The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

onehundredone.

A week later.

I correct Caroline's stance, positioning myself behind her as I gently adjust her grip on the bow and arrow, "there you go. Now, release," I order to my daughter once I find myself satisfied, without letting my grip on her go. The arrow sings through the air, meeting the target with a quiet thud. She spins around, facing me with a familiar shit eating grin painting her face. "Good job, honey. I want to see you repeat that a few more times, then you can be done for the day," I match her expression with one of my own, filled with pride and excitement for her.

I set up a makeshift target along the wall outside of our home, not caring of the small holes adorning the wood. This house has survived much worse, like the community wide bon fire Negan decided we apparently needed for being very bad tenants. Though, in the end, he was the one that got burned. He fucked around and found out that we weren't the ones to trample on.

I peer over my shoulder at the man in question; he's hard at work doing the community service that the leader's here at Alexandria decided needed to be dealt with today. However, he seems to be watching my daughter and I train with growing interest. I haven't spoken to him since the day we returned here. It feels as if the friendship we once had is now a thing of the past. I'm not the woman he befriended. Sure, he's seen exactly what I'm capable of, but now there's a darkness just lurking under my skin. He doesn't need to be exposed to that. He has his own issues, but at least he's no longer being held behind bars all day long, under the home where Michonne, Judith, and baby RJ resides.

Shaking my head, I drag my focus back to Caroline as she nods, returning to her position. I cock my head, stepping back, allowing her to move freely as she needs. "Did Uncle Kelly teach you this, too, mommy?" She inquires as another arrow meets its mark; her tiny body radiating excitement.

Daryl upheld his promise to our children, finishing the story of our adventures. He ended it when Rick took Negan down, and I saved the tyrant leader under the Brave Man's orders. The redneck would only edit the parts that he doesn't believe they should be aware of at their age. Furthermore, I had mentioned to Daryl that I spilled the beans on Owen and why he had believed I was dead. I finished his story long before he started telling his own, and now we are creating more to that story as one big happy family unit. However, since hearing of our history, the twins seem to view us in a different light. Kellin and Caroline have since stopped giving their father a headache, and begun to give him the same respect they give me.

"No, he taught me a lot, but this wasn't one of them. I could barely master the crossbow. I like close range take downs. For long range, I like my knives." What can I say? I like my blades and getting my hands dirty. It helps relieve some of the pent up rage swirling just under my flesh. "I leave the arrows for your father, and now you." Kellin shares my love for the blades, deciding his weapon of choice being his duel tomahawks. Because of my own affinity for it, it was easier to teach him to use them correctly, which is why he's off the hook for weapons training for the day. I got lucky with the bow and arrow the day I stole Owen's life from him; it's amazing how much my own anger and rage saved my life that day, assisting me in gaining my revenge. Teaching Caroline took a bit more of trial and error, but here we are; she's killing it today! Pride for my daughter dances around me, grinning as I observe her motions become more fluid and swift with each arrow. "Good job, Care!"

I've been enjoying the family time; I've been eating it up this entire week now that I don't have to worry about others and their minor problems. We've reclaimed our old home, with a few new additions. The twins share their room with Lydia, while Jamie, Wren, and James have claimed the living room for their own. Though, it feels foreign being back here. Michonne and company left it untouched, hoping Charlee and Wren would return with the smallest Dixons. Little did they know, it would be me instead of Charlee.