Merle couldn't hold himself back any longer. He strode forward, brushing past Calista and stopping in front of the group, his eyes locked on the figure with the crossbow standing just behind Rick.
Even in the dim light, that outline, that stance, there was no way he could mistake it.
Merle's face twisted with emotion, his eyes already reddening.
That shout hit like a stone thrown into still water.
All attention shifted instantly from Calista to Merle and Daryl.
The entire standoff changed in an instant.
Daryl stepped forward as well. The moment he saw Merle's dirty but familiar face, it was like he'd been struck by lightning.
The arm holding his crossbow trembled visibly, the bolt lowering on its own.
His lips moved, but no sound came out at first. He stared at Merle, his gaze finally settling on the glaring metal arm, his expression tangled with too many emotions to name.
"Me… Merle?" Daryl's voice came out dry and hoarse, barely sounding like his own. "You… you're not dead?!"
There was something fragile in that question, something he hadn't even realized himself.
"Dead? I'm too damn tough for that!" Merle's voice caught for a second, but he forced it down with a louder shout. "Hell, you're still alive too…"
He was so worked up he couldn't even speak properly. He wanted to step forward, but the tension in front of him held him in place.
Daryl suddenly let go of his crossbow, letting it fall to the ground, and rushed forward, grabbing Merle in a tight hug, his voice shaking.
"I knew it! Bastards like you don't die that easy!"
They separated almost immediately, like they couldn't stand each other.
But everyone could see it. Both of their eyes were red.
Rick's group erupted into murmurs.
"Merle Dixon?" Shane frowned deeply, suspicion written all over his face. "Damn it, what the hell happened to him?"
He had never liked Merle.
To Shane, Merle had always been nothing but trouble.
Glenn, T-Dog, and the others looked just as shocked, whispering among themselves.
No one had expected this.
Rick, after his initial surprise, turned his attention back to Calista and Leah.
The light had grown even dimmer, but something about Leah's build and presence felt familiar, especially when combined with what his son had just said.
Then it clicked.
It was her.
Back at the highway pileup, it had been this cold-eyed woman and her companions who had briefly confronted them, only to later provide information about the farm, helping them find Sophia.
Back then, things had been extremely dangerous. Sophia had been running blindly, chased by walkers.
When Rick and the others arrived, she had just tripped over a branch, and the walkers were already closing in.
Daryl's arrow had saved her at the last moment.
Because of that, Rick and the others were deeply grateful to Leah, especially since her sister had also left them valuable supplies.
At that moment, Dale seemed to notice something.
He looked at Leah and Calista's similar pale blonde hair, stepped closer to Rick and Shane, and spoke in a low, uncertain voice.
"Wait… are those two sisters?"
When no one responded, he added, "Remember? Back in Atlanta, after the CDC exploded, the supplies we found and that handwritten note, it was her sister who left them."
Dale pointed at Leah.
"If they're sisters, then this Miss Calista might be the one who helped us!"
"It was you? You're the one who left those supplies?" Rick's voice was full of disbelief, and his gun lowered a little more without him realizing it.
Shane narrowed his eyes, studying Calista again, suspicion still there, but now mixed with something more complicated.
Calista herself paused for a moment before remembering.
After the CDC, she had left some supplies behind out of sympathy for Rick's group.
Leah had later told her that they found them, and that Jacqui had survived thanks to that encouragement.
She hadn't expected that small act to become a pass at a moment like this.
Calista nodded and gave a small smile.
"I'm glad it helped."
"My God…" Rick and the others finally lowered their guns completely, relief and a hint of embarrassment on their faces.
"Sorry, we were on edge. I'm Rick Grimes. This is Hershel Greene's farm."
He turned slightly, gesturing to the older man beside him.
By now, night had fully fallen.
As the owner of the farm, Hershel was surprised by this sudden reunion, but he remained cautious.
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the three of them, lingering briefly on Merle's metal arm and Calista's youthful face.
"I'm Hershel. This is private property. We understand your situation, and we're grateful for what you did for Rick and the others before. But…"
He paused, his tone calm but firm.
"The farm has its rules. We have to make sure everyone here stays safe. I hope you understand."
"We understand completely, Hershel," Calista said at once, her tone sincere. "We're willing to follow the rules.
The three of us just need some food and water. Once we recover and find transportation, we'll leave. Or we can work in exchange."
She made it clear she was willing to cooperate.
Hershel gave a slight nod, seemingly satisfied.
"Dad, they're not bad people!" Carl spoke up from the side. "Merle… well, but he used to bring back game for the camp."
The kid clearly remembered a few things.
Sophia added softly, "Leah is a good person."
She had heard Carol mention many times that it was because of Leah's directions that she survived, so she already felt close to her.
Daryl stayed silent, his eyes moving between Merle, Leah, and Calista.
Rick looked at Hershel, then at the others, and finally made his decision.
"Hershel, let them stay. We've still got an empty tool shed. They can stay there for now."
Hershel thought for a moment, glancing at the exhausted Calista, then at Daryl's complicated expression, and finally at Rick and the others.
At last, he nodded.
"All right. But we'll keep your weapons for now. That's the rule. And you'll be under observation for a while."
"Of course. Thank you, Hershel."
Calista was the first to remove her rifle and place it on the ground.
Leah followed without a word.
Merle was clearly unhappy, muttering under his breath, but under Calista's sharp look and Daryl's complicated gaze, he still handed over his revolver, grumbling the whole time.
Of course, whether they had really handed over all their weapons was another matter entirely.
...
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