rick and stowey had heard her howl and started for the cars, ordering people to get in and drive away, lori and carl and the young baby the little boy got in one car with rick and fen and saila and sophia, and saila's pup, and glenn and coral. lily and daryl told them to leave and they would find them, lily bark to let daryl know to shift to his wolf, he tossed down his bow and lily pick it up in her mouth and they rush off through woods, following the last known wearabouts of the car.
daryl shifted mid stride, his clothes shredding as fur sprouted, bones cracking and reforming. he landed on four paws beside lily, who dropped the bow at his feet. she nosed it toward him—useless now, but a reminder. the scent trail was faint, gasoline and fear overlaid with damp earth. they moved low through the underbrush, ears flat. ahead, the rumble of engines faded, swallowed by distance. lily's thoughts brushed his: *left at the creek bed. they're circling back toward the highway.* daryl growled agreement, muscles coiling.
a branch snapped. both wolves froze. twenty yards ahead, three figures stumbled through the brush—not walkers. humans. ragged, armed with pipes and a rusty shovel. one coughed, spitting phleg they two wolves decide to run past them, they would soon die, the three of them smelted to death... lily could no long hear or smell the cars, her ears twitch and lowered to her head as the came to a house that smell of no walkers or humans.... they both went inside.
The ragged two stop inside the room and lily shift and shut the door daryl and lily sat down on the old dirty couch and sat there in silence.
lily cross her arms and tried to reach out to fen in her mind.... 'Fen.... fen... you there...'
'fen, if you can hear me reply.... tell me where your going' she said
she waited for a few second before pushing out harder and ' fen please... daryl and i are find... but we need to know where you are... please' she pushed out again and sat back on the couch.
Daryl shifted beside her, the worn springs groaning under his weight. "Anything?" His voice was gravel, stripped raw from the run. Lily shook her head, staring at the peeling cabbage palm wallpaper—its faded greens bleeding into yellows like old bruises. Silence thickened, broken only by the drip of rainwater from a cracked ceiling tile into a chipped mug on the floor. *Plink. Plink.* Each drop echoed the hollow space where Fen's thoughts should've been. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. Optimism felt like a frayed rope, but she gripped it anyway. "He's alive," she insisted, more to herself than Daryl. "He's just... out of range."
Outside, wind hissed through the pines. Daryl's ears pricked—wolf-sharp even in human form. "Hear that?"
Lily strained. Not engines. Not Fen. Just the creak of branches and the distant, guttural moan of a walker. "Dead thing," she dismissed.
"Maybe." Daryl stood abruptly, pacing to the grime-streaked window. "Or bait." His finger traced a splintered bullet hole in the frame. "Those three we passed smelled wrong. Sick. Not just hungry."
Lily frowned. "You think they're setting traps?"
"Wouldn't you? If you were starving?" He turned, eyes hard. "We need to move. Fen's trail's cold, but the highway's our best shot. They're heading south—toward the coast."
they way the cars left in.. " ill keep trying to mind-link fen" lily said and shifted into her wolf form.
the two of the dart from the house in the way the cars had when trying to catch up to fen and rick and the others.
The wind whipped through Lily's fur as she bounded beside Daryl, asphalt blurring beneath their paws. Pumpjacks dotted the distant hills like skeletal sentinels, their rhythmic groans lost beneath the rush of blood in her ears. *Left at the creek bed,* Daryl's thought sliced through her focus. *They'd circle toward the highway.* She pushed harder, lungs burning. The scent of the convoy was gone—drowned by gasoline fumes and the metallic tang of rusted machinery and the decay in the air. lily decide to try again and mind-link her second mate. ' fen please are you their?' she call out in her head but even with this amount of distance from the house she got nothing back.... she growled and kept running.
Daryl slowed abruptly at the highway's edge, ears flattened against his skull. Lily skidded beside him, claws scraping concrete. The road stretched empty both ways, littered with abandoned cars and bleached bones. Silence pressed down, thick and unnatural. No engines, no distant howls. Just the wind keening through shattered windshields. "Anything?" Daryl's voice rasped mentally. Lily shook her muzzle. The mind-link remained stubbornly void—no flicker of Fen's presence, no echo of Sophia's laughter or Coral's fussing. Only static. this graveyard of cars could hide anything in it. walkers, enemy humans. but it was clear their group came through here, cars was push around to make just enough room for cars to get through it.
