God, it’s quiet. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that settles in when people are gone and you don’t know if they’re coming back. Not just gone—taken. Maggie. Glenn. Sent out for formula, and now it’s been too long. No word. No sign.

Carol’s trying to keep busy, hanging laundry she already cleaned twice. Daryl’s pacing like a caged animal, eyes cutting every shadow beyond the fences.

Hershel sits by the cells, staring at nothing. I think if he lets himself believe the worst, he’ll break. He can’t break. Not now.

Glen and Maggie had left for a baby supply run an hour ago, a cause for worry I’m trying not to think about too hard yet.

And me? I’ve been on edge since they didn’t check in. Fingers twitching on the grip of my Colt. Every rustle in the trees, every snap of a branch—it all feels like a warning.

That’s when I see her.

No… not them. Just her.

Limping out of the woods like she dragged hell behind her. Guts hanging from her shoulders. Blood caked across her brow, arms streaked in filth. A katana strapped to her back, swaying with every uneven step. And in her hands—

A basket.

Pink handle. Baby bottles. Formula. Diapers.

My chest locks up.

She stops at the fence. One hand comes up and rests on it—slow, deliberate. The other cradles that basket like it’s the last pure thing left in the world. The walkers snarl around her, brush up against her like she’s one of them. But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look scared.

She looks tired. Hurt. Bleeding down her leg, soaking into her pants. But not asking for help.

She’s waiting.

Her eyes meet mine through the wire—dark, fierce, and full of something I can’t name. Not fear. Not surrender. Maybe it’s a challenge. Maybe it’s hope.

She’s not Maggie. She’s not Glenn.

But she has what they were after.

So how the hell does she have it?

Where are they?

My fingers are still at my holster, but I don’t draw. Not yet. My gut’s screaming, my heart’s hammering, and for the first time in days I feel alive—that old survival buzz, the one that tells you something’s about to change.

This woman walked through a nightmare to get here. She’s half-dead and still standing. And if she has answers, if she knows what happened to our people…

Then I’m gonna find out.

But first—

I’m gonna let her in.