"Previously on The Walking Dead" by Lady Nej

"Previously on The Walking Dead" by Nej

Rick sighs deeply as he watches Carl teach Baby Judith how to throw rocks at stuff across the camp. There was a time when he would have put a stop to such things, but these days, knowing how to aim a rock may save her life. He turns over in the tent, just in time to catch Darryl putting his pants back on. He grins. "Does Michonne know you've got those?" They both kneel as Michonne enters the tent, Darryl getting slightly tangled in his pants. She tips him over. "It's not me he needs to worry about." Darryl spots Carol at the fire and rushes out of the tent, grabbing at pants and crossbow as he goes. Rick tries not to giggle. Michonne snorts "Men wearing pants indoors, what is this world coming to." She eyes Rick up and down. "You have exactly 5 minutes to clean up, cum and meet me by the fire dressed and ready to hunt. I suggest you get started." She gives a low chuckle as she exits the tent, leaving Rick scrambling to comply....

Darryl wordlessly helps Carol gut and spit the freshly caught squirrels. "I know it was just you and Rick for a long time. And I understand that you needed the cuddles," she looks at him sideways and notes the blush starting at the tips of his ears. "Rick is a good cuddler; I'll give you that." They wordlessly continue prepping breakfast for a few minutes. "What did you use for lube out here anyway?" Darryl grins and points to the can of squirrel drippings. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, then tchs in exasperation at the grin, "Dammit, Darryl, do I need to put you in a cage?" He shakes his head, "No ma'am." Carol cuts the testicles off a particularly big male squirrel and tosses it into the fire where it sizzles before it burns. Darryl pales. She says softly, "Good boy."

Somewhere in the forest, a man in a Hazmat suit cleans off his weapons and walks away from the pile of walker corpses lying around him. He thinks about the past, and one face keeps floating to the surface. All evening long, as he removes the helmet, makes a safe camp and prepares his meager supper the face remains in the forefront of his consciousness, like a beacon in the night.... Rick. Rick. As Morgan drifts off to sleep one thought burns in his breast.. Rick.... I will return to you .. and your sweet, sweet hiney......