Lily padded toward a muddy SUV overturned near the median. Fresh tire tracks gouged the dirt—deep, frantic grooves cutting south. She sniffed: gasoline, Sophia's faded strawberry shampoo, Saila's pup's milky breath. And beneath it, something acrid. Chemical. Like bleach burning the back of her throat. "They were here," she sent Daryl. "But..." Her ears swiveled. A low buzz hummed in the air, not insects. Mechanical. She nudged a shattered side mirror with her nose. Reflected in the glass: a glint of sunlight on metal, high in the pines across the road. Too steady for debris. "Ambush," Daryl growled. He dropped low, belly fur brushing asphalt. "That smell—industrial. Not walkers."
The shot cracked like ice splitting stone. Concrete exploded inches from Lily's paw. She lunged sideways as Daryl snarled, launching himself toward the tree line. Three figures scrambled down pine trunks—not the ragged shovel-men from earlier. These wore patched tactical vests, gas masks dangling at their throats. One reloaded a bolt-action rifle with practiced speed. "Wolves?" yelled the tallest, voice muffled. "Fuckin' *mutants*!" Lily dodged behind a rusted sedan. Daryl vanished into the underbrush. She heard his mental command: *Distract.*
lily shifted and stood up and called out. " hey... you guys" she called out to them and waved her arms. " please don't shoot... we mean no harm" she said and step out from behind the car. she kept her arms raised and her eyes on the three men. " we are just looking for our family... they came this way" she said and step closer to them slowly. " they are humans... and wolves... and pups... please... have you seen them?" she ask and stop moving.
"Family?" The tallest man spat, rifle still trained on her chest. His finger hovered near the trigger guard. "Saw a convoy hauling ass south an hour ago. Looked like refugees playing bumper cars." He jerked his chin toward the mangled path through the wrecks. "Didn't stop. Didn't wave." His companions fanned out, flanking Lily. One clutched a crowbar slick with walker gore; the other held a dented walkie-talkie crackling static. "Why should we care?" the crowbar man sneered. "You freaks bring trouble. Like moths to a damn flame."
" you guys seem hungry, we werewolves can hunt quitely then those gun, we can get you some meat" lily said, stepping closer slowly. She kept her hands raised, palms open. "Deer, rabbits—anything you want. No strings." The crowbar man hesitated, lowering his weapon slightly. His stomach growled audibly. The tallest one's grip on the rifle tightened. "Freak tricks," he muttered. "How do we know you won't rip our throats out?"
Daryl's voice cut through Lily's mind like a shard of ice. *Got 'em. Two more hiding in the pines behind the oak. Armed.* Lily didn't flinch. "Because if we wanted you dead," she said evenly, "you'd already be bleeding out. We need directions. That convoy—they're ours. Help us find them, and we'll bring you a week's worth of game. Fresh." The man with the walkie-talkie licked chapped lips. "Boss? The wolf-girl's offering a trade..."
The tallest man—Boss—lowered his rifle a fraction. His eyes flickered toward the woods where Daryl stalked unseen. "Fine. Convoy headed for the old Agisting Yards south of here. Makeshift settlement. But they hit trouble." He spat. "Road's blocked near the river crossing. Saw smoke. Heard gunfire." Lily's pulse spiked. Fen. Sophia. "What kind of trouble?" Boss shrugged. "Walkers? Raiders? Who cares? Point is, they're pinned. And you ain't getting through without crossing Miller's turf. Bastard runs a toll bridge. Charges in ammo or... fresh meat."
The crowbar man chimed
" we can shake on the deal, you let us pass and we will get you meat, Daryl come back" lily called
we two shook hands her and boss guy, his grip calloused and slick with pine sap. "Deal," he grunted. "But if you screw us..." He didn't finish. Didn't need to. The crowbar man eyed Lily's throat. Daryl melted from the brush behind them, human now, shirtless and streaked with dirt. He didn't speak. Just stared at Boss until the man flinched and looked away. "The Agisting Yards," Lily pressed. "How far?" "Five miles," the walkie-talkie man said, fiddling with his device. "But Miller's bridge is halfway. He's got deckhands—armed thugs—posted on both banks. They sink anyone who tries to swim." Daryl snatched a discarded canteen from the wreckage, sniffed it, then tossed it aside. "And the trouble at the river?" Lily asked. Boss shrugged.
" daryl go and find them, im the best hunter, i will meet you their after i hunt for these nice men." she said and kissed him before watching him go.
