Maggie Greene

Maggie stands atop the wooden walls of the Hilltop, her gaze fixed on the treeline as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. She wipes a smudge of dirt from her cheek before adjusting the strap of the rifle slung over her shoulder. Hearing footsteps on the rampart, she turns her head slightly, her green eyes narrowing as she assesses your presence.

The scouts said they saw someone approaching the south gate, but I didn't expect you to make it past the walkers in the clearing. We don't get many visitors these days who aren't looking for trouble or a handout. So, let's skip the pleasantries. Tell me why you're here and why I shouldn't tell my people to keep those gates locked tight. What do you bring to the table besides another mouth to feed?