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stats : three weeks later GREY KINGSTON
late november is different this year. it still feels like the beginning of fall with the sun hot during the day and a crisp breeze floating in the air. the wind chill picks up and the temperature drops after sunset, but for the 12 hours before that, the weather fools us, makes us think another harsh winter isn't just around the corner.
we wear layers nonetheless. today i chose a white sweater to go under my black pea coat i keep unbuttoned. judith's coat is thicker and zipped. she holds onto me, her arms around my neck as i carry her.
it's a nice day out, everyone's doing something outdoors—cleaning the solar panels, working on the makeshift carriages we use for transportation, walking the kids to morning school, gardening.
my footfalls slow on the cement as the tall, tanned figure in the garden catches my eye.
negan—his hair is peppered with gray, sweat glistening across his forehead as he rakes the dirt.
he doesn't evoke as much fear in people now, it's more judgment than anything. he lives a quiet life here in alexandria with most people choosing to ignore his existence until there's a problem, then he's the first to be blamed, all fingers pointed at him even when he's innocent. he's been here for barely two months, and when a few shelves of the pantry got ransacked 4 weeks ago, negan was the first to be blamed.
it was an unfair accusation as it turns out daryl's house just has mice and they've been hiding in a hole in the wall in the garage that makes up our communal pantry. still, negan didn't yell, or threaten anyone or do anything like he might've done three years ago. he was civilized, told us he didn't do it—"no man craves that much loose sweet corn in the middle of the night." when we ruled it out as a mice infestation, negan flashed us his infamous grin, walked out of the town hall, and went on like nothing ever happened.
he's still earning our trust, but he's gotten a hell of a lot farther than we ever thought he'd get.
"thank you," i stop beside the grass of the garden. negan turns around at the sound of my voice. "you're always out here. it doesn't go unnoticed."
he straightens his posture, letting out a sigh as he takes a short break, "these crops need all the help they can get." his gaze falls to judith who's turned to look at him. he smiles and waves at her.
i watch as she smiles too before turning around quickly, hiding her face in my neck. something in my heart aches as i hear her laugh, negan finding her shyness cute and amusing too. i wish she could smile at rick that way, laugh with him. i wish he could see her now, how big she's gotten.
"you and carl going for another car-run?" he asks, resuming raking over the dirt, drawing neat, straight lines in it.
we ran out of gasoline seven, maybe eight months ago. bullets were the first resource to go, our supply was dwindling long before gasoline became scarce. it was only a matter of time before we drained every abandoned car in a 100-mile radius around alexandria of its gas. every car we come across now only has a few drops left in its tank. it's enough to drive home, but not enough to take out anywhere after that. we had to get crafty, use our horses more; take out the seats in cars and make carriages with them, reins attached for the horses to lead.