" so deer?" boss ask lily as she shift back into her wolf form and rush off into the woods. she could smell deer, rabbits, and other prey animals in the area. she quickly found a deer and killed it with a swift bite to the neck. she dragged it back to the men who were waiting near the highway. " here" she said as she shifted back and drop the deer at their feet. " that should feed you for a week" she said and turn to leave. " wait" boss call out to her. " what?" she ask turning back to him. " you guys seem like you could use some help" he said. " we know this area well, we can help you get to the agisting yards" he offer. lily thought for a moment. " fine" she said. " but we need to move fast" she added.
The stump dump near the highway entrance reeked of rotted wood and rusted appliances—a convenient landmark Boss called "the Castilian" for its crumbling turret of discarded washing machines. Lily kept pace with the men, her wolf senses cataloging their offhandedness with weapons: Boss's finger too loose on the trigger, Crowbar's nervous glances at tree shadows. Dissatisfied with their slow jog, she pushed ahead, nostrils flaring for Daryl's trail. Pine sap and damp earth, yes, but beneath it—cordite? Fen's mind-link remained stubbornly silent. *Focus. Five miles.* The river crossing loomed.
"Miller's bridge ain't friendly," Boss panted, catching up as they crested a ridge. Below, the river coiled like a tarnished ribbon. "He calls it 'Charon's Crossing.' Charges a bullet per head. Or..." He trailed off, eyeing Lily's wolf form. She shifted back, ignoring the men's flinch. "Or fresh kills. Walkers won't do. Has to be warm." Crowbar spat. "Bastard fed my cousin to his dogs 'cause he was two rounds short." Lily scanned the opposite bank. Concrete barriers blocked the bridge entrance. Figures patrolled—four, maybe five—with rifles slung low. "Where's the trouble?" she demanded. Boss pointed downstream. Smoke plumed near a collapsed overpass. Gunfire crackled, faint but distinct. "That's the Yards' access road. Your people are cornered."
Daryl's scent hit her first—pine resin and adrenaline—as he emerged from a thicket upstream, dragging a dripping canvas sack. "Took you long enough," Lily muttered. He dumped the sack. Six plump rabbits spilled out, still warm. "Bridge tax," he grunted. Boss eyed the haul greedily. "Miller'll want more. He counts teeth." Lily grabbed two rabbits by their hind legs. "Then we negotiate." She strode toward the bridge, Daryl flanking her, silent as shadow.
At the barrier, a man with a scarred lip leveled his rifle. "Halt! Toll's a bullet or twenty pounds of meat." Lily tossed the rabbits at his boots. "We're light. But we've got intel." Scar-Lip sneered. "Intel don't feed the dogs." Behind him, a radio crackled—distorted voices shouting about "breach" and "east flank." Lily seized the opening. "Sounds like your boys are busy downstream. We clear your walker problem, you let us cross. No bullets wasted." Scar-Lip hesitated, glancing toward the smoke. A shotgun blast echoed from the overpass. "Deal," he snapped. "But you screw us, mutt, and I'll skin your pelt for a rug."
Daryl moved first, a blur of fur streaking toward the collapsed overpass. Lily followed, the glutinous mud sucking at her paws. The scene unfolded like a bad newsreel: walkers funneled through a gap in the concrete, while Miller's men fired wildly from atop a rusted semi. Below, trapped against the riverbank—Rick's pickup. Fen stood on its hood, shifting forms mid-swing to tear out a walker's throat with his jaws before landing human again to shout orders. Sophia's small face pressed against the rear window, pale but fierce. *Alive.* Lily's relief was a physical ache. She howled—a signal—and lunged for the gap.
Scar-Lip barked into his radio. "Hold fire! Wolves inbound!" Gunfire ceased abruptly. Silence, then the wet chorus of walker groans filled the air. Lily hit the herd like a blizzard given teeth. Six feet of white fury, she tore through rotting limbs, her jaws crunching skulls with brutal efficiency. Daryl, russet and compact, ripped into the flank, dragging walkers down by their spines. Fen's head snapped up. Recognition flashed in his eyes—wild, relieved. He shifted instantly, his own gray wolf form joining theirs. Three whirlwinds of fur and fang met the tide.
The stench was overwhelming: decay, mud, and the metallic tang of old blood. Lily tasted bile as a walker's putrid hand scraped her flank. She pivoted, crushing its skull under her paw. Bone splintered like rotten wood. Daryl snarled beside her, shaking a walker like a rag doll before hurling it into the river. Fen fought with desperate strength, his movements sharp with adrenaline. Sophia's muffled cry came from the truck—"Lily!"—but Lily couldn't spare a glance. Focus. *Rip. Tear. Clear.* Walkers fell like scythed wheat.
