𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | TWD [Book 1]

LI. The Midnight Sky

As the first rays of morning sunlight caressed the sky, the four of them found themselves once more in the heart of the woods, surrounded by the tranquil embrace of nature. Carol, with a cunning prowess, stealthily extracted the firearms from the pantry, where the chaos of the festive party had diverted everyone's attention, allowing her to slip away unnoticed.

The ambient sounds of rustling leaves and the distant calls of birds created a symphony as the trio gathered, their clandestine meeting point hidden amidst the towering trees. Carol, with a subtle nod, conveyed the gravity of their situation as she handed over the pilfered weapons, each one gleaming under the soft morning light.

Although, after Aaron's words at the dinner, Daryl found himself grappling with doubt regarding their initial plan. The uncertainty crept in, leaving both Rick and Carol slightly confused by the unexpected turn of events.

He ultimately opted not to take the guns, a choice that raised eyebrows and triggered a sense of worry in both Rick and Carol. As Daryl nonchalantly walked away, the unspoken tension between them intensified as Rick and Carol tried and sway Madeleine, attempting to convince her to get Daryl back in line with their initial strategy. However, their efforts fall on deaf ears as Madeleine remained steadfast in her husband's decision.

"This is sick," Carl remarks, his fingers crunching down on a handful of crisps as he nonchalantly surveys Daryl's bike repair efforts. Deciding he wants in on the action, he swallows a mouthful and leans in, curiosity gleaming in his eye. "Can you teach me how to ride it?"

Daryl grunts, the sound of metal meeting metal echoing in the air as he tightens a stubborn screw on the bike. His eyes flicker briefly towards Carl. "Gotta ask your sister."

Rolling his eyes with a frustrated groan, Carl shifts his weight. Crumbs fall from his fingers as he protests, "Come on, you know she won't let me."

A dismissive snort escapes Daryl as he continues working, his attention solely on the mechanical task at hand. "Ain't my problem, kid. What she says goes." He gestures towards the tool-laden box nearby. "Pass me that, will ya?"

Carl sighs, a mix of resignation and determination in the exhale. He rises to his feet, crisps momentarily forgotten, and retrieves a screwdriver from the toolbox. Handing it over to Daryl, who accepts it without breaking focus, Carl makes a half-hearted plea, "I promise I'll keep it a secret."

"Tell you what?" Daryl grumbles, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he stubbornly focuses on fixing the bike. The persistent questioning from Carl needles at his patience. "When I get done fixing the other bike," he finally relents, "you can ride with me around the neighborhood."

The garage is filled with the scent of grease and the clinks of tools as Daryl labors over the another motorcycle they salvaged during their last run. He has been dedicating himself to restoring it, each bolt tightened with meticulous care. Despite his efforts, there's a missing element that eludes him, preventing the bike from roaring to life.