Night
The watch was quiet.
Not because the night was safe—but because it was listened to properly. The camp slept in fragments, tense and alert, yet the perimeter held. Two people per approach. No exceptions.
Harry stood just beyond the edge of the firelight, leaning on a spear. He wasn't holding it ready to strike—only feeling its weight, the balance of wood and metal, the distance it placed between him and anything that might come too close.
Daryl stood a little to the right, crossbow in hand. He wasn't staring into the dark. He was listening to it.
"You always stand like that," Daryl said quietly. "Like you already know where they'll come from."
"I know where they might," Harry replied.
They were silent for several minutes. A branch snapped somewhere in the woods. Far off, a low groan carried on the wind.
"About the girls," Daryl said at last. "I didn't hear the words."
"You didn't need to," Harry answered.
"But I understood."
Harry nodded.
"That's enough."
"You're not the kind who explains things twice," Daryl noted.
"Because extra words kill faster than bullets," Harry said.
Daryl huffed softly and didn't ask anything else.
Bolts and Spears
Near dawn, Harry returned to the RV. Inside, it was dark and still, like a vault. He took out several crossbow bolts—ordinary at a glance, but perfectly balanced. Then two spears. Simple. Unadorned. Built for the hand.
He walked back to Daryl.
"These are for you," Harry said, handing over the bolts.
Daryl took one, weighed it in his palm, ran a finger along the head.
"They're… different," he said after a moment.
"Stronger," Harry replied. "They hold up better."
Daryl looked closer. Only then did he notice the fine, shallow markings near the base of the metal—too regular to be scratches. Even. Repeating.
"What's that?" he asked quietly.
"So they don't break on the first hit," Harry said. "And so they bite better."
Daryl didn't comment. He nodded—the way people do when they don't understand everything, but accept the result.
"And these?" he nodded at the spears.
"Distance without noise," Harry said. "You don't always have time to reload."
"Makes sense," Daryl muttered.
After a moment, he added, "You just didn't say a lot."
"And you didn't ask," Harry replied.
That settled it.
Morning and Training
The sun was only beginning to rise when Harry stepped into the camp with a spear in hand.
"If anyone wants to try," he said calmly but loud enough to carry, "come over."
People exchanged looks.
"This isn't for heroics," Harry added. "It's for controlling distance.
Quiet. No gunfire. No panic."
Dale stepped forward first.
"I want to understand how it works," he said.
Andrea followed.
Then two more.
Even Merle stopped nearby, arms crossed.
"A spear?" he scoffed. "You serious?"
"Serious," Harry replied. "It doesn't jam. It doesn't make noise. And it doesn't run out."
Merle hefted one, testing the weight.
"Alright," he said. "Let's see."
For the first time, the camp wasn't just watching.
It was learning.
Supplies
After the training, people drifted off—but the unease remained.
Dale was the first to say it aloud.
"We've got a supply problem."
No one argued.
"We still have food," Dale continued. "But not for long."
Harry went to the RV without a word. When he returned, he brought crates.
"This isn't a solution," he said immediately. "And it's not a gift."
He opened one. Inside—canned food, grains, ration packs.
"This is what I can share," Harry continued. "Part of it.
I'm keeping a reserve. If I don't, that helps no one."
"This'll last a few days," Dale estimated quickly. "Maybe a week, if we're careful."
"Exactly," Harry said. "And then?"
Silence.
"Then we start taking it from the land," Daryl said.
Hunting
They walked a short distance from camp, where the trees thickened.
"There's game out there," Daryl said. "Deer. Boar. Small stuff.
But they hear and see better than people."
"So no gunshots," Harry said.
"Bows. Bolts," Daryl agreed. "And we don't drive anything back toward camp."
Harry's hand brushed the quiver at his back.
"My arrows are treated the same way," he said. "Just done differently."
"That why they don't bend?" Daryl asked.
"And why they don't shatter if you miss bone," Harry replied. "Even if you don't—there's still a chance."
Daryl exhaled slowly.
"I'll want to see that," he said. "After the hunt."
"You will," Harry nodded.
"And no heroics," Daryl added. "If something goes wrong, we pull back."
"No heroics," Harry agreed.
Decision
They returned together.
"Tomorrow morning," Daryl told the camp. "I'm heading into the woods.
Anyone who wants to learn can come—but you listen."
"And you stay quiet," Harry added.
Several people nodded.
"I'll go," Dale said.
"Me too," Andrea added after a moment.
Merle snorted.
"I'll stay here and make sure nobody eats everything before you get back."
That earned a few quiet smiles.
Harry looked at the bow resting against the RV.
At the familiar grip.
At what lay hidden beneath the leather.
For now, this is enough, he thought.
Later, I'll have to decide who else.
Supplies were running out.
But for the first time, there was a plan.
End of Chapter 19