SURVIVE.
❝ Let the end of the world be
inside you, then you don't
need to fear the end
of the world out there. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK ONE of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 1 - 3 ]
******
I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its...
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[ xxv. the dust of grief ]
november 4th, 2010
➸➸➸
ASTRID LANCASTER HAD FAILED Sophia Peletier.
Grief and guilt swirled within her, and tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she struggled to make sense of the tragedy before her. Astrid painfully thought of little Sophia's laughter from the days of Atlanta, her playful and innocent antics alongside Carl's, and the mere, yet ultimate, memory of a time when life in this terrifying universe still seemed to hold a glimmer of hope. The realization that the life of a child had been cut so cruelly short, even one who was no longer even truly herself, tore at Astrid like a relentless beast.
Sophia would have never been in this situation if not for Astrid. She had abandoned the girl when she had needed her the most. The knowledge that her lapse in vigilance had set off the chain of events that ultimately led to Sophia's demise as a walker was a bitter pill to swallow. The responsibility weighed on her, a heavy mantle that she struggled to bear.
But bear it, she would. She no longer had a choice in the matter. She could not take back the past no matter how much it hurt. Astrid had done her best—and it had not been enough. She would have to live with that. Despite her anguish, Astrid was determined to honor Sophia's memory by doing everything that she could to ensure the latter safety of those alive she still cared about. The guilt would remain, an indelible mark on her conscience, but she would channel it into a renewed commitment to prevent further loss. She would look after Carol, Sophia's mother. She would look after Carl, Sophia's best friend. She would look after the group, Sophia's last family.
"All right. That should do it."
Astrid Lancaster's hands trembled as she brushed dirt off them, her shovel dropped beside the fresh graves she had helped dig—three new resting places, side by side with Otis'. Each mound of earth seemed to symbolize not only the dead they'd put to rest but the mounting weight of their own mortality. Astrid stared down their makeshift cemetery and feared the thought of it growing bigger. But perhaps she might not even be around to see it happen.
After the nightmare of the barn massacre, emotions still smoldered like embers ready to ignite. Hershel Greene's glare had seared the message into her soul—his eyes, the windows to a shattered patriarch's grief and anger. The killing spree had claimed not just his undead family, but his trust in the living. Astrid understood his fury, his wish to see them off his land, even as she struggled to shake the shiver of dread that slithered through her at the thought. They could not leave this place. It was too dangerous out on the road.
"Start gatherin' everyone up for the service," Daryl's voice cut through the somber air, yanking Astrid from the abyss of her thoughts. His words, like a dagger, reminded her of the task at hand—that the day was still truly so young—pulling her focus away from her own torment. He spoke to Andrea and T-Dog, those who had shared in the grim duty of digging graves. "Astrid and I will go get Carol."