Finally, silence settled, thick and heavy. The last walker slumped, twitching near Fen's feet. Lily shifted back, her breath ragged, sweat stinging her eyes. Daryl followed, wiping gore from his face with a torn sleeve. Fen stood panting, chest heaving. Without a word, he strode forward and crushed Lily in a fierce hug, his arms trembling. He pulled back just enough to kiss her—hard, urgent—once on the lips, then again, softer, lingering. Then he turned and clapped Daryl hard on the shoulder, a rough, wordless acknowledgment. Daryl nodded, a flicker of understanding passing between them. This was their pack: two alphas bound to one omega, a loyalty forged in survival, not bloodlines.
Boss and his men stared, slack-jawed. The crowbar man nudged Scar-Lip. "Thought the white wolf was *his*," he whispered, nodding at Daryl. Scar-Lip grunted, squinting. "Freaks got their own rules." Boss spat tobacco juice onto the mud. "Don't matter. Deal's done." He gestured toward the bridge. "Clear path now, mutts. Pay up."
Fen didn't release Lily's waist. His thumb traced the fresh scratch on her ribs—shallow, but bleeding. "You're hurt."
"Walker fingernail," Lily dismissed, leaning into his touch. "Where's Sophia? Coral?"
"Safe in the truck. Rick's got 'em barricaded." Fen glanced at Daryl, who was already scanning the riverbank's tree line. "Miller's men pulled back. For now." Daryl's jaw tightened. "They'll want payment. Six rabbits won't cover this." He jerked his chin toward the carnage—two hundred walkers lay scattered like broken dolls.
The crowbar man shuffled closer, eyeing Fen's hand on Lily's hip. "So... she yours, gray wolf?"
Fen didn't look at him. "She's hers."
Boss snorted. "Freak hierarchy. Whatever." He kicked a walker skull. "Bridge is clear. Our debt's paid."
Lily pulled free, stepping toward the pickup. Sophia's face appeared at the window, smudged with dirt but grinning. "You came!"
"We always do," Lily said softly. Then, to Fen: "Get them moving. Now."
Daryl crouched by the riverbank, fingers tracing deep gouges in the mud—fresh tire tracks, wider than Rick's pickup. "Miller's boys weren't just guarding the bridge." He scooped a glob of viscous, iridescent fluid. It smelled like burnt plastic and rotting eggs. "Spilled coolant. Heavy vehicle." Fen joined him, sniffing. "Armored? Why would—"
A distant explosion shook the ground. South. Toward the Agisting Yards.
Rick scrambled from the truck cab, Lori clutching Coral behind him. "That was the settlement!"
Scar-Lip's radio crackled to life: "*—breach at Sector Four! Hostiles inbound—*" Static swallowed the rest.
The crowbar man backed away, eyes wide. "Hostiles? Miller said nothing about hostiles!"
Boss spat, rifle swinging toward the smoke plume. "Because that bastard *lied*. He's not charging tolls—he's herding refugees toward something worse." Lily remembered the chemical stench at the highway, the too-deliberate path through wrecks. Trapped like cattle. Fen snarled, low and dangerous. "Move. *Now*."
''we go back the way we came" rick said " this road leads to a dead end.
The truck's engine roared as Rick slammed it into reverse, tires spraying mud over the freshly killed walkers. Fen didn't argue—he'd seen the predatory gleam in Miller's eyes during their brief bridge negotiation. This wasn't about tolls; it was about funneling prey. Sophia whimpered as Lori pulled her close in the cramped cab. "Back to the highway?" Fen shouted over the engine. "Only place Miller *isn't* controlling the choke points!" Rick confirmed, wheeling the pickup around. Daryl leapt onto the flatbed, already scanning the tree line for pursuit. Lily followed, shifting mid-air to land beside him on four paws. The wind carried gunfire from the Agisting Yards—sharp, desperate pops fading as they sped north.
Boss and his men scrambled after them, Crowbar stumbling over a walker corpse. "Wait! You promised safe passage!" Lily snarled, a low warning rumble in her throat. Fen leaned out the passenger window. "Your boss lied about the hostiles. Run or die." The men froze, torn between betrayal and survival. Boss spat, then jerked his head toward the woods. "Forget the wolves. Find Miller." They vanished into the underbrush as Rick gunned the engine toward the highway's car graveyard.
