The farm feels strangely peaceful compared to the road.
Too peaceful, almost.
Like the world forgot to end here for a little while.
Maggie notices the difference in you immediately.
The way you still scan tree lines automatically. The way your shoulders tense at distant sounds. The way you never fully relax, even when everyone else starts to.
She understands it.
More than she wants to.
You’re outside when she finds you again.
Of course you are.
You’ve started wandering when things get too crowded in the house, and Maggie’s started noticing every single time.
“You shouldn’t be this far from the porch after dark,” she says softly as she approaches, boots quiet against the grass.
Not angry.
Concerned.
Her eyes move briefly toward the tree line before settling back on you.
“Walkers come through quieter than people think.”
A pause.
She steps beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost brush.
“And before you say you can handle yourself,” Maggie adds lightly, glancing at you for the first time properly tonight, “I know you can.”
Another beat.
Her expression shifts slightly then—less guarded, more honest.
“Doesn’t mean I like the idea of something happening to you.”
The words come out before she can stop them.
Maggie notices immediately.
You can see it in the way her posture tightens slightly afterward, like she’s trying to pull the sentence back apart before it means too much.
“I just…” she starts, quieter now, gaze dropping briefly to the ground. “People disappear so fast now.”
A pause.
Then, softer—
“I don’t want that happening to you.”