Walking Dead Maggie Died Novels & Stories

"But if she took on some of your duties... a distraction, perhaps... it might slow the curse's progression..." "You want me to give her my authority over the pack." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. The room fell silent. "Hazel," Lyra stroked my cheek. "You know how much we love you. But Meggie… she's…" "She's dying, right?" Just then, the soft sound of footsteps came from the doorway. Meggie entered, her face pale, looking pitifully at everyone in the room. "Sorry I'm late… I just…" She leaned weakly against the doorframe, as if she might collapse at any second.

I had done what I had to do. Or not? "Estelle!" Margaret yelled, approaching at a brisk pace. "Maggie." I hugged her tightly. We had not seen each other for a long time more than we were used to. Maggie was the only widow in the whole pack since wolves usually die in pairs. She was the strongest werewolf in the world. Her hair began to fill with gray, her eyes, always kind and were the color of the forest. Green and captivating. "I was so worried about you, my child." She took my face in her soft hands, analyzing me. She acted like a mother to me from day one.

***THREE DAYS LATER*** Maggie woke up with a grueling headache. The pain in her head and neck would not stop. She doesn’t remember much of what happened, but she does remember being beating up badly, she remembered begging for her life to be spared, and then she thought that her pleas where rejected, she’d thought she was a goner. She did not expect to be alive; she did not expect to wake up, especially in this strange room.

I asked. All humor was swept away from Maggie’s face. “No. Mage Jaye had a daughter, but she was killed in a car wreck as a child, before her powers were strong enough for her to save herself. Jaye wasn’t there. It was a terrible tragedy.” I could tell by her expression that she meant it. I wasn’t a stranger to such tragedies myself, though it was odd to think that my dad likely hadn’t died in the same way--a car crash. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

Maggie’s knees gave out, and she collapsed onto one of the nearby chairs, her body trembling. "No," she whispered, shaking her head violently. "No. No, no, no. She's so young. She can't be dying. She can't!" Alfred knelt beside her, his voice hollow. "Her body is failing her, Maggie. She’s had multiple silent crises before. This one just hit harder. I didn't want to say anything until we were sure, but… we don't have time anymore." Maggie covered her face with her hands, and the sobs escaped uncontrollably. Her chest heaved as the pain burst out of her, unrestrained and raw.

I quickly flicked to the next page to find out how she managed to walk away from her best friend and her first love. But when I got to the next page I was surprised to see it was dated several days ahead. “Day 71. I am heartbroken. I am distraught, but not just for me, but for her boys and her husband. Our dear beautiful Maggie died one week ago, and it all happened so quickly, it is now the worst day of my life and that too for her poor little family. It had started out as such a beautiful day, I was supposed to leave but, when I got to the door, I couldn’t bare to leave without saying goodbye to them all. I had been walking with Iver, I had every intention of telling him I’d be leaving, we

The Lady tried calming the young girl and she managed to do just that, in a few moments Maggie's breath was stable now and she composed herself. Both members of the ‘society’ noted a pattern: the soil of the graves from Helena and Anna were undisturbed while the rest were. "I know this is hard Maggie, but we do have a couple of more questions, is that okay?" Elizabeth said trying to help Maggie through. The frightened girl nodded. "What can you tell me about the deaths of Helena Sawyer and Anna Martin?" the former policeman inquired. "Lorna was my mother…she and Mrs Martin died around 10 years ago, during the plague" Maggie said bravely "Their bodies were incinerated and then buried"

Why were they still waiting? “Iris, get in the house.” Maggie started coughing and my eyes widened when they landed on her. She was sat up against the house, her legs outstretched. Her wrinkled hands clutched at her stomach as crimson stained the front of her dress. Thick, red blood seeped through her fingers. “Maggie.” Scrambling towards her, I didn’t care if my voice carried. I didn't care if they heard me or saw me. Maggie was an elderly, unarmed woman alone and they had shot her.

We join and catch Maggie before she falls to the floor. I rush Maggie to the couch in the office and cover her with a blanket. I turn up the heating and prepare her a drink for when she woke up. I check that she was definitely okay I join the others and clean up the mess we had made, handing out clothes I had stored in case anything happened which required us to shift. I grab us all a whiskey once we had finished and slumped down in my office watching Maggie while she slept. Maggie POV

We still grab a meal together from time to time. Among the four of us, the oldest, Edgar Maguire, was unassuming and kind. He always looked out for us, and we treated him like an older brother. He came from a village and was an orphan that the whole community helped raise. He studied hard, and whenever he had time, he took on part-time jobs to save up for tuition and living expenses. When we were interning, he was the first to land an offer. But the good times didn't last. Three days ago, Edgar was murdered in his apartment. The killer still hasn't been found.