Chapter Text
Looking back, Carl will never understand how such an ordinary day went so wrong so quickly.
Rhiannon flits down from his shoulder, shifting from hawk to some sort of hound dog. Hershel is up and walking, slowly but surely and Carl knows that in this world you take the little victories you can find. Somewhere in his gut, a voice cries that it shouldn’t be like this, but he smothers it ruthlessly. Thoughts like that get you dead, and he can’t, he won’t, turn on his family. Rhiannon wuffs at Maire, playfully bowing her chest down to the dirt. Carl smiles, big, so big it hurts a little, as the huge white dog (a Great Pyrenees, he remembered. They were livestock guardians and she was perfect for Hershel) slowly limps after the younger pup.
“Alright Hershel!” they hear Glen shout from the fence line. His Racoon dog is chirping happily, fluffy tail wriggling in joy.
The joy is written across everyone’s face as Maire gains speed and Rhi shifts into a speedy kitten to bat at Hershel’s shoelaces and Maire’s tail. Despite what Carl imagines Daryl’s face of disapproval, Deidre lets out a bright howl, the sound echoed by Maggie’s Padraig and Beth’s Benignus. Carl grins at Hershel’s who’s puffing softly in exertion, but the old man still threw him a kindly, almost grandfatherly smile. Beth keeps pace with her dad, sunny smile on her face. “You’re doin’ great Daddy” she cheers. Benignus chirps in agreement, shining almost pure silver in the Georgie sunlight.
“Ready to race, Hershel?” Carl asks. He knows that he can’t, but it makes Maire laugh and Hershel smile, so it’s worth it to sound stupid. “Oh, give me another day” Hershel says with a grin, “I’ll take you on” he promised.
Rhi purred loudly, twining around Maire’s legs in joy. Carl smiled, relishing the easy, steady happiness that his Dæmon looped back to him through her touch of Maire.
Carl and Rhi shared a soft sigh. It’s been too long since they had felt the easy affection of another soul against his. Rhiannon had been refusing to let Clíodna close her since…well just Since. But Carl hadn’t wanted to let Mom and Carwyn close either so they were just stuck with nothing. Rhiannon chirped, ‘we’re never alone. We have each other, we have Hershel and Maire, Beth and Maggie and their Dæmons’ she reminded. ‘We’ve got Carol and Jericho and Daryl and Deidre. We’re not alone’ she promised, sounding wiser than her years. She was like that a lot more often these days, ever since they fled the Farm. She’d sounded older, more worn, and had lost the scraggly feathers of young birds and soft fluffy fur in trade for sleek plumage and muscles hidden under thick pelts. She was growing fast, the way that Daryl and Carol said Columba had changed before they got lost in the woods with Sophia.
Carl could spot Sophia and Columba with Daryl by the fence line. She waved at him, and he tentatively raised a hand back.
Ever since she’d come back from the woods with Columba Settled as a massive fucking snow leopard, everyone treated her different. Like all of the sudden she was an adult. She got to work on the fences, Daryl and Deidre took her out to teach her hunting and tracking. They got to carry their own pistol, even though he was the better shot. He didn’t get it, after the farm he and Rhi hadn’t understood why Sophia, who got lost for fucks sake, suddenly got to do all this stuff while he didn’t.
It’s been a long few months since then, and maybe he understood better now.
Sophia and Columba thought things through. They waited and learned before doing, which he and Rhi usually didn’t. He used to think that Dæmons Settling was just some weird quirk, that age was the real indicator of being grown up. He thinks he was wrong.
Sophia is more grown than he is, but as he looks down at Rhi, who sat as a sleek pelted cougar, that maybe he was finally catching up. He’d been ready to deal with Hershel, had looked after his mom and Beth. He was learning to listen. And now Rhi was catching up to Columba.
