Perhaps Michonne had kept them with her as a twisted kind of punishment, punishing herself for being powerless back then.
Perhaps they symbolized a sick kind of companionship, reminding Michonne of what she had once had, and what she had lost.
Or perhaps, in this completely insane world, they were simply the only "proof" she could still hold onto that connected her to the past.
Calista listened quietly, understanding.
This matched the story she remembered.
Calista offered no comfort. In the face of a tragedy like that, any words would sound pale and powerless.
She only stayed silent, giving Michonne space to process the pain.
Only when Michonne's tense shoulders loosened slightly, when that deeply suppressed pain seemed to have found the smallest crack to drain through, did Calista speak again.
Her gaze remained fixed on the distance.
"This world is dangerous. Even someone as strong as you," Calista turned her head and glanced at Michonne and the katana in her hand, "will eventually run into things they can't handle alone. We've all lost a lot..."
A trace of heaviness entered her voice. "Family, friends, the lives we used to have. Everything changed. But surviving means having something to rely on. Not that kind of..."
She glanced at the two walkers. "Not the kind of 'support' chained down and trapped in the shadow of the past."
Calista turned around and faced Michonne properly, her gaze honest, serious with appreciation and sincerity.
"We're carrying out a dangerous mission. We're heading to a place called Sentinel Station. There's something there we need, but it's also full of unknown dangers. We need fighting strength, especially someone as strong as you."
She paused. "Stay. Join us. The base we built can become your new home. And we..."
Calista's eyes swept over Carver, Leah, Merle, and the others as they worked.
"We can become your new companions."
She did not promise safety, nor did she paint some beautiful future. In the apocalypse, those were all empty bubbles.
She only offered the most practical things. A goal, a need, and a possible place to belong.
Michonne finally raised her head and met Calista's eyes.
Then she looked toward the Rock Fortress team not far away, cleaning up the battlefield.
Carver was grimacing as Ethan disinfected and stitched the not-too-deep cut on his arm, cursing the whole time. "Fuck, easy, easy! You trying to hurt me to death so you can inherit my throwing knives?"
Ethan rolled his eyes, but his hands did not stop. "Shut up, Carver. If you keep moving and I stitch it crooked, don't blame me."
Leah sat on an ammo crate, carefully wiping her dagger with an oilcloth.
Sensing Michonne's gaze, Leah looked up and met her eyes for a moment. She showed no reaction, then lowered her head and kept wiping.
Turner and Wells were still sitting in the vehicle. They had not gotten out the entire time, keeping Lorenzo under strict watch.
Jenson and Danny were moving a few boxes of usable bullets and several guns that still looked capable of firing, all taken from the raiders, onto the heavy truck.
As Jenson carried them, he muttered, "Broke bastards. They had this little and still dared to rob people?"
Danny laughed. "Better than nothing."
Shane and Daryl were checking the wrecked pickup and sedan.
"This one's done," Shane said, patting the warped hood. "Nothing valuable left."
Daryl said nothing. He only reached under the pickup's driver seat and pulled out half a wrinkled chocolate bar. After glancing at it, he tossed it to Merle, who was chewing on a compressed biscuit nearby.
Merle caught it and grinned. "Hey, thanks, little brother!"
Mike and Bossie were talking quietly around the edge of the camp, though it was unclear what they were saying.
All of it, the bustle, the noise, even the crude curses, strangely wove together into something alive.
A sense of "group" that Michonne had not felt in a very, very long time.
Michonne had lost her husband, lost her friend, lost her child, and in the end, even lost those two "companions" that carried her painful memories and twisted obsession.
The world had left only her, and a katana.
Was she really going to keep living like this?
Alone, like a wandering ghost, drifting across this hopeless wasteland until one day she was swallowed by a herd, or killed by raiders like the ones today?
Michonne's gaze fell back on Calista.
This woman had returned her katana, had not taken advantage of her weakness, had offered food and water without pity, and just now, had seen straight into the emptiness deep inside her and given her a direct invitation.
The wind swept dust from the ground, swirling between them.
Michonne did not answer right away.
She only looked deeply at Calista, as if trying to see through her completely.
Then Michonne flipped her wrist, and with a soft click, she cleanly sheathed the sharp katana at her waist.
Michonne still did not say yes or no. She only gave her name.
"My name is Michonne."
Calista smiled. "Calista."
Michonne nodded.
Calista said nothing more. She only gave Michonne a slight nod, then turned and walked toward the convoy, beginning to arrange the next part of the trip.
Michonne stood where she was, then lowered her head and looked one last time at the two "companions" that were now completely dead. The final trace of complicated emotion in her eyes sank into silence.
She lifted her foot, did not look at them again, and quietly followed Calista's steps.
Michonne stopped seven or eight meters away from the lead vehicle where Calista was. She chose an old oak tree stripped bare of leaves, leaned back against the trunk, and slowly slid down to sit.
She laid the katana across her knees and closed her eyes, as if she only wanted somewhere to rest, and also as if she were making the clearest statement possible.
I'm going with you.
For a moment, the whole camp went quiet.
Everyone saw what she did.
Merle scratched his hair and grinned. "Hey, badass chick is... joining up?"
Carver looked at Calista and raised an eyebrow. His meaning was obvious. You sure?
Calista looked at Michonne, who was leaning against the tree with her eyes closed, without the slightest surprise on her face.
She said calmly to everyone, "This is Michonne. From now on, she's also a member of Rock Fortress."
"Pack up. We leave in ten minutes. Tonight, we need to reach the planned campsite."
Everyone got busy again, but the atmosphere seemed subtly different.
The convoy set out once more, headlights tearing through the night as they continued toward Clayton County.
And the figure who had been resting against the tree silently stood when the convoy started moving. At Calista's invitation, she got into Carver's Humvee.
...
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