𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

72 | SATELLITE STATION

From the third row in the church, the setting sunlight cast its glow just above her head. Dyed a mix of blue and green from the stained-glass window, the rays were warm, enough to light up the entire room, where almost everyone was gathered.

She felt tiny, lost within the crowd as she sat with her right leg crossed over her left, and her hands clasped in her lap. She hadn't spoken much since they'd left the Hilltop that afternoon, taking half of the community's supplies in exchange for Alexandria's offer to deal with the Saviors. Her silence went unnoticed as the people around her stewed in their own thoughts and fears. Hers were no different from theirs - the unknown, the mountain of questions stacked a mile high. Tension blanketed the entire room, like a whisper from the doors telling the people to be nervous.

As Rick explained his group's visit to the Hilltop, the deal they had made, his voice was calm and clear. It was one of the many things that made him a good leader of the town, despite his previous actions and threats to the naïve residents when he first arrived. He had proved more than once that he had their safety and well-being at heart. Deanna Monroe had put her faith in him as she was dying, and so far, he was sticking to his promise.

"We can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal – we're getting food: eggs, butter, fresh vegetables." Across the chapel, sets of eyes lit up at his words. Food had been scarce within the town since the herd's invasion, with all stores and hunting grounds picked clean for miles. The news that they may soon have a solution brought about the odd smile, yet it was all tainted as they heard how the supplies would be paid for.

"These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Abraham, and Daryl on the road. Sooner or later, they woulda' found us. Just like those wolves did, just like Jesus did." As Rick talked, he glanced at the man. Hilltop's scout sat at the top of the room, his body facing the crowd whilst he watched Rick pace back and forth. "They would have killed someone. Or some of us. And then they'd try to own us. And we'd try to stop them. But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose."

The sheriff's hands rested on his hips, where before, they'd hung loosely at his sides. The concept of losing was one he couldn't face. He couldn't picture it, or it would drive him mad. His last big loss was against the Governor, a man who destroyed everything before taking his last breath, leaving both sides the losers anyway.

"This is the only way to be sure – as sure as we can get – that we win. And we have to win," he emphasised, eyes scanning the silent crowd. He watched each person, seeing fear in many faces, and determination in others. It was mixed, no two people beside each other thinking or feeling the same. "We do this for the Hilltop, it's how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. Anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

A thick silence enveloped the room, as people's eyes went from the leader to the floor. If her thoughts had been arranged clearly in her mind rather than a mess of unanswerable questions, Tori may have stood up. Yet, she remained still, almost frozen in her seat beside Daryl, who seemed so much calmer than she could ever pretend to be.

One of the benches behind her creaked, and heads turned to the noise, watching as Morgan slowly stood up, a nervous frown on his face. He ignored the stares, his own eyes locking with Rick's.

"You really think we can do it? We can beat them?"

"What this group has done, what we've learned, what we've become – all of us. Yes. I'm sure." Rick seemed so sure, his confidence reaching everyone in the room.

His old friend nodded slowly, as if in thought before he said, "Then all we have to do is tell them that."

"Well, they don't compromise," Rick began.