𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | TWD [Book 1]

LVIII. The Stranger Passing By

The rhythmic thudding of a ball against the floor has become an almost comforting daily backdrop, seamlessly blending with the routine as they move about the house.

Madeleine finds herself perched on the couch, surrounded by an array of weapons as she cleans them. With precision, she diligently attends to each one, ensuring they are primed and ready for them to take on the run. On the other side of the room, her father meticulously adjusts his belt, creating a new hole for comfort, weaving the worn leather through the buckle.

Beside them, Daryl occupies a space, hunched over as he diligently crafts arrows. The precision in his movements, the calloused hands working with practiced ease, mirrors the meticulousness of Madeleine's weapon maintenance.

Deciding to momentarily step away, Daryl rises from his seat beside his wife, sharing a nod with Rick, and kissing his wife's temple. Daryl's footsteps resonate as he leaves the house, the echoes blending seamlessly with the ongoing rhythm of their routine.

Michonne peeks through the living room's frame, draped in a robe with her hair secured in a towel. "Do you have any toothpaste left?" she inquires.

Madeleine briefly glances at Michonne before returning her focus to the array of guns. "No, 'cause someone's been borrowing it every day for the past two weeks," Madeleine retorts, a playful edge to her tone that prompts a subtle eye roll from Michonne.

Suddenly, Esperanza sprints into the living room, breathless, and stands beside Michonne with a noticeably annoyed expression. "Did you steal my toothpaste again? I still had a little bit left yesterday."

Michonne, with a nonchalant shrug and a teasing smirk playing on her lips, states, "Listen, that's the thing with toothpaste... we always think there's a little bit still left."

A chuckle escapes Rick as Madeleine's lips curl into an amused smile. She hands one of the guns over to Rick and secures the other on her waist, standing up from the couch. Meanwhile, Esperanza and Michonne engage in a silent standoff, their glares exchanging unspoken accusations.

Esperanza, unable to hold back, points a finger at Michonne's face. "Admit you stole it, like that last bar of chocolate!" The accusatory tone hangs in the air, and the living room becomes a battleground of petty theft accusations. "And the last granola bar."

Michonne raises her hands defensively, "That was Daryl."

Enid casually takes a bite of her apple, strolling into the living room with a skeptical glance at Esperanza. "Why are you in such a mood today? Have you eaten yet?"

Esperanza rolls her eyes, running a hand through her hair as the incessant thumping grows louder. "No, and that noise is driving me nuts!"

"Carl," Michonne calls out, glancing over her shoulder toward the room where Carl is.

"What? Denise says it's PT," Carl replies with a knowing tone, his voice echoing from the adjacent room.

"We can't hear you. Come on out." Rick places a hand on his hip as Freya descends the stairs with a babbling Judith in her arms.