Presley used nimble fingers to unwind the cloth from his head. He winced occasionally, but his wide eyes never left her face. He admired the way she bit her bottom lip to concentrate and the way she paused every time she thought she had hurt him. She was lovely.

“It hasn’t bled for a while.” She said, eying the rags as she placed them off to the side. “You probably don’t have to wear a wrap anymore. I mean you should, but I know you.” She smiled. “You don’t like staying in bed any longer than you have to.”

“Hmm, sounds like somebody I know.” He chuckled. The smile wiped from his face. “How’s Zeva?”

“She’s fine. Just a bruising. She’s not even limping anymore.” She explained. “You missed the funeral.”

“I didn’t want to go.”

She stared down at her hands. “He was my friend.” She whispered. “Why does insanity always happen to the best of people, Daryl?”

“I don’t know.” He brushed the hair from her face. “But it’ll be okay now.”

. . .

Presley pressed a shard of glass at the cross that stood tall at Stefan’s grave. She was alone, with a black dog at her side. She closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. “You went crazy- I understand. I’m pretty sure I’m crazy, too.” She kneeled beside the grave, placing her hand on the upturned grass. She had refused to let them bury him inside the walls of Woodbury. Her friend deserved more than that.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Stef.” She closed her eyes and swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You better be the one to greet me, or I’ll be extremely disappointed in you.” She laughed gently, patting the ground before standing. “I forgive you.” She whispered, turning away and walking away.

It was time to go to Alexandria.

too