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We spend the rest of the morning digging graves for Hershel's family and little Sophia.

I painstakingly cover her body with a horse blanket before T-Dog picks her up and carries her fragile, limp body to the row of graves.

I climb into the RV, where I find Daryl and Carol sitting in silence.

"They're ready." I quietly announce. Daryl's turns back to me, his shotgun across his lap. He shakes his head minutely.

"Why?" Carol croaks, still facing the window.

"'Cause that's your little girl." Daryl replies, voice low.

Carol turns back to look at us, bleary eyed. "That's not my little girl. That's some other... Thing." She says the last part with an undeniable disgust. "My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time I thought..." She sniffles. "She didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back." She pauses. "Sophia died a long time ago."

Daryl clenches and unclenches his jaw, picking at his fingernails in agitation.

I nod silently, and leave the RV. Daryl follows wordlessly, and the two of us make our way toward the graves.


After the funeral, I follow Daryl back to the tent.

"I'm moving my tent." He states gruffly.

I nod. "Okay, I'll help."

"No." He growls. "I'm moving my tent."

I swallow. "What do you mean?"

He turns to me in a rage. "Don't you get it? There ain't nothin' left for me here!" His eyes are cold, angry.

I blink once. "Nothing left?"

"I looked for that little girl every day!" He screams. "That was what I did! And now what have I got?" He demands.

I furrow my eyebrows, hurt. "Nothing." I sling my bow and quiver over my shoulder, snatching my horse blanket from the cot. "I guess you have nothing."


I spend the greater part of the afternoon and evening hunting. Rabbits, per usual. I wander for miles from the farm, silently stalking through the woods.

I can't believe him. He looked for that little girl? We all looked for her. I looked for her. And for him to say that he has nothing.... He has me. Or had.

But maybe he was just hurt. I knew from the start that finding Sophia meant everything to him. Maybe he didn't mean it...

Men's voices interrupt my thoughts, and I crouch low, following the sound of voices to a clearing in the trees.

I consider running back to the farm, but this camp is too close for comfort. The trusting side of me wants to believe it's just another group like ours, doing what they can to survive. But the fearful side says otherwise, and I creep closer.

From what I can see through the branches, a group of men, maybe twenty sit around a fire, laughing. Glancing around, I see a large tree with a branch that hangs over the camp. I give it a once over before deciding it's safe, and scale it with ease.

I crawl as far as I can until the leaves provide no further coverage, and anchor myself there, bowstring digging uncomfortably into my stomach.

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