Leah–POV
Rick said the one most likely to talk to us first would be named Aaron.
Said he'd be smart and cautious. And that if we earned his trust, we might just find a door that opens instead of slams.
We didn't know what Alexandria would be like now—only that it still existed.
So we made the first move.
Amy, Daryl, Glenn, and I had watched the trail for three days. It was faint, only used every so often. But someone traveled it—two people, paired closely and efficient.
Rick had been right.
Aaron and his partner Eric appeared just after dawn, walking with practiced confidence, packs light, steps synchronized. They were runners, not soldiers.
We didn't ambush them.
We left a letter staked in the ground just off the trail.
We are from a peaceful, fortified community.
We are over 200 strong.
We farm. We defend. We build.
We are not asking to come in.
We are offering a chance to talk.
If you're open to contact, meet us here.
– Leah,. The Right Arm
We posted a second copy farther down the trail the next morning.
That night, a small white ribbon was tied where we left it.
They accepted.
We waited on neutral ground the next day. Open clearing with no blind spots. Our weapons holstered. Amy stayed hidden up on overwatch with her scope.
Aaron and Eric arrived midmorning, moving cautiously but not paranoid. Their eyes scanned everything.
"You Leah?" Aaron asked as we stepped out of the trees.
"Yes," I replied. "This is Glenn and Daryl. Amy's watching from the ridge. Not to shoot—just to watch."
Aaron raised a hand briefly in Amy's direction without looking.
"I'm Aaron," he said. "This is Eric."
"Appreciate you coming," I said.
Eric nodded. "Curiosity wins out more often than it should."
Aaron looked at us carefully. "You're claiming over 200 people. That's a big number."
"It is," I said. "But it's not a lie."
"We've run into liars before."
"We're not like them."
"What's your angle?" Eric asked. "You want to join us?"
"No," I said. "We don't want to take anything from you. We came to say we exist—and that we might be stronger if we're not strangers."
Aaron considered that for a long moment.
"Who runs your community?"
"Rick Grimes."
Aaron paused. "Don't know him."
"I expected that," I said calmly. "But he knows of you. From before."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"I don't know."
Aaron stepped a little closer.
Aaron looked at Amy on the ridge. "She yours?"
"She's family."
He nodded once.
"You're not the first group to reach out to us," Aaron said. "But most come to take. You didn't."
"We believe in building."
Aaron exchanged a glance with Eric, then said, "We won't bring you in. Not yet. But we'll bring your letter to our council."
"You have a council?" Glenn asked.
"We don't do anything alone," Eric replied.
Aaron handed back the original letter with a symbol marked on the back—a circle and three slashes.
"If you see that symbol outside your camp, we're sending someone. If you don't—consider that our answer."
Amy rejoined us quietly once they were out of sight.
"They didn't follow?"
"No," I said. "They were watching everything, though."
Glenn sighed. "So… maybe?"
"Maybe's better than a bullet," Daryl muttered.
Aaron–POV
Some groups come crawling. Others come armed.
These ones came… steady.
And they didn't try to get in. That was what stuck with me the most.
They didn't ask for protection. They asked for something bigger.
That's what I carried with me as Eric and I returned through the Alexandria gates.
We were met by Heath, who jogged to intercept us before the gate closed.
"Anything?"
"Yeah," I said. "Something."
Eric passed off our packs to the supply crew. I kept the letter from The Right Arm tucked under my arm, still sealed from the wind.
Heath glanced at the symbol Eric had scratched into the wood over the gate — three slashes inside a circle.
"You're using that again?"
"Only for real leads," I said.
"You think they're real?"
I looked back once at the woods beyond.
"I think they're different."
Deanna called the meeting within the hour. The council assembled in the west room of the community building. Bright sunlight filtered through the glass panes, but the room felt thick with questions.
Reg stood behind his wife, quiet but observant. Tobin, Olivia, Heath, Aiden, and Spencer rounded out the room. No guards. Just neighbors trying to play politics in the ashes of the old world.
Deanna looked directly at me.
"You found something?"
"Someone," I corrected. "Four of them."
Eric continued, "Said they came from a community called The Right Arm."
Deanna raised a brow. "Never heard of it."
"They never expected us to," I said. "They're hidden. On purpose. Said they have walls, farms, a population of over 200."
That drew reactions.
"Two hundred?" Olivia asked. "That's… that's not a camp. That's a town."
"They claimed discipline,and a leader named Rick Grimes."
"No one I recognize," Heath said.
"Same," Tobin added. "Could be a front."
"Could be," I said.
Deanna studied me.
"And what's your instinct?"
I hesitated.
"They didn't posture. Didn't offer tribute. Didn't ask to join. They didn't flinch when I said we'd think it over. That tells me two things: they're stable, and they're not desperate."
Heath leaned forward. "That could also mean they're liars."
"It could," I said. "But if they are, they're better at it than anyone I've met."
Deanna steepled her fingers.
"Let me see the letter."
I handed it over.
She read silently, her eyes tracking each line with focused precision. At the end, she nodded once, then passed it to Reg.
"We can't ignore this," she said finally. "Not if what they claim is true."
Reg looked up. "If this is real, it changes things."
"How?" Spencer asked.
"They outnumber us," Aiden whispered. "If they turn hostile…"
"They won't," I said.
"You don't know that," Heath snapped.
Eric stepped in. "But we know what hostile looks like. They didn't move like it."
Deanna listened, fingers tapping.
"I want eyes on their camp," she said at last. "A small team, and only trusted people."
She turned to me.
"Aaron, you'll lead it."
That night, I packed light.
Eric sat across from me, tightening his laces.
"You sure about this?" he asked.
"No," I admitted. "But I think it matters."
"Rick Grimes," he said slowly. "You think he's for real?"
"I think he's already built something."
Eric studied me.
"And if he's built it wrong?"
I strapped on my belt.
"Then we'll know what not to become."
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