"Keep your eyes on the late-night groups," I told Graves near the north wall. "The ones that whisper more than they work."
She nodded. "A few loudmouths."
"Keep it that way.No confrontation unless it turns ugly."
Graves paused, then added, "Amy's been hearing things too. Want me to plug her into rotation?"
"Already ahead of you," I said. "Amy's sharper than she lets on."
"She sees the shifts before most do," Graves agreed. "I'll station her on the tower by the courtyard. She'll catch the mood."
"Good," I said. "Let's keep the fire from jumping fences."
I found Merle grunting over an old engine block, half-immersed in oil and wires.
"How many working vehicles?" I asked.
Merle wiped his hand off on a rag and leaned against the frame of a dusty Jeep.
"Four trucks. Two Jeeps. That beat-up armored van we got from that gas depot. And the 'roach'."
"The roach?"
He grinned. "Can't kill it. Ugly. Runs like a mule in heat. Never breaks."
I smirked. "And fuel?"
"Three weeks' worth if we ration. One long-haul trip otherwise."
"We'll need one," I said. "I've got two places in mind."
We'd been collecting horses during runs—rescued and scavenged.
The stables, once empty, now buzzed with soft neighs and straw-lined breath.
"How many?" I asked Mia, our stable lead.
"Seventeen total. Ten good for patrol. Two foals. One mare due any week now."
"You name them all?"
She grinned. "Only the mean ones."
I chuckled and stepped into the largest stall, brushing my hand across the neck of a black mare with sharp eyes.
"We'll be riding out soon."
Mia nodded. "She's ready."
So was I.
I found Maggie sitting under the porch awning, eyes closed, one hand across her belly, the other resting over her journal.
"You're too quiet," I said, taking the seat beside her.
"I'm growing life. Not exactly loud work," she said.
I smiled. "That's exactly why I'm here."
She raised a brow. "To tell me to sit back?"
I didn't flinch. "Yeah."
"I've fought walkers. Raiders. Reapers," she said, voice tight. "You know that."
"I do."
"Then don't bench me like I'm glass."
"I'm not," I said, gently taking her hand. "But this child's future matters more than pride. Yours or mine."
She sighed but didn't pull away.
"I trust you," she said. "But if things go wrong—"
"They won't," I promised. "Not while I'm breathing."
Back in the war room, I spread the map.
Markers dotted key locations—places I remembered not from scouting, but from a life I didn't live in this world.
Alexandria—a fortified community
I knew what it could be.
I also knew what it could become if we didn't reach it first.
And then there was the prison.
In this life, we never went there.
But I remembered the cell blocks. The mess halls. The armory. The medical wing.
Even the inmates—some of them decent. Some of them not.
There were supplies there. Maybe lives.
Time to take it.
I called Leah, Daryl, Shane, Andrea, and Amy to the side yard.
"We split," I said. "Daryl and Leah lead a four-person scouting party toward Alexandria. Quiet approach. Diplomatic. We're not attacking—we're offering."
Andrea asked, "You know about this place already?"
I looked her in the eyes. "Let's say I've heard things. We'll talk more when they open the gates."
"And the prison?" Shane asked.
"I'm taking a handpicked crew there myself. Could be walkers. Could be survivors. Could be traps."
Amy raised a hand. "You sure you should go?"
"I'm sure I can't send someone else in blind. I know that place."
Andrea nodded. "Then we're with you."