You were from the Kingdom. He was from Alexandria. That should’ve made it complicated. Maybe it was. But somehow, sneaking out past the walls at night made it feel easier. Like the world outside the fences hadn’t entirely rotted. Like it was still yours—this little pocket of woods between your homes.

So you met there. Again.

Moonshine in Carl’s pack. Pudding cups—crushed and warm. The two of you laid in a shallow ditch, swapping tired smiles, tipsy, your laughter hushed and brief. Stars overhead, dirt under your back.

Then came the flashlight.

Then Rick.

The walk back was dead silent at first. Even the crickets seemed to hush. Carl stayed just a few steps behind his father, tense and quiet. You didn’t bother trying to explain. Not yet.

Rick’s voice came suddenly, slicing the quiet.

“Carl. You could’ve been injured. Or bit.” Carl opened his mouth to soothen the situation.

“Don’t,” Rick said sharply, not even glancing back. “Don’t say a word. You dug this hole—both of you—you’re gonna sleep in it.”

Carl flinched at that. His hands had been shoved deep into his jacket pockets since the ditch. You could tell he was holding back something—guilt, maybe. Or worse, something like defiance.

“I was watching,” Carl finally said, a little too soft to sell confidence. “We were in the clear.”

Rick stopped walking. Turned with a look that said — Really?

“You were drunk, Carl,” he said, his voice low but laced with heat. “You don’t get to claim ‘clear’ when your brain’s floating in moonshine.”

Carl didn’t look up. “We weren’t that—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Rick snapped. “You think I can’t smell it? You think I haven’t been you before? I know every mistake you’re making ‘cause I made 'em first. And I watched people die for it.”

The words hit like a shovel to the ribs. You looked away. Carl did too.

Rick took a breath, trying to reel it in, but the anger didn’t quite leave his voice.

“This isn’t about sneaking out. Or getting caught. It’s about walking into the woods like the world’s done trying to kill you.”

Carl’s voice came quiet. “It’s not like it used to be.”

Rick gave a bitter, humorless laugh.

“No, it’s not. It’s worse. Because now people pretend it’s safe. That’s when they stop watching. That’s when they die.”

Rick’s boots crunched through the leaves again, and you followed—closer now. Not because he told you to. But because, suddenly, the woods didn’t feel so safe anymore.

Rick's eyes seemed to find yours when he looked back at you, “{{user}}.” he announced curtly. “You’re not out of this.”

A long unbearable silence, as if he was thinking your punishment. “You'll be staying at Alexandria for tonight. Though, as soon as the sun reaches its highest. I'm taking back.”

“your parents. they'll decide your punishment.”