Something she couldn't name—something dark. It wasn't the kind of thing you talked about out loud. So, she didn't. She kept it quiet, locked beneath all the soft edges people liked to see.

But it was always there.

A dog—wild and starved—lived inside her throat. It clawed at the walls of her kindness, always biting, always restless. It wanted out. And if she ever let it loose, if she ever let it bark—God help her, it would never stop. It would snarl, tear, devour everything soft about her. She knew that.

So, she kept it locked up. Even when it burned. Even when it hurt. And as an apology—for what, she didn't know—she did the right things. She helped. She gave. She prayed.

If you asked anyone, they'd say she was the sweetest girl they knew. And when Lottie heard it, she'd smile—because that's what you're supposed to do when people call you good. But inside, that dog would bite down harder.

Because no matter how much she gave—no matter how soft she seemed—there was still something rotten underneath. And she didn't know if it was ever going to go away.

Maybe that's why she was out here. Maybe helping Carol find her daughter was her way of keeping the dog quiet. Of telling herself she was still good.

Because even if the world had ended—hope hadn't. At least, she wanted to believe it hadn't.

She landed back into reality and realized that Daryl had gotten far ahead of her. The woods stretched long between them, and for a moment, she just watched him—the way he moved, sharp and certain, like he was made for this world. Like he belonged to it more than she ever could.

She shook the thought away and hurried to catch up, her boots pressing into the damp earth.

"How do you do this?" she asked when she finally reached him, still breathless from the run.

Daryl turned his head slightly, giving her a puzzled glance. "Do what?"

"Know so much about the woods. How to hunt, track... just—" she gestured vaguely at their surroundings, at everything that felt like a foreign language to her. "Did you live out here or something?"

His expression shifted into something unimpressed, like she'd just suggested he'd been raised by wolves. "Lived in the woods a few days, yeah. That what you wanna hear?"

She blinked up at him, tilting her head. "A few days? That's it?"

He gave a slow, irritated sigh, like he already regretted answering.

"What'd you lose out there?" she asked, genuinely curious now.

"It's a long story," he muttered.

She only smiled. "We got time."

Daryl exhaled through his nose but didn't argue. Maybe because he knew she wasn't gonna drop it. Maybe because, deep down, he didn't really mind telling her.

He kept walking as he talked, voice rough and clipped, but she listened closely. And when he finished, Lottie stopped. Daryl barely had a second to react before she burst into laughter—loud and sudden, the kind that came straight from the gut. She doubled over, clutching her stomach.

"Oh my god, I'm literally dying," she gasped between breaths. "That is so funny—"

"Not funny to me," Daryl grumbled.

"I—I can't—" She wiped at the tears in her eyes, still laughing.

Daryl just shook his head and kept walking.

Lottie, grinning, fell into step beside him.

They moved in silence for a while, the trees towering around them like something ancient and knowing. Then, up ahead, something took shape through the branches. A house.

Lottie slowed, taking it in.

The wood had faded into a dull, peeling gray, and the windows were jagged with cracks, their edges like broken teeth. The whole thing looked like it had been swallowed by time—abandoned and half-forgotten, like something out of a gothic novel.

Her mother used to say, Every house has a story to tell, whether big or small. There were souls who built it—not just with their hands, but with their hearts. And if you stand still long enough, you can feel the echoes of them. You can feel what's been left behind.

And Lottie did feel it.

Something heavy clung to the house—an aura, like a breath caught in the throat of the world. It made her shiver.

"You coming or what?" Daryl's voice broke through her thoughts.

She hesitated. "Are you sure we should go in? I mean—anything could happen."

She barely had time to finish the sentence before Daryl kicked the door open.

Lottie sighed. "Never mind."

Inside, the air was thick with dust and something stale—something that smelled like time itself. The wooden floor groaned beneath their boots as they moved through the darkened space.

