𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

42 | THE BIG SPOT

It had been three months now since the fight ended and the Governor disappeared. No signs, no tracks. He was just gone. The prison was always filled with noise now, people all over the place. Many from Woodbury, many others that had been found and brought in over the past months.

Survivors came together behind the walls; a real community being built. People had jobs, roles to play. Kids had a safe place to sleep, and the big open spaces of the fields to play. A council made the decisions for the place, holding meetings every few days, or whenever any issues came up around the prison. 

Everything had been good for thirty days now. No accidents, no emergencies, no problems. Just a lot of people who were barely scraping by before, now able to actually live their lives with a smile, and sleep without having one eye open every night.

Tori's headphones played Mr Blue Sky as she took a stroll down the fields to the small farming plots. There was a chicken coop, and pen filled with piglets, and crops planted in fresh, hoed soil, vegetables growing from the roots. They were providing more and more food for the crowds that now lived behind the fences. Every day, more was planted, more was growing. The system took a little while to get working, but it was working.

The sun was shining above the prison this morning, the warmth making her almost regret wearing the long-sleeved white shirt she'd opted for. Her long hair was pushed up into a high messy bun, loose strands falling out over her neck, a thin layer of sweat residing there too. She reached behind her neck to pull her hair up, the breeze cooling her warm skin like water. 

Someone nudged her arm with their elbow, and she glanced down at Carl as he fell into step beside her, grinning up at her with a bright smile. He didn't wear his father's hat today, his growing hair almost falling over his eyes. Tori took of her headphones, resting them around her neck as she ruffled the boy's hair with her hand, then wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

"Thought you'd be out here already," she said.

"I was meant to be," Carl replied as the pair of them approached the pig pen where Rick leant against the fence. The boy nodded toward his father as he told Tori, "He was meant to wake me up. He didn't."

"Because I knew you were up all night reading comic books with a flashlight," Rick chuckled, patting his son's shoulder, and smiling in greeting at Tori.

The older Grimes was doing a lot better now. He'd really thrown himself into the role of building the gardens and taking care of the crops. Of course, he had help, but he was out there more than anyone else. He'd done as he said he would after the fight, taken a step back from leadership, from trying to run things. The council gave Rick the time he deserved to focus on himself and his children rather than everyone else.

Tori rested her forearms on the fence as the two Grimes did the same, Carl standing in the middle. The adult pig in the pen was lying down in the mud, her eyes half closed, and her stomach rising and falling as she breathed. She looked tired, maybe even unwell, her pink skin stained brown with the damp dirt she rested in.

"What's up with Violet?" Carl asked.

Rick sighed. "Carl, I told you not to name them. They're not piglets anymore; they're food."

"I know, I just thought... Sorry," the boy mumbled.

Tori nudged his shoulder. "Why Violet, anyway?"

"She just looks like a Violet, right?" Carl gave her a smile, pointing over to the pig. "Look at her and think of a better name. Bet you can't."

Tori squinted her eyes, sharing a smile with Rick over the boy's head. She glanced over to the pig, tutting a couple of times. "You're right. That's her name."