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

onehundredthree.

Now at Oceanside, I walk inside the group of trainees. Michonne and Judith are to my left while my son and Wren stalks to my right. I have one of my swords within my hand, lying lazily across my shoulders. Kellin's dual tomahawks rest in his grasp. Wren took a page out of Negan's book, wrapping her own baseball bat with barbed wire; she playfully calls it 'Lucifer'. Behind me, the archers march with Caroline in the middle, her bow and arrow tight within her grip. The group of trainees welding spears separates us, the melee's, and Aaron with his merry band of shield wielders, with a metal buffer littered in spikes.

Keeping my leather pants, I traded in my coat for a simple onyx camisole and fingerless black gloves. My combat boots crush the sand on the ground below me. My short hair is tied back with a bandanna, not allowing any fly aways from obstructing my view. Abraham's dog tags still rest around my neck, clacking with every move I make. 

It's been several months since I returned to Alexandria with my own family. Sometimes, I still find myself awaiting Rick to stalk up to me while I'm outside smoking my morning cigarette and drinking coffee. I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea that our fearless is leader is gone. I still wish that he was there with my rescue team. I know he would've stopped at nothing to bring me home, but his disappearance could've been what prolonged my stay with the devil. From my understanding, everyone was scrambling to comprehend losing not only Rick, but myself as well.

I just wish I was there for the fallout; maybe, just maybe, Rick would still be here, too. Maybe, I could've saved him. However, I can't cling to the 'what-if's', not in this world. We just gotta keep moving; keep surviving until something or someone finally takes us from this plane of existence. None of us are invincible.

My eyes flick towards Daryl stalking on the outskirts of the group, his unwavering focus trained on Caroline and Kellin. He's watched our twins train, but he's never seen them in action against walkers. I smirk at that thought and at the memories trickling through my subconscious. I've raised two little badasses. I firmly believe that while yes, they've been training since they were barely out of diapers, but they wouldn't fully understand the dangers of this world; so every once in awhile, Charlee and I would have them accompany us on a run. They moved against the dead exactly as they've been taught, and they work together as one. My tiny cunning and deadly Dixon's.

I return my attention towards King Ezekiel and Jerry as they release a walker dripping with seaweed. I zero in on every little move it makes as it stumbles towards to our little group of trainees.

"And halt. Drop. Archers." Aaron's clipped words slip into the air around us.

Without hesitation, I drop to my knee, feeling Caroline's arrow sing through the air as dances with the others, meeting its mark. The sound of the dead falling to the ground in a heap mingle in the air with the tones of the waves crashing onto the beach.

As Aaron and the other shield holders separate, I return to standing upright with Kellin following my lead with swift fluid motions. "Retrieve!" Aaron bellows. Two of members from the community where we are currently stationed at rush through, reclaiming their lost bolts. Within moments, they are darting back through the crowd, returning to their position. "Right and march."

"Archers, regroup. Formation." I let my own voice tear through the wind while Jerry and Zeke open the door of the desolate building, allowing more of the dead to stumble upon us.

"And halt," Aaron demands,  "spears." The group between us shoves their bodies between the crowd gripping the deadly shields, "thrust!" The moans of the dead are cut off abruptly as the blades are jabbed through the bone and brain matter of the walking corpses. "And halt."