I closed the gap in half a second, cradling his face with both hands like I'd break if I didn't feel his skin under my palms. His cheeks were cold - too cold - but not lifeless. Not empty.

"You're still here," I sobbed impossibly harder, pressing my forehead to his. "You're still here."

His skin was damp with blood, grime, and sweat. His hair clung to his forehead in matted tangles. I kissed his temple. His jaw. His nose. Every part of his face I could reach. I kissed him through tears, through panic, through the pain.

But even with him, alive, in my hands, the terror didn't ease. He was still pale. So fucking pale. His lips had the faintest blue tinge. And his blood - he'd lost so much. His pants were soaked in it, the floor beneath him slick and dark. The bandana he must've tried to use to stop the flow was soaked through, useless now.

This wasn't over.

This could still end the way I feared.

"I'm can't do this without you," I whispered, already reaching for my shirt. I tore it clean in half - not giving two fucks that I was left in just my bra - then yanked the belt from my waist, my fingers fumbling.

I needed to stop the still-seeping blood properly, but my hands were shaking so much I couldn't get the fabric to twist right. I couldn't grip it. Couldn't hold the buckle. My fingertips were numb.

"Fuck!" I cried, frustrated, desperate.

Lydia took the shirt and belt from me without a word and began wrapping the wound with trembling hands. I let her. I couldn't do it. I was still unraveling.

I moved back to Daryl's face, gathering it again in my blood-slick hands. I pressed my nose to his, my tears soaking into his skin again. I kissed his cheeks now, his brow, the corner of his mouth.

"Please stay with me," I whispered against him. "I love you. Please don't leave me."

His skin felt ever so slightly warmer under my mouth. The faintest heat. Or maybe it was mine, pouring into him.

His face was still slack. Still quiet. But I saw his chest rise - just barely.

He was still breathing. Still with me.

I turned my head just a little to look at his leg again, and noticed something then for the first time - my eyes had been too focused on him until now, my body too locked in that moment of desperation - but now I saw it.

Scratched into the wooden leg of the workbench, faint but deliberate, the letters etched deep and smeared with blood. Blood that hadn't yet dried.

Three short lines.

I tried

I'm sorry

I lov

He hadn't been able to finish it. It had taken the last of his strength.

My chest split open all over again.

"No..." I choked, my fingers flying to my lips. "No, no, no, baby- No."

Tears came harder. Harsher. A new kind of broken.

He knew he was dying. He knew.

And even with the last of his strength, he'd picked up that knife - not to defend himself. Not to kill.

To write.

For me.

A goodbye.

I couldn't stop staring at it, my body wracked with sobs. He'd done this for me. So I'd know. So I wouldn't think he gave up. Even at the very end - when he thought no one was coming - he was still loving me.

Still mine.

My eyes moved slowly, settling back on his ashen, beautiful face, fury rising suddenly through the grief like smoke through flame.

The words rasped from my throat like poison being dragged up through my lungs.

"She did this," I growled,

My hand slipped involuntarily from Daryl's face, and I stood.

I didn't think. I moved - crossing the room in a blur, toward her.

Alpha.

The thing that had taken so much. That had tried - again and again - to break us, and like fuck was she getting away with what she'd done to my husband.

The abomination was lying on her back, weak, half-conscious, her breath a low rattle in her chest. Her glazed eyes locked onto mine as I loomed over her.

There was recognition in them. And worse-

That smirk.

That sick, pathetic, twisted smirk that told me she thought she still mattered. Still held power. Still had control.

Not anymore.

I straddled her and slammed my fist into her face without hesitation. Once. Then again. And again.

She let out a soft grunt, too weak to fight back - but I didn't want a fight. I wanted her to feel it.

"Not my fucking husband!" I snarled, slamming my fist into her mouth, her jaw snapping sideways under the force.

Another blow - her cheekbone cracked.

"Not my fucking family!" Blood sprayed. Her face was already unrecognizable.

I kept going. My fists were slick with blood - hers or mine, I didn't even care. Her ribs gave way under the weight of me. She let out a final, wet breath-

And then nothing.

Silence.

Her body went limp beneath me, her head turned askew, mouth agape. Her lifeless eyes stared blankly past me, as empty as the world she'd tried to create.

And I didn't feel anything.

Not guilt.

Not pity.

Not shame.

I rose without a word, without a backward glance.

And just like that, I was back at Daryl's side, my fingers instantly weaving through his hair, stroking the sweat-matted strands off his brow, pressing kisses to every inch of his face yet again.

"Nobody," I whispered, trembling against him, "Nobody tries to take us from each other."

I felt him breathing, shallow and soft.

Still here. Still mine.

I couldn't look at Lydia. I couldn't tell her I was sorry - because I wasn't.

Not one fucking bit.

I swallowed the lump in my throat after a moment and moved again, kneeling, slipping my arms under his armpits, bracing myself. We had to move. We had to get out of here. More Whisperers would come eventually. This place wouldn't stay quiet for long.

Not one part of me expected Lydia to help me, to help Daryl anymore - not after what I'd just done.

And I understood.

So I dragged upward with a grunt, his weight sagging against me like a fallen tree. I gritted my teeth, preparing to haul him any way I could.

Then, I saw movement, hands sliding under his legs.

I looked up, Lydia's eyes met mine. Her face was streaked with tears. Her mouth trembled. But her hands were steady.

No words were spoken.

Together, we lifted him.

His weight bowed between us, heavy and blood-warm and real, but I didn't feel it. Not really. Not through the storm still crashing in my veins.

All I could feel was his heartbeat through his back against my chest - faint and fluttering - like a whisper trying to hang on.

We carried him toward the door, toward whatever came next.

And I swore - on every drop of blood she spilled-

He was going to survive.

A/N: This episode (sans Athena, obviously) in the show really tugged at my heartstrings. I rewatched a little while ago and found the scene where you can hear Daryl's breathing laboured as he lies there bleeding out with only Alpha for company really haunting - so I knew I had to make it a big part of this story.

Whenever I have a chapter like this that I've been planning for a while, I get so in my head writing it. I've literally spent the last SIX hours editing it and faffing with different parts, and I'm still not totally happy but I don't think I ever will be, so here it is 🤣

I also always planned for Athena to be the one to kill Alpha, but I wasn't sure exactly how or when it would happen. I'd sort-of planned a big showdown to come later, but realistically, I couldn't imagine a version of this chapter where Athena - even in her emotional state - would ever have been able to walk out of that gas station and leave Alpha alive after what she just did to Daryl. Would be interested to hear your opinions on this divergence!

I'm also really excited to explore the effect that Athena's actions will have on the dynamic between her and Lydia, and of course we have the other divergence of Merle being trapped in the cave to look forward to!

143 chapters in and I can't believe I still have so many ideas for this story! Do you still want more? Or are you ready for Daryl and Athena's story to wrap up?

I hope you enjoyed it, and as always, thank you so much for your votes and comments. They really do mean a lot! ❤️❤️❤️