Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
“You did. When you agreed to go on that run alone, all because Rick said. He’s not even the leader anymore, Daryl…”
“Only reason people look to him is because he was a cop. People tend to look towards authority for some sense on what to do. Rick’s done all right by me, by all of us. You’d be wise to accept that.”
"I don’t care what he says, Daryl. Going on your own is just plain stupid. You’re going to get yourself killed. I don’t need to lose another person that I l—” She cut herself off. “Just please…”
“I got it handled.” He paused, turning to leave before voiding his movement, facing her again.
“Nine lives, remember?”
She recognized that quote before. She’d said it, when he told her to stay safe. Of course, he’d been the one leaving then, too.
She watched after him, and then walked forward, grabbing his arm. She didn’t say anything, just held his gaze with her own tear filled one.
“Lemme go.” he said softly. “An’ stop that cryin’. I’ll be back before the sun goes down.”
Carol just shook her head. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him and sniffling. “You can’t promise that…”
"I won’t promise that.” When she wrapped around him, he stood still. “Just a run into town, been through worse shit before.”