The truck bounced violently over debris, Sophia's muffled cries audible even over the engine's roar. Lily pressed against Daryl's flank on the flatbed, her wolf eyes scanning the skeletal wrecks looming ahead. The pile-up felt different now—not just a maze, but a cage. Rick threaded the pickup through a gap between a gutted school bus and a semi-trailer, tires crunching glass. "Left at the creek bed?" Fen yelled back. Rick shook his head, knuckles white on the wheel. "Too predictable. Miller'll expect that. Straight through the thickest part—they won't risk tangling with walkers."
lily shifted back to human form and pulled the map out that the liars gave and look it over, a bout 300 mile up their is a highway leading Virgina, they would take that rout " she told fen through her mind-link with him.
"we head north" lily said " to Virgina" she added.
Rick didn't hesitate.
"Virginia?" he barked, wrenching the wheel hard left. The truck fishtailed, scraping paint off a derelict ice cream van as they veered north. "Better be more than hope on that map, Lily."
She traced the route with a grimy finger. "Highway 58 cuts through the mountains. Less traffic, more cover." Beside her, Daryl's gaze stayed locked on the rear window, tracking shadows. Fen squeezed Lily's shoulder—brief, grounding—before shifting back to wolf form. His gray fur bristled as he prowled the flatbed's edge, ears pricked for pursuit. but found nothing following them, rick took the highway she was talking about.
The miles bled into weeks. They traveled by night, slept by day in hollowed-out barns or beneath dense forest canopies. Sophia learned to skin rabbits with Coral watching wide-eyed, while Lori rationed powdered milk scavenged from abandoned gas stations. Fen and Daryl took turns hunting—deer when they were lucky, squirrels when they weren't—always returning before dawn. Lily's mind-link remained stubbornly silent, but Fen's presence beside her at the campfire, his quiet reassurances, became its own anchor. "He's shielding us," Fen murmured once, staring into the flames. "Or someone is." Lily didn't ask who. The uncertainty was safer than the answer. lily began to show, her belly rounder by the days , showing she was three months pregnant, and if they didnt find a place soon that was safe to nest she would have to give birth on the road, she would give birth into months, werewolves where only pregnant for five to six months, daryl stood on the truck bed on watch as rick walk the makeshift perimeter, no other humans or wolves or walkers for months, fen sat beside lily as she slept against a tree trunk, he watched her belly move as the pup kicked, he smiled softly and placed his hand on her belly, feeling the pup kick against his palm. "strong pup" he whispered. "strong like its mother."
The highway signs grew bleached and bullet-riddled. They skirted Roanoke's corpse-smoke, detoured around a flooded tunnel where walkers floated like bloated logs. Near Lynchburg, Rick found an intact pharmacy. Inside, behind a toppled shelf of cough syrup, lay a treasure: prenatal vitamins, dusty but sealed. Lori cried when Lily swallowed the first chalky tablet. "Baby needs iron," she said fiercely, wiping her eyes. Fen traded Daryl's spare knife for a cracked but functional crib mattress from a wary farmstead widow. Progress was measured in small victories: Coral's first steps, Sophia mastering her slingshot, the dwindling pain in Lily's lower back when she shifted.
Another month crawled past. Winter's teeth bit sharper as the Blue Ridge foothills rose around them. Frost silvered the pines. Then, rounding a bend choked with ice-killed ferns, they saw it. A valley cupped the farm like a protective palm. Untouched. Impossible. White-painted fences gleamed under weak sun an iron gate between two mountain the only in and out area a place they can safe guard, the mountains to steep for the undead to cross. Three chestnut horses grazed in a pasture dotted with frozen cow patties. Beyond, a red barn loomed, its doors hanging open to reveal stacks of hay bales. Chickens scratched near a henhouse the size of a small garage—inside, a fat rooster strutted atop nesting boxes. And the farmhouse, two stories with a wraparound porch, stood intact, curtains still fluttering in an upstairs window.
Rick killed the engine. Silence pressed in, thick with disbelief. "Trap?" Daryl growled, already scanning the tree line with narrowed eyes. Fen inhaled deeply. "No gunpowder. No rot. Just... manure and wet hay." Lily's hand drifted to her swollen belly, now five months along and tight as a drum. The pup kicked hard, as if sensing sanctuary. Sophia scrambled from the truck, Coral toddling after her. "Chickens!" Sophia whispered, awed. Lori caught her arm. "Slow. Check for squatters." But the stillness held. Only the rooster's crow shattered the quiet, echoing off the stone foundation. the fat female hens and the cow and the horse look like they haven't been tend to properly in months, abandon, their owner must have left a long time ago.
