Turner, who had been wiping down the barrel of his machine gun by the fire, was the first to look up. When he saw Michonne, his eyes widened, and the cleaning cloth in his hand nearly fell into the flames.
Jenson, who had been half-dozing with his sniper rifle in his arms, snapped his eyes open, his finger instinctively moving toward the trigger.
Even Danny and Ethan, who had been quietly discussing tomorrow's route, stopped talking and stared over in astonishment.
"Well, damn!" Merle was the first to break the silence. He leaned against the wall with his one arm, looked Michonne up and down, and gave a loud whistle. "Where'd this badass chick come from?"
His tone was flippant, carrying his usual reckless edge, but there was also a hint of scrutiny hidden deep in his eyes.
Shane had been speaking quietly with Wells. Seeing this, he immediately stood, brow furrowed, his gaze moving back and forth between Calista and Michonne with clear suspicion.
"Calista, this is...?"
Lorenzo, handcuffed beside the fireplace, also opened his eyes, a flicker of interest passing through them.
The only one who showed little reaction was Leah.
She looked Michonne over from head to toe, her attention lingering on her empty waist and hands.
"A survivor we ran into by accident. She's good," Calista explained briefly, trying to ease the tension in the room. "There was a misunderstanding, but it's been settled. She'll stay with us for now."
She did not reveal the details about Michonne's two walkers. Now was not the time.
The two walkers were still chained at the doorway of the house they had come from, and Michonne did not seem too worried.
They were not exactly treasures. No one would be crazy enough to steal them.
Calista handed the katana to Leah. "Leah, hold onto this."
Leah took it, her gaze sweeping over Michonne as if warning her not to get any ideas about the katana.
"Ethan." Calista turned toward Carver. "Carver's hurt. Stitch him up."
As the squad's medic, Ethan had brought all his medical gear this time.
Hearing that, he immediately came forward with the medical kit. "Over here, Carver. Sit where there's light."
Ethan had Carver sit in a relatively intact chair, then began preparing the tools, disinfecting the wound, and cleaning it with practiced hands.
Calista did not deal with Michonne right away. Instead, she walked to Carver's side and watched Ethan work.
"How is it?" she asked quietly.
"Surface wound. Didn't hit the tendon. A few stitches will do." Ethan did not look up, focused on using forceps to clean the dirt from the edge of the cut.
When the alcohol touched the wound, Carver's muscles tensed hard, and he sucked in a breath, but he clenched his teeth and said nothing.
Calista nodded, then turned her attention back to Michonne.
She pointed to a more secluded corner of the living room. "You can stay there."
It was easy to watch, dimly lit, and away from the center of the group. A compromise.
Michonne gave no response. She silently walked to the corner and slid down with her back against the wall.
She hugged her knees and curled in on herself, trying to make her presence smaller, while her calm eyes continued observing every person in the room.
Michonne did not try to approach any exit, nor did she make any threatening movements. But her silence and vigilance alone were enough to make everyone around her uneasy.
Turner and Jenson exchanged a look. Without discussing it, both adjusted their positions, one facing the door, the other with a better view of the corner where Michonne sat.
Bossie moved closer to Lorenzo, deliberately or not, as if afraid he might take the chance to cause trouble.
Daryl remained seated on the stairs, but his crossbow was within reach.
Shane began pacing slowly through the room. He looked casual, but he was actually checking the doors, windows, and every possible hazard.
Leah was even more direct. She moved a chair closer to Michonne, crossed her arms, and kept most of her attention on Michonne, making no attempt to hide her distrust.
Calista saw all of it and did not interfere.
A necessary level of caution from her teammates was a good thing.
She walked to the supply pile, took an unopened bottle of water and a pack of compressed biscuits, then headed toward Michonne.
Calista stopped a few steps away from her, crouched, placed the water and biscuits on the floor, and slowly pushed them over.
"Eat something." Her tone was calm. There was no deliberate kindness in it, and no sense of charity either. It sounded like she was doing something perfectly ordinary.
Michonne's eyes first fell on the food and water, and her throat moved almost imperceptibly.
She could no longer remember the last time she had eaten food still sealed in its packaging.
Then Michonne raised her eyes to Calista, her gaze full of scrutiny and deep suspicion.
Calista did not rush her. She only looked back calmly.
A few seconds later, Michonne reached out with incredible speed and snatched the biscuits and water over in one motion, so fast it almost left a blur.
She did not open them right away. Instead, she held them tightly in her hands, her body still tense, as if ready to face an attack at any moment.
Seeing that, Calista said nothing more. She stood and returned to the center of the living room, watching Ethan stitch Carver's wound.
Michonne watched Calista leave, then lowered her head to look at the things in her hands. Only then did she carefully shield them with her body, quickly twist open the bottle cap, and take a small sip of water.
The cool water slid down her dry throat, bringing a brief moment of relief.
Then Michonne tore open the biscuit wrapper and began chewing in small, quick bites. She made no sound the entire time, like a small animal secretly eating in the wild.
The night gradually deepened.
Ethan finished stitching Carver's wound and bandaged it properly.
Carver moved his arm. Aside from the pain, there was no serious problem.
Everyone began taking turns resting, but the number of people on watch had clearly increased, and much of their attention remained fixed on the silent figure in the corner.
Michonne barely slept all night.
She leaned against the wall, listening to the rise and fall of breathing in the room, the faint footsteps of the people on watch, and their low conversations. She did not lower her guard for even a second.
But in this space filled with human presence, with the occasional crackle of wood popping in the fire nearby, a nearly forgotten feeling seemed to be trying to pry open Michonne's defenses.
It was an extremely faint illusion of being part of a group.
Her hand, wrapped around the nearly empty bottle of water, loosened slightly at the knuckles.
By morning, before daylight had fully driven away the night's chill, everyone was already awake and packing up, preparing to continue on.
As Calista sorted her gear, her gaze swept over Michonne several times without seeming to mean to.
She saw that Michonne was already awake. Or rather, she might not have slept much at all. Those eyes were still clear and alert in the dim light.
Calista thought for a moment, then made her decision.
She walked to Leah's side and whispered a few words.
Leah frowned slightly, clearly not in favor of it. But under Calista's insistent gaze, she still took out the katana she had kept safe all night.
Calista took the katana and walked toward Michonne.
...
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