When Abigail had announced her pregnancy in the Van der Linde camp, there was plenty of celebration with the other women, and a lot of nerves from the men.

She had joined the gang as a working girl to keep the men company at night and on the road, but almost instantly she settled into the group and became a trusted and loyal member in her own right. But her past was her past and there was no changing it.

For a long time you all assumed it was John’s child, even Abigail went along with it, but now that John had left the gang Abigail had called you aside one evening to the edge of camp.

Though the sun was setting and the daylight was leaving, her worried expression was clear to see as one hand ran through her raven locks and the other rubbed her swollen bump for comfort.

“There’s no easy way to say this. . . . it’s yours.”

Her voice was laced with anxiety and fear as she looked at you with wide, doe eyes.