Rick jerked his chin toward the barn. "Daryl, Fen—clearing duty. Shane, with me. Front door." Shane hesitated, thumbing his holster. "Place feels... staged." Rick's jaw tightened. "Or blessed. Move." The men split. Fen and Daryl melted into wolf form—gray and russet shadows slipping through the barn's gaping doors. Inside, dust motes danced in shafts of weak sunlight. No walkers. Just stalls stacked high with hay bales, sacks of grain gnawed open by mice, and a rusted tractor half-buried in straw. Daryl shifted back near a workbench littered with tools. "Abandoned mid-chore," he muttered, picking up a half-split log and an axe left leaning against it. Fen sniffed the air near a stallion's pen, he was here, probably in with the mares.
Lily climbed the porch steps slowly, her hand pressed to the small of her back. The pup kicked sharply, as if protesting the stillness. The front door hung slightly ajar. Inside, the air smelled of woodsmoke and mildew. A rocking chair sat frozen mid-sway. On the kitchen table, a plate held the fossilized remains of two paczki, jelly long dried into dark scabs. Lori touched the cold stove. "Wood burner. Still warm ash underneath." Sophia pointed to muddy boot prints leading toward a narrow hallway. "Someone was here... recently."
They found the bedroom at the end of the hall. The door creaked open on hinges stiff with disuse. Fen entered first, Daryl a silent shadow behind him. The room was dominated by a sagging waterbed, its vinyl surface cracked and weeping dark fluid onto the floorboards. Beside it, two figures sat slumped in matching armchairs. An elderly man, grizzled and thin, held a double-barreled shotgun upright between his knees, the muzzle pressed beneath his chin. His other hand rested gently on the shoulder of the woman beside him—silver-haired, eyes closed as if sleeping. Twin bullet holes, neat and dark, marred each temple. No blood spatter. Just two dark trails dried like old wax down their cheeks. A handwritten note lay on the man's lap, weighted by a smooth river stone: *No more winters for Martha. No more pain. Tell the chickens we're sorry.*
"Suicide pact," Fen murmured, his voice flat. He picked up the note, the paper brittle. "Sick? Or just... done?" Daryl scanned the room—a shelf lined with medicine bottles, mostly empty. Antibiotics, painkillers. He nudged an overturned wheelchair near the window with his boot. "She couldn't walk. He couldn't watch her suffer." Lily stepped inside, her hand instinctively cradling her belly. The pup kicked sharply, a stark contrast to the stillness. "They chose peace," she said softly. "Buried them?"
Rick nodded, already turning toward the hall. "Deserves that much. Shane, find shovels." Sophia lingered in the doorway, staring at the woman's serene face. "Why'd they leave the chickens?" Lori gently steered her away. "Sometimes leaving's harder than staying, honey."
They buried them under the lone persimmon tree behind the barn—two mounds beside a weathered headstone marked *Elijah & Martha, 1952-*. Fen tamped down the last shovelful of frozen earth while Rick read the psalm Lori remembered. Daryl remained silent, sharpening his knife on a whetstone scavenged from the barn. The rooster crowed again, insistent.
"Place is defensible," Shane announced later, tracing the ridgeline with binoculars. "Steep slopes here, here... only that gate. We reinforce it, we own the valley." Rick nodded, already inventorying the barn's bounty: sacks of feed corn, jars of pickled beets lining a root cellar shelf, diesel in an underground tank. "Water?" Fen asked, sniffing the air near the well pump. Lily cranked the handle. Clear, cold water gushed into the trough. "Sweet," she murmured, cupping it to her lips. The pup kicked approval.
Lori pointed toward the coop. "Sophia, Coral—gather eggs. Carefully." The hens clucked nervously but didn't scatter. Sophia grinned, holding up a warm brown egg speckled with dirt. "Breakfast!" Coral toddled after her daughter, clutching an empty basket. Inside the farmhouse, Shane cleared the master bedroom—the suicide scene—for storage. Lily claimed the smaller back room: thick plaster walls, a sturdy oak bedframe stripped bare. She dragged the crib mattress Fen had bartered for into the corner. Her belly tightened; the pup kicked *turbulently*. "Nest," she murmured, testing the word. Fen piled blankets scavenged from a cedar chest nearby. "Rest. Now." His tone brooked no argument. Daryl hauled buckets of water from the well, silent as snowfall.
Outside, Rick surveyed the livestock. The bull snorted, tossing its head near the pasture fence. "Feed's low," he noted, kicking a sack of moldy grain. "They've been scavenging." Shane nodded toward the barn. "Found oats. Weevils, but salvageable." They set to work—Rick shoveling feed into troughs, Shane repairing a broken stall gate. Daryl gathered tools: pitchfork, scythe, a rusted wheelbarrow. Coral giggled as Sophia chased a hen. "Slow!" Lori warned, but her eyes softened. For the first time in months, the air smelled of thawing earth and manure, not decay.
