𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴

Life or Death

- Cass's POV -

I return to the camp after my shower. The sun has started to set and I welcome it to bring a definitive end to my day. I toss my stuff on the floor of my tent, changing into blood-free clothes and drying my hair to the best of my ability with my towel. Despite my harsh scrubbing in the shower, I still feel Randall's blood on my skin- not letting me forget.

Joining the rest of our group outside, I throw my towel over the communal clothesline to let it air out properly, securing it with pins. The group is surrounding the lit campfire, talking in hushed voices, the crackling of the fire nearly overpowering their low volume.

It's so quiet and seemingly calm, that I barely hear Shane's voice rising just above the threshold. "I think we should execute him. He's not some innocent kid. What he said to Carl was unacceptable," Shane growls. I turn around, glaring at Shane standing by the fire as he addresses the group, his hands on his hips.

"What are you talking about?" I demand incredulously, my blood starting to boil at Shane's incredible ability to get more and more aggravating. My eyes dart around the faces of the weirdly quiet group, who either avoid my gaze or stare at the ground.

Shane whirls on me, distaste flashing across his features as he takes me in. "Oh yeah, I forgot you were off god-knows-where while Carl gave our prisoner a visit," Shane spits bitterly, giving me a dirty look. My gut wrenches and I glance at Rick, who stares into the fire with a clenched jaw, a quiet Carl beside him.

"Carl, why-" I begin breathlessly, my heart pounding.

"Because y'all decided Randall is some innocent kid. Glenn told me more details about the men you encountered. Is it really that much of a surprise Randall's not some angel?" Shane challenges me angrily making me gulp under his harsh gaze. He has a point. We didn't consider if Randall was like those other men, we were just trying to save him.

"We can't afford to let just anyone into our camp. Into our family," Shane urges roughly, looking back to the group, trying to emphasize his point.

"Do you hear yourself? We can't just kill him! Is that who we are?" Dale contests Shane with an incredulous expression. My eyes flit to Dale beside the fire, gaping up at Shane in disbelief. "Who are we to decide if he should live? We can't be the jury and executioner. Really people," Dale mutters, shaking his head to himself in disappointment. I suddenly feel like a kid being chastised by my father.

Shane scoffs. "This isn't some philosophical decision, Dale. It's life or death," he debates, crossing his arms with a huff. Dale just continues to shake his head sadly.

"Dale's got a point, Shane," Andrea utters carefully, sparing a glance at the fuming man standing in front of her.

"I just didn't think this was who we were. We took in Cassandra. She saved Sophia and Carl and continues to be a valuable addition that I couldn't imagine not having around. What if we listened to you then?" Dale questions Shane, who just looks away in frustration, shaking his head.

I'm not sure using me of all people as an example would convince Shane of anything. Despite that, I can't help my heart warming at Dale's kind words. I've been concerned, especially after the reveal of my lying, that I wasn't entirely accepted as a useful part of the group.

Dale glances at me, offering me a kind look, before turning back to Shane and standing up carefully, dusting off his cargo pants. He spares the group a meaningful look before speaking again. "Just- think it through. It's not just your life you're debating," Dale finishes slowly and purposefully, pausing to look at all of us once again, then turning to go off on a walk. He strolls out into the open pasture slowly, glancing up at the stars.