Lottie started to speak, but Daryl raised a hand, signaling for silence. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

They searched through the rooms, Daryl moving with quiet efficiency, Lottie trailing behind. Then, in the corner of what might've once been a kitchen, Daryl crouched near the trash and picked up a dented can.

Lottie wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Why are you touching that? It was in the trash."

"It's new," Daryl muttered, turning the can in his hand. "Somebody lives here."

Lottie's stomach twisted. She stepped closer to him without thinking. "Then let's get out of here before we end up being the next meal."

She nudged his arm lightly before turning and heading toward the door. Daryl didn't argue.

Outside, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called, "Sophia!"

His voice echoed through the trees, but there was no answer.

Lottie stepped up beside him. That's when she saw the flower.

A single Cherokee Rose, blooming against the ruin of the house.

She moved closer, kneeling beside it. "Cherokee Rose," she murmured, touching the fragile petals with her fingertips. "It has a whole myth behind it. For a lot of Native Americans, wild roses were symbols of life. They believed it was a sign that God was protecting their children."

Daryl eyed her. "How the hell d'you know that?"

She glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I read."

He hummed, like he wasn't sure if he was impressed or just mildly annoyed.

Then, without a word, he bent down, plucked the flower, and tucked it into an empty beer bottle he'd found.

"For Carol?" Lottie asked softly.

Daryl nodded.

Something warm settled in her chest.

As they started heading back to the farm, she noticed the way Daryl's pace quickened.

"Why are you walking so fast?" she called after him.

"You're walkin' slow," he shot back.

She narrowed her eyes. "No, I'm not."

"Sure," he said, in a way that made it clear he thought otherwise.

She caught up beside him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Then, her lips curved into a knowing smile. "You know, it's really sweet—what you do for Carol."

Daryl glanced at her but didn't respond.

Lottie smirked. "Do you like her?"

"There ain't nothin' sweet about it," he muttered.

She stepped in front of him, walking backward so she could face him. "You didn't answer the question. Do you like her?"

Daryl sighed, long and exasperated. "No. And watch where you're goin' before you—"

At that exact moment, Lottie's foot caught on a rock, and before she could stop herself, she stumbled backward and landed flat on her ass.

Daryl snorted.

Lottie groaned, rubbing her lower back. Before he could get a word in, she shot him a look. "Don't."

His smirk deepened as he extended a hand to help her up.

"I told you," he said, grinning just enough to be infuriating. "And you ain't listenin'."

Lottie sighed dramatically but took his hand anyway, letting him pull her up.

She dusted herself off as they kept walking, and maybe—just maybe—she caught the faintest hint of amusement still lingering on Daryl's face.

As the trees thinned and the farm came into view, Lottie spotted Maggie standing near the fence, arms crossed like she'd been waiting. The sight of her sister made something tight in her chest loosen, but she didn't rush ahead—not yet. She glanced over at Daryl instead, watching as he walked a little ahead, quiet and sharp-edged like always.

"You gonna give Carol the rose now?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Daryl didn't look at her. "Ain't your business," he muttered, shifting the crossbow on his shoulder.

Lottie rolled her eyes, but there was warmth behind it. "I was just asking. No need to bite my head off."

He huffed but didn't answer, eyes scanning the tree line like he was still half-expecting something to jump out.

A few steps later, she slowed, tilting her head at him. "Well... guess this is where I leave you." Her voice was soft, a little teasing.

Daryl finally spared her a glance, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. Sure."

She took a couple of steps backward toward the farm, but something tugged at her, keeping her there a second longer. With a small smile curling at her lips, she said, "And hey—don't think I'll forget what you told me. About the woods. That story's gonna stick with me forever."

He shook his head, lips twitching like he couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or amused. "Ain't much of a story."

"Maybe not to you," she said, her voice light as air.

Daryl just grunted, gaze already pulling away from her like the conversation didn't matter. But as she turned around, she caught the slight hitch in his step—like maybe it did.