Inside, Lily traced the oak bedframe's grooves. Fen piled blankets higher. "Nest," he repeated, pressing a hand to her belly. The pup rolled beneath his palm, restless. Sophia appeared in the doorway, clutching a basket of eggs. "Can Saila sleep here too?" Behind her, the young wolf—her russet fur matted—nosed a squirming cub. Lily nodded. "Keep them warm." Saila padded in, settling her cub near the crib mattress. The pup's mewls softened to contented grunts. Lily sank onto the blankets, exhaustion weighting her bones. Fen tucked a woolen shawl around her shoulders. "Rest. Guard you." she smile, saila pup was old enough run around and eat meat.
Outside, Rick hauled a sack of weevil-dusted oats toward the barn. The bull snorted, hooves scraping frozen mud. Shane dumped grain into troughs. "Grass and bugs kept 'em alive," he muttered, watching the bony cows jostle. "Not anymore." Coral giggled as Lori lifted her onto the pasture fence. "Horsies!" The stallion tossed its mane, flanked by two mares—one sway-backed, the other's belly suspiciously rounded. Daryl slid a pitchfork under moldy hay, heaving it into the wheelbarrow. "Pregnant mare," he noted, nodding at the fuller-bellied horse. "Needs extra feed." Rick grunted. "Then she gets it." rick said " later when we get everything done glenn and shane can run into town and get feed and many other things we will need" rick said " for now we feed them what we have" he added.
Inside the farmhouse, Lily's room smelled of damp wool and wolf musk. Saila's cub nosed at Lily's swollen belly, whimpering.
"Feeling it?" Fen asked, kneeling beside her on the crib mattress. He pressed his ear low against her skin. A hard kick thumped his temple. "Strong. Like—"
"Like it's trying to dig its way out," Lily gasped, fingers digging into the woolen shawl. A vise squeezed her pelvis, radiating heat down her thighs. Not Braxton-Hicks. This was granite grinding bone. "Soon." The word tasted like certainty. "Tonight." She knew it in her marrow—the pup's restlessness, the low ache settling into her hips, the way her breath snagged on invisible hooks.
Fen's eyes snapped to hers, wide and sharp. "How soon?"
"Moonrise," Lily breathed, counting the contractions tightening like clockwork. An hour apart. Closing fast. Outside, dusk bled purple into the valley. Saila's cub whined, sensing the shift. Fen barked orders through the open doorway, voice cracking. "Lori! Water! Boil it! Daryl—guard the perimeter!" Boots pounded the porch steps. Sophia appeared, clutching clean towels scavenged from a linen closet. "Is it happening?" Her whisper trembled. Lily managed a tight nod, sweat already slicking her temples. "Eggs?" Sophia produced a speckled brown egg, warm from the hen. "For strength." Lily cracked it raw into her mouth, swallowing the viscous yolk. Protein. Fuel.
In the pasture, Rick froze mid-shovel when Fen's shout cut through the evening chill. Shane dropped the feed sack. "Kid coming?" Rick wiped his brow with a muddy sleeve. "Get Glenn. Town run's canceled." Daryl was already scaling the farmhouse roof, crossbow loaded. Below, Lori hauled buckets from the well, steam rising as she dumped them into a cauldron hung over the outdoor firepit. "Sophia! More firewood!" Coral toddled after her daughter who clutching kindling twice her size.
Inside the bedroom, Lily braced against the oak bedframe, knuckles white. Fen pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. "Breathe through it," Lori instructed, rolling up her sleeves. "Short pants, not long." Lily gasped as the contraction crested—a wave of pressure threatening to crack her spine. Saila circled nervously, her cub burrowing into the blankets. "Too fast," Lily panted. "Shouldn't be this fast." Fen gripped her hand. "Strong pup. Impatient."
Outside, Glenn scrambled onto the porch, breathless. "Perimeter's clear! No walkers, no hostiles!" Daryl's silhouette shifted on the roof tiles. "Keep it that way." Rick hauled another bucket to Lori's boiling cauldron. "Water's ready!" coral scurried past with towels, nearly tripping over Coral. "Stay back, sweetie," Lori called, but sophia toddled to the doorway, wide-eyed. "Baby is coming now?"
