The little blonde girl crouches in the brush, dried leaves and dirt clinging to her boots with the darkened spatters of crimson on the leather. "C'mon..." she coos, sweetly tempting the thing out of the rustling bushes with the half disemboweled rabbit in her hand. Gingerly held out towards muffled groans with blood soaked into it's grey fur and and a small slop of organs hanging from the slit up its stomach. Lizzie sheaths the knife, a hopeful smiling pulling at the corner of her lips as she slowly gets to her feet. "That's it, c'mon..." she smiles at the hands that claw through the bushes, hauling the body that follows into the small clearing where the girl stands, thin, ravenous groans falling from its pale lips.
The pallor of its skin confirms its state, as if the gouge in its neck didn't already. Dried blood crusted onto its clothes and eyes vacant and lusting for flesh. But it's only small. And it hasn't eaten in days. It's tired, but starving. "Here girl" Lizzie watches the thing tentatively as she dangles the animal over its open, clawing hand. With a wheezed groan it snatches it, sinks its teeth into the raw flesh already exposed for them. "You're hungry...My name's Lizzie, what's yours?" she asks as if it might answer. She knows it can't really talk, but those groans, what if it's trying? The girl waits a moment to see if anything will come of it, but the walkers bloodied, dirty hair hangs around its hollowed cheeks as it feeds. The meat is stripped from the bones and fur in a matter of minutes and the sorry carcas is dropped into the dirt. Bloodied lips settle and eyes land on the blonde girl in front of them. Still no name. "...You're not even old" her tone is almost jealous as she looks over the young body of the walker. She's right though, she isn't. Just a child, like her. Lizzie doesn't take it any further, only begins to take shuffled, unfazed steps backwards as the dead girl begins to advance. "We could be friends if you want, i know you're not monsters" the other still doesn't answer her, only staggers further forward. "I like your shirt" she dares to point a hand forward to almost touch the faded blue of the walkers top, the peeling image of a rainbow printed across the front, half tucked in to combat shorts that fall torn and filthy over her battered little legs. "...Y'wanna play tag? Y'gotta play nice though -You're it!" with a tap on their muddy shoulder she darts off smiling. And the little dead girl from the woods can only stagger after.