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THE NIGHT'S ZEPHYR made Devin's choppy hair graze her bare chin. She hadn't been so exposed to the world's nightlife for years, always hidden behind a mask with obscured vision and watchful eyes trained on her back. Out there, with the Herd, every move she made had the potential to be her last.
She'd forgotten how it felt to be free.
From a short distance away, Daryl watched as she took timid steps beneath the moonlight. It was like watching a wingless moth trying to reach a flame - she wanted to revel in all that her impromptu reunion had to offer but she couldn't. She didn't know how to be in this world anymore, and he didn't know how to help her adapt because truthfully; he wasn't entirely convinced that he belonged either.
"Sorry about the shoulder," Daryl apologised tentatively. "Ain't quite the same, but I fell on one of the damn things once."
A small smile blossomed on Devin's lips. "I didn't take you for the clumsy type."
"Wasn't me, it was some dumb horse."
"A bad workman always blames his tools."
Daryl chuckled gruffly.
"I'm sorry about your hand." Devin pointed to the taillight still deeply embedded between his knuckles. "But, um. . . I'd like that back."
"I'll get Enid to take it out," Daryl told her. "I'll bring it back to you."
"Enid's a doctor?"
"Mhm, she's good."
Devin nodded. "And you. . . you got a kid, and Leo got a kid, and Carol got a kid."
The corner of Daryl's lips twitched slightly. "You like him? Enzo?"
"He's funny." Devin crouched down in front of a planter, tracing her fingers over the length of a stem belonging to a mature kale plant. "Did, uh, did Maggie have her baby?"
"She had a boy. Hershel. That was her-"
"- Dad's name. Yeah, Freya talked about him a lot. . . Carl too."
Daryl visibly stiffened. Devin's absence meant she'd missed out on so many wonderful things, and yet, also an abundance of bad things. She had no way of perceiving the depths of his emotions for Carl Grimes.
"Can you tell me. . ." Devin snapped off a piece of kale and rolled it between her clasped palms - anything to distract herself from the anarchic torrent of grief flooding her gut. "How did he die? When?"
"The same day as you," Daryl revealed grimly. "When Freya got back to Alexandria after losin' you, he was there waitin' for her. Bit."
The kale slipped out of her hand and she lost her balance, landing on her knees.