Inside, Lily's world narrowed to fire in her hips and Fen's steady grip. The contractions came like hammer blows—five minutes apart, then three. Too fast for a first litter. "Something's wrong," she gasped, nails biting Fen's forearm. Lori knelt, pressing cool cloths to Lily's neck. "Breathe, Lily. Slow." But Lily's wolf senses screamed *danger*. The pup wasn't descending—it felt trapped, sideways. A guttural groan tore from her throat. Saila whined, nudging her cub away. lily then felt it she had to shift she spent most of her pregnancy as a wolf, her baby was in wolf form. " the baby is in wolf form, i have to shift"
Fen understood instantly. "Do it." Lily's shift ripped through her—fur erupting, bones snapping realigning. Pain blazed white-hot as her wolf body strained. Instantly, the pressure eased. The pup slid into position, head crowning. Relief flooded Fen's eyes. Lori scrambled back, startled. "Oh! Okay. Okay, that's... better." Outside, Daryl's crossbow creaked as he scanned the treeline. Glenn paced below, clutching his rifle. "Anything?" Rick hissed. "Quiet," Daryl growled. ' for once it quite"
Inside the bedroom, Lily's wolf form trembled on the crib mattress. Fen knelt beside her, murmuring low commands in their tongue—guttural, soothing sounds Saila echoed with soft whines. Sophia pressed towels against Lily's flank, hands steady despite her trembling lip. "Almost there," Lori coached, wiping Lily's muzzle with a damp cloth. "One more big push." Lily bore down, a deep, rumbling growl shaking the floorboards. The pup slid free—a slick, dark bundle. Fen caught it, clearing the airway with gentle fingers. A sharp, indignant yelp pierced the room. Alive. Healthy. Fen placed the squirming newborn against Lily's belly. She nuzzled it fiercely, licking it clean then another contractions started, she had twins, she pushed again, and another pup came out, smaller and weaker, Fen caught it, clearing the airway with gentle fingers, this pup like it mother was white, lily thought she was done but that wasnt the case, she pushed again and a third pup came free, Fen caught it, clearing the airway with gentle fingers, the third pup was grey like Fen, Sophia gasped. "Three babies!" Lori laughed, tears in her eyes. "Triplets."
Outside, Daryl's crossbow lowered an inch. Glenn exhaled sharply. "Three?" Rick's shoulders slumped in relief. "Three." carl clapped, babbling happily. carol burst onto the porch, beaming. "Two girls and a boy! All wolf pups!" Fen emerged moments later, cradling the smallest bundle—the grey male—in the crook of his arm. The pup whimpered, eyes still sealed shut. Behind him, Sophia carried the white female pup wrapped in towels, her expression solemn with importance. Lori followed, supporting Lily, now human again and draped in Fen's coat. She held the larger dark, brown-furred female pup against her chest. Saila trailed them, her own cub tucked close.
"Strong lungs," Fen announced, his voice rough with exhaustion. He passed the grey pup to Lily, who settled onto the porch swing. Rick knelt, inspecting the newborns with gentle fingers. "No deformities? Breathing clear?" Lily nodded, nuzzling the brown pup. "Perfect." The white pup squirmed in Sophia's arms. "She's cold," Sophia whispered. Lori tucked another blanket around it. "Keep her close. Skin warmth."
Daryl dropped from the roof, landing silently beside Glenn. "Perimeter's tight. No movement." His gaze lingered on the pups—especially the brown female—before turning toward the barn. "Feed the mare first. She's drooping." Shane hauled the last sack
" daryl glenn will take watch take fen and lily and your babies inside" rick said " sophia coral help lori with the pups" he added " shane with me to the barn" he said " we need to feed the livestock" he added " and we need to get the generator working" he said " we need power for the heat lamps" he added " for the pups" he said " and for the mare" he added " she is close to foaling" he said " we need to keep her warm" he added " and we need to get the well pump working" he said " we need water for the livestock" he added " and for us" he said " we need to get this place running" he added " we need to make it home" he said " for the pups" he added " for all of us" he said " we need to make it safe" he added
lily shift to wolf form once in the room and sophia and her mother and lori laid the pups down next to lily to let them feed for lilys tits and left the room, leaving the new mother and her two mates daryl and fen watch them in happiness they had three babies, fen took the grey pup and daryl took the brown pup and lily took the white pup and they fed them and cleaned them and laid them down on the bed, lily shift back to human form and laid down next to her pups, fen and daryl laid down next to her and the pups, they were a family now, they had a home, they had each other, they had pups, they were safe, they were happy, they were home.