SURVIVE.
❝ Let the end of the world be
inside you, then you don't
need to fear the end
of the world out there. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK ONE of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 1 - 3 ]
******
I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its...
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[ l. the illusion of peace ]
july 3rd, 2011
➸➸➸
DESPITE ALL THAT HAD happened in the past seventy-two hours, Astrid Lancaster dared to say that the new day was peaceful.
The air, warm and inviting, cradled her, while the cerulean sky stretched overhead, and the birds serenaded high in the treetops. In the fragile lull of the afternoon, Astrid truly believed she could simply bask in the sunlight all day, without a care in the world.
Today would be easy.
Seated atop the overturned bus that lay near the edge of the prison yard, Astrid quietly observed her surroundings. Meanwhile, Inside the bus, Michonne rummaged—for what, the Lancaster woman could only guess. After a while, her eyes eventually shifted to Hershel, who was standing in a distant corner on the opposite side of the yard, calling to Rick, who stood beyond the fences. Rick's presence outside those protective barriers unsettled Astrid, for he was only chasing the ghost of his beloved wife out there. Such a choice left him entirely vulnerable amidst the unknown threats that lurked beyond their sight.
Suddenly, a thud echoed from within the bus, startling Astrid. "What're you doing in there?" She called out.
Michonne's faint reply reached her ears. "Just looking stuff over," She answered. "Have any of you bothered to check this out? You should know—there's nothing left in this world that isn't hidden anymore."
Astrid's lips pursed in anticipation, curiosity coloring her tone. "Well, have you found anything?" She asked.
There was a brief pause.
"No," Michonne responded.
A playful smile touched Astrid's lips. She liked Michonne. Even when no one else did. She liked her humor and her spirit. She also seemed like someone who still had her head screwed on right. Meanwhile, Astrid acknowledged the disarray of her own thoughts. Her mind was its own dangerous labyrinth, its corridors winding unpredictably and endlessly. After her brother's death, the world had ceased making sense, and her hunter's recent departure had been a bitter twist, only making her matters that much worse.
Astrid had intentionally pushed Daryl Dixon to the periphery of her thoughts now. Evidently, her significance to him had fallen short of her expectations. Yet, she held onto the belief that his own survival was paramount. A man like him deserved to breathe, to live. She could not allow her resentments to fester to the point where she might consider his demise. That line she would never cross, even in the bleakest of times.
Besides—who knew? Perhaps in some yet uncharted universe, their paths would converge again. But for now, to survive remained Astrid Lancaster's sole mantra. As it always had.