Carl pets between Rhi’s soft downy ears. Everyone seems frozen, just taking in the moments of peace as a family. Because that’s what they were now, Family. And family looks out for one another, they didn’t go guns blazing trying to out do their friends, or punish their parents for things they couldn’t control. Rhi chuffed under his hand, tail flicking in agreement. Carl could see that her coat was still soft, teeth still milk white. They still had some growing to do, but maybe they were getting closer.
So of course, as soon as he has this revelation, it all goes to shit.
It’s Rhiannon who senses them first. Her panic sends alarm bells clanging through Carl’s body as his heart drops out of his chest. The cougar changes to a sharp eyed crow, darting high to get a count of how many there were in the yard. They can hear Dad and Clíodna screaming, catch a glimpse of Daryl and Deidre racing like the wind, Sophia and Columba got on their heels. He keeps his gun level, like Shane had taught him even though his skin crawls with the feeling of Rhi being so far away. The higher she goes, the more his chest burns like the bullet wound is opening all over again, but he can’t stop, he can’t panic. Not with Mom and his baby brother or sister behind him.
Rhiannon voice thrums through him, ‘Carl, there’s too many of them!’ she caws in fear. She darts down to peck at a Walker’s eyes, her Dust of no interest to the hungry, snapping creatures.
He feels his shoulders loosen when Padraig comes flying in, tackling a Walker to the ground and snapping bones and sinew in his powerful jaws. The arrival of the German Shepherd means that at least Maggie’s here to help, probably with Carol, Jericho, T-Dog and Savannah close behind.
His skin feels like it’s crawling with bugs, his ears ringing like standing too close to a gunshot.
Rhi drops to his feet as a snarling tiger, and he can’t tell if seeing the ghost of Delilah at his side is helping or not right now, but her fangs are strong and her paws hit like hammers as she clears a path towards Mom and Maggie. He lost sight of Hershel and Beth, but he can’t stop right now. Not with Rhiannon’s single minded determination dragging him along like a puppet as they heard Mom and Carwyn inside the prison.
Inside, they follow Rhiannon without a word. Even Carwyn, who was still trying to baby his Dæmon-daughter and human child followed the great tigress without complaint.
Maggie holds her gun loosely, and takes the rear with Padraig herding them along. Rhiannon can feel a joke on the tip of her tongue, but she saves it. Now isn’t the time for jokes. Not with the way Mom’s eyes have gone wide and hunted and the way Carwyn bares his teeth, ear folded back and gums exposed in the purely animal expression of fear. The thick coat of the Nebelung cat is puffed out in anxiety and Rhiannon feels her own tail thrash in answer. Something is coming, like the way the air rattles her Dust before a storm.
Rhiannon has a bad feeling she won’t be able to weather this one.
She can taste the change in the air when it happens, when her sharp feline eye pick up the barest glimmer of gold in the air around Mom, swirling and dancing around her belly like snowflakes in the wind. Padraig can see it too, a loud whine escaping the toffee eyed dog as the realization of what it means sinks in.
Mom’s cry of pain, Carwyn plastered against her leg, purring in sympathy get Carl and Maggie’s attention. They can’t see the Dust the way they can, but even their dull human sense can feel what’s coming.
Their baby brother or sister sure can pick their moment.
So, of course, panic ensues as they come to terms with reality. Mom is in labour, baby is coming, they’re in Walker infested halls and Hershel and Carol aren’t here. Not a great situation to be in overall. With more surety than she feels, Rhiannon pushes onwards, remembering a small mechanical room in the area she’d passed with Dad and Clíodna. With luck the door latch was still secure and they could hide there for a while.
Mom stumbles and Maggie rushes to catch her, and Rhiannon scoops up Carwyn by his scruff with all the care her monstrous jaws are capable of. The grey cat yowls tightly as Maggie starts helping Mom out of her pants.
Carl is twitchy, muzzle of his pistol tapping against his thigh. He knows how out of his depth he is, and so does Rhiannon.
Mom moans, a low guttural sound and Rhiannon tries to steel herself, and Carl by extension, for what’s coming next.