"What happened after that?"
"After that, I got stronger!" Calista answered as if it were obvious. She proudly bent her arm and let Maggie squeeze it. "Feel my muscles if you don't believe me. They're really firm now."
Maggie exclaimed, "They really are. You can't tell at all just by looking. Honestly, back at the farm, I thought you'd been trained since you were little."
Calista laughed softly. "Of course not. I used to be fragile."
Of course, that was thanks to Wildfire too.
Listening to their conversation behind him, Carver felt the back of his neck growing a little hot.
Back then... he had only thought Calista was being far too reckless and needed to understand the danger.
Maggie smiled. "Sounds like they were all strict teachers."
"Mm," Calista said, and did not say more.
After they moved a little farther, Michonne raised her fist, signaling everyone to stop.
There were targets in the clearing ahead.
"Calista, eight up ahead. Medium decay. I think they'll do," Michonne said in her low, hoarse voice.
Calista quickly assessed the surroundings and lowered her voice. "Carver, take the two on the left flank first. They're farther from the group. Michonne, draw the main group and scatter them. Maggie, watch closely."
Carver nodded and slipped silently toward the left flank.
He drew his blade swiftly, and the kukri swept through the dim forest in two almost invisible flashes of cold light.
The two walkers silently lost their jaws. The force knocked them to the ground, and Carver stepped on their backs in turn, cutting off their arms.
Almost at the same time, Michonne made a noise, and the remaining six walkers snarled as they shuffled toward her.
Then Calista moved.
She rushed toward the first walker with incredible speed, cutting in from the side. Her knife pierced in behind its ear, withdrew, then cut off both its hands before she quickly wrapped and tied it with restraints. All in one smooth motion.
By the time the walker collapsed, Calista had already turned to the next target.
Maggie followed close behind, not blinking.
She saw Calista step on a patch of slick moss while handling the third walker, causing her body to lose balance slightly.
The moment Calista adjusted her center of gravity, a dark figure shot in from the side. It was Carver.
He had not followed the plan to guard the perimeter at all. Instead, he had been moving a few steps away from Calista the entire time.
Carver grabbed the walker's swinging arm with one large, gloved hand and roughly twisted it behind its back. His other hand looped a restraint around the walker's neck with lightning speed.
He pulled hard, pinning it in place. His movements were even rougher than usual, but they were extremely efficient.
The rest went much more smoothly. Five walkers were successfully "packaged" and strung onto the tow rope.
After the fifth walker was handled, Calista had just straightened when Michonne's voice came from beside her, carrying a hint of teasing.
"Calista, that step on the moss just now wasn't as clean as last week. Have you been reading too many documents lately? Getting rusty?"
Maggie looked at Michonne in surprise.
All along the way, this woman with a katana on her back and eyes like a lone wolf had barely spoken. Now, though, she was talking to Calista in a tone that was almost teasing.
Hearing it, Calista did not get angry. Instead, she naturally gave a small roll of her eyes.
While checking whether the restraints were secure, she shot back, "Michonne, last week you twisted your wrist while cutting walkers during a trip outside. Do I need to remind you who couldn't hold a bowl steady?"
"Who?" Michonne pretended not to know. She walked to Calista's side and very naturally reached out, brushing a fallen leaf from her shoulder.
Calista let her brush away the debris and gave a soft snort.
Maggie could see it. The icy shell Michonne kept around strangers opened around Calista, even revealing a bit of closeness and teasing.
There was an unspoken understanding and trust between them.
"Maggie," Calista turned to her, interrupting her observation, "you've watched a few now. Do you understand the basic process?"
Maggie nodded. "I think I can try."
"Good. Next one is yours."
By then, Michonne had already lured over another walker. It snarled as it lunged toward them, the stench of decay rushing over.
Maggie suppressed the instinct to draw her blade and kill it. She recalled Calista's movements, stepped sideways, and tried to imitate that smooth entry.
But theory and practice were two different things.
Her dodge was half a beat too slow. The walker's claws scraped past her arm, tearing the fabric with a sharp rip.
Maggie's heart tightened, and her movement immediately went a little off.
"Don't force yourself to copy my rhythm," Calista said beside her. "Use your own. You're strong, and your footing is steadier than mine. Control it with force."
Before she finished speaking, Carver shifted beside her as if he were about to step in again, but Calista stopped him with one look.
Maggie adjusted instantly.
She stopped trying to match Calista's agility. Instead, she let out a low shout, saw the walker's momentum as it lunged, and suddenly turned sideways while slamming her shoulder hard into its ribs, knocking it off balance. At the same time, she quickly hooked a leg out and tripped it.
The walker lost its balance and fell forward.
Now.
Maggie pounced, driving her knee hard into the walker's back. She grabbed one of its flailing arms, twisted it back with force, and used her other hand to draw her blade and cut off one of its hands.
Then, under Carver's guidance, Maggie pressed down hard with her left hand, forcing the walker's head down and muffling its snarls.
She seized the chance to slip the restraint around the walker's neck with her right hand, then struggled to chop off its jaw and its other hand.
The walker thrashed with great force, and Maggie nearly used too much strength and damaged its brain.
Carver continued giving instructions, showing no intention of helping.
Sweat beaded on Maggie's forehead. She gritted her teeth and followed his directions.
Finally, just as the walker was about to break free, she successfully tied the restraint behind its back.
The walker was bound, but it still writhed violently on the ground.
Maggie let go and stood, panting. She looked down at the subdued, limbless walker on the ground. The scratches on her arm from the stones burned painfully, but a strange sense of accomplishment rose in her chest.
"Very good for a beginner," Calista said, then looked at Maggie. "You got the process right, but you still need practice. From now on, you're counted in for wall replenishment work."
Michonne also walked over, glanced at Maggie's result, and nodded, rarely offering a positive comment. "First time, and your hands didn't go soft. Your eyes didn't panic either. Not bad."
"No problem!" Maggie wiped off her sweat and smiled.
She actually liked going on missions with Calista.
The mood on the way back was relaxed.
Maggie walked beside Calista and whispered with a smile, "Your 'strict teacher' sure does protect you."
Calista was wiping her hands with a wet wipe. At that, her movement paused, and she glanced at Carver ahead of them, his broad back visible as he dragged the string of walkers.
"Habit, I guess. Leah used to be like that too, always thinking I'd bump into something or get hurt."
"It's not just habit." Maggie judged with the eye of a twenty-four-year-old who had been through several relationships. "The way he looks at you is different from how he looks at other people."
Calista stopped wiping her hands entirely.
She turned to look at Maggie. There was not much emotion in her eyes, but she did seem to be seriously thinking about it.
After a few seconds, Calista crumpled the wet wipe and stuffed it into her pocket, then said calmly, "Carver is an excellent warrior, and we're a good team. That's enough. There's too much we need to do right now."
She did not deny it, but she did not go deeper either.
Still, Maggie knew this eighteen-year-old girl saw things very clearly.
Calista was no fool. There were things she knew too.
But for her, everything had to come after survival and responsibility.
In the apocalypse, survival mattered most.
Ahead of them, Carver faintly heard that they seemed to be talking about him. As he dragged the string of walkers, his back straightened a little more without him realizing it.
...
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