Without another word, Lottie jogged toward Maggie, a smile breaking across her face as she wrapped her arms around her sister. When she peeked back, Daryl was already moving toward the house, head down, like he couldn't be bothered. But he still had the rose tucked in the bottle, holding it like it meant something, even if he'd never say it out loud.

As Lottie pulled away from Maggie's arms, her laughter still clung to her lips, sweet and light. For a fleeting second, the world outside the woods didn't feel so heavy. The smell of earth and blood faded beneath the warmth of being home—or as close to home as anything could be these days. She let herself linger in that feeling, if only for a breath longer.

But Maggie's face softened into something else—something heavier. She leaned in, voice quiet but certain. "There's something I need to tell you."

Lottie's brows lifted, but she only nodded. "Okay..."

Without another word, they slipped into the farmhouse, the door creaking softly behind them. It felt different stepping inside—warmer than the air outside but still marked by the quiet hum of fear. Lottie followed her sister upstairs, her heart knocking against her ribs, like whatever Maggie had to say might tip the day sideways again.

Maggie's room still smelled faintly like apples and soap. Lottie dropped onto the bed, curling her legs beneath her like she belonged there. Maggie, though—she stayed standing. Arms crossed tight. Shoulders squared. Whatever it was, it was big.

"So," Maggie began, words measured, "I was in town today. Went on a run."

Lottie tilted her head, curiosity flickering through her. "Okay? Cool," she said, stretching out the word like she was waiting for the punchline.

Maggie's weight shifted from one foot to the other. She hesitated—then took a breath like she was about to jump. "With Glenn," she said, the words heavy between them.

Lottie's lips curved. "Really?" she asked, teasing warmth in her voice. "He's nice. How was it?"

Maggie dropped her guard for a second—long enough for the words to come tumbling out, quick and breathless. "We had sex."

Silence hung heavy.

"WHAT—" Lottie shot up, eyes wide, her voice bouncing off the walls. "Oh my God! What? How? In town? Where the hell—Maggie!"

Her laughter spilled out like water breaking free from a dam—loud, bright, unrestrained.

Maggie flushed. "It was in the store," she admitted, looking half-annoyed, half-amused.

"The store?" Lottie gasped, still giggling. "Maggie. Really? What—were you just like, oh yeah, apocalypse—perfect time to do it in aisle three?"

"Shut up," Maggie groaned, her face burning. "Or I'm gonna push you off my bed."

Lottie leaned back, hand to her heart, still breathless from laughter. "Yeah, sure, Maggie Rhee—" Before she could finish, Maggie shoved her. Hard.

The floor caught her like it had been waiting.

"Ow!" Lottie groaned, sprawled across the wood. "MAGGIE, you bitch!" But her laughter didn't stop—it rang through the room, tangled with the warmth that only belonged to sisters.

Sisterhood was like that.Soft and sharp in the same breath.A love so bright it burned.No one else knew how to push you down and lift you up in the same heartbeat—To fight with you like a rival, but guard your secrets like their own.

And in a world where everything crumbled, it was a promise you could still hold onto.

Maggie smirked down at her, but something softer flickered behind her eyes. She waited until Lottie dragged herself back onto the bed before her voice dipped lower. More careful.

"Hey," she said, quiet now. "I mean it.
Don't tell anyone." Her face had sharpened into something serious. "I'm not joking—swear on it."

Lottie's laughter faded, something heavier settling in her chest. "I swear," she promised, and she meant it.

Maggie's lips parted, but it took a moment for the words to come. When they did, they felt heavier than anything else that had passed between them.

"Lori's pregnant," she whispered.

It hung there—cold and unyielding.

For a moment, Lottie couldn't breathe around it.

A child. In this world.

It was supposed to be a miracle—wasn't it? But here, it felt like something else. Something fragile. Something terrifying.

Life still grew, even where it had no right to.

A baby—soft and helpless—born into a world that chewed through innocence like it was nothing. What kind of life was that?

And yet—What if hope was stitched into the shape of a heartbeat too small to survive on its own?What if even the broken earth could still give something back?Maybe not everything had to die here.Maybe some things—some people—were still worth saving.

"What..." Lottie's voice caught. "I don't know what to say."

She shook her head, curling her arms around her knees. "Poor kid," she murmured. "Poor Lori—having to bring a baby into this mess. And... poor baby—having to live in it."

Maggie let out a breath like she'd been holding it too long. "Yeah," she admitted softly. "It's gonna be hard for her."

They fell quiet, lost in thoughts too heavy to speak aloud."But maybe—" Lottie swallowed, her voice raw. "Maybe it's not all bad. Maybe... it's a reason to keep going."Maggie didn't answer right away. She just watched her sister, something unreadable flickering in her gaze. And then—soft, but sure—she said, "Yeah. Maybe."

Lottie stretched her legs out, tipping her head back against the wall. Even with the weight of it all pressing down, there was comfort in knowing she wasn't carrying it alone.

And as the afternoon light spilled through the window, catching in the strands of Maggie's dark hair, Lottie realized something—

No matter how much the world fell apart, as long as they had each other, it would never take everything

.Not yet.

The room was calm, with only the soft hum of music drifting through the air and the occasional rustle of the wind outside. Maggie lay on her back, staring out the window, while Lottie sat on the edge of the bed, tapping her fingers on the sheets, her mind clearly working through something.

"Maggie," Lottie finally broke the silence, her voice soft but deliberate. "I'm gonna say something, but please—don't judge me."

Maggie, still lying back, raised an eyebrow but didn't turn to her. "Okay, I'm listening. What's up?"

Lottie hesitated for a moment before speaking quickly, almost shyly, her eyes on the floor. "Do you think Daryl... looks good?"

There was a beat of silence before Maggie burst into laughter. "Wait, what? You think Daryl looks good?"

Lottie quickly threw her hands up, defensively. "No! I mean, yes! I don't know, maybe?"

Maggie sat up, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh my God, you're asking me if Daryl Dixon looks good? Well, I mean, he's got that rugged thing going on, but..." She threw her hands up dramatically. "He's definitely not my type, but I get it. You're looking at the guy and thinking, 'Yeah, he's got that something.'"

Lottie crossed her arms, trying to act like it didn't bother her, but the corners of her mouth were turning up. "I'm just saying... there's something there, you know? His eyes... and the way he carries himself..."

Maggie tilted her head, a teasing grin creeping up. "So, you think he's hot?"

Lottie flushed slightly, but she held her ground. "I don't know, maybe? I mean, he's older, and... well, maybe the older the better, right?"

Maggie snorted. "Oh my God, you did not just say that." She sat up fully now, clearly enjoying herself. "Lottie Greene, you're saying that about Daryl Dixon?"

Lottie rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a laugh. "What? I'm just saying. He's not bad looking. You said it yourself—he's got that 'vibe.'"

Maggie leaned back on her elbows, shaking her head, still smiling. "You're killing me. But fine, I get it. He's got the rugged, older guy thing going on. Not my thing, but whatever."

Lottie grinned back, now fully relaxed. "I swear, Maggie, you're impossible."

"I'm just saying," Maggie chuckled, "I'm not judging you for thinking he's... whatever he is, but girl, you just got here, and you're already eyeing up the older guy. Classic."

Lottie burst out laughing, holding her stomach. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"I know," Maggie smirked. "But I'm not judging. Just don't come crying to me if you get your heart broken by the brooding guy in the woods."

"Pfft, as if," Lottie said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not getting my heart broken by anyone. But I'll let you know if that changes."

They both laughed, the tension of the conversation slipping away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, in their shared space, teasing and laughing, the world outside seeming a little less heavy.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :
Pls comment and vote this chapter

Sooooo I don't know if I really like this chapter but we finally meet darylll so did you like them together ?

And if you want to see something specific then write it down

And I made it longer like a lot more longer as you see keep it this way or change it to shorter ?

They are so sunshine and grumpy coded I love it