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A/N: I will say that this story is based on the world of the show, not the graphic novel. I have yet to read it, though now I really want to. This is going to be slightly AU, in that Sophia is found alive, and others die/don't, differing in order to the show. I thought her being alive would really alter the dynamic among the group. I am introducing 3 OC's.

Disclaimer: The only ones I own are the ones you never saw on TV, or read in the comic.

This shit didn't sit with him. Waitin'. Sittin' on his hands. Fuckin' useless bunch of roundabout talk gettin none of them nowhere. And in the meantime, Sophia was out in the woods, alone. At least, hopefully alone. Daryl Dixon had been nearly as reluctant as Carol, the girl's mother, to leave the stretch of highway they'd last seen her. It was easier to be there, to track from the source, than having to come at it from the backside, from this farm. It was too easy to miss an important sign, coming at it like that. But he hadn't been kidding when he'd told Andrea what he had. The kid was lucky. She had people lookin'. People who cared.

Daryl chewed silently on the inside of his cheek while Rick and Shane argued the finer points of priorities. Again. Not like Daryl didn't know Rick's already. Not that he even really blamed the man. His son, shot up and clinging to life. Rick's mind was understandably occupied, and Daryl might have had something to say if Rick had seen otherwise. He was a good man, a good father. If only everyone could be so lucky. And Shane, well Shane had a soft spot for Carl too, so really the two idiots were arguin' for no particular fuckin' reason at all.

And he just itched to be done with it. To move, to get back on Sophia's trail. He knew he was usin' Sophia as an excuse, but really, what else did he have to do? This gave him a purpose. Moving had purpose, hunting had purpose. Sittin' on his ass on a farm? Didn't suit him. Truth of it though? After Atlanta, after the CDC, they needed to find Sophia. They needed this win. Truth? After Merle? He needed it too.

Carol met his eyes from across the porch. She had her arms clenched close to her chest, gnawing at the fingernails on her right hand. She looked pale, and fretful, which for Carol, was saying something. She was quieter than the rest, and the fear was easy to see. But there was a survivor there too, a woman with more grit and fight than even she knew. He'd seen it for himself after she'd turned her former husband's skull into bloody pulp. He nodded to her once, readjusted the crossbow across his shoulder, then swung his legs up and over the porch railing he'd been perched on, dropping onto the grass below before stalking away without so much s a glance to the others. Screw it, he had a kid to find.

The bottom portion of an old farmhouse pantry wasn't exactly luxuriously roomy, even for a skinny preadolescent girl, but to Sophia it may as well have been a four star hotel with mints on the pillows. Especially after she found the blanket and unsoiled pillow. It was getting late, and she was exhausted. It had taken her most of the day to get clear of the three walkers that followed her, not the ones that she had seen making her way back to the highway, these were different. But she was so lost.

She'd been trying to do what Mr. Grimes had told her. Head back to the highway, the sun on her left shoulder. But then she'd seen the two walkers, sidling out of some brush on her left, and her course had taken a sudden and abrupt turn. Terror had taken control of her feet and she'd just ran, and ran. Til when she'd finally stopped in the dying light of the day, assured at last that they had not seen or followed her, she realized that she stood alone amongst the trees. Trees that all looked exactly the same. And she realized the that she was lost, again. Tears came, and she clutched her doll close up against her chest. She didn't dare cry out either.

She'd spent that first night as high up in a good sized tree as she could manage. The rough bark scratched her bare arms and legs, but she didn't care. She wasn't spending the night on the forest floor. Uh uh. No way. But the thing about sleeping in trees? You were always afraid you were gonna fall, so you really didn't sleep at all. Mostly she just cried, shivering as the temperature dropped in the cloudless black sky.

In the morning she shimmied back down the tree. She tried to remember which way she'd come, but it looked the same as it had the night before. There were just trees, everywhere. So she'd started walking. She stumbled upon the three walkers in a small clearing, devouring what was left of some animal. Deer, bear, dog, who could tell? She hadn't meant to scream, but they'd surprised her. She'd turned and fled. A couple of times later in the day she'd tried stopping, but it felt like every time she'd caught her breath they were there again and she was off again.

The house had been a stroke of pure, dumb luck. She'd happened upon it late in the afternoon. She'd stumbled up to it on legs that had gone from tired to trembling some good while before. Arms hung weakly at her side, and her doll dangled at her fingertips. The windows on it were boarded, but thankfully the front door was unlocked. None of the walkers were in sight, so she'd gone in, closing the door behind her and latching the deadbolt.

She wanted to check all the rooms, but her legs took her no farther than the kitchen. She went to the refrigerator first, out of habit maybe more than anything. The foul stench of rotting food hit her nose the moment she opened it, but she almost didn't notice. Rotting food had nothing on rotting human flesh. She couldn't believe her eyes when she saw it, a bottle of water, nearly half full. She reached eagerly past rotten tomatoes and molding asparagus for it. She drank most of it without taking her lips off the bottle, taking huge gulps as the excess sluiced over her chin.

There was a little left at the bottom, a swallow or two at most, but Sophia carefully sealed the bottle, setting it on the dusty kitchen table. Then she shut the door. Thirst quenched, she realized her stomach was still growling. Not trusting anything in the fridge, Sophia turned her attention to the rest of the kitchen. There was a pantry door hung half open, so she went to investigate. Cereal maybe? Some nuts or a can of beans? Her face fell when she saw that all had been left in the cupboard were spices and baking soda. About to shut the door, she spied a can on the floor. Sardines.

Outside, there came a scratch. Sophia jumped, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Tears pricked at her eyes again. She wanted her mom. She wanted to be back with the other in the caravan, where the fear of what the world had become was muted by the strength of those with whom she travelled. Mr Grimes and Mr Shane, kept her and her mom safe. She missed them all. Clutching the sardines and her doll close to her chest, she knelt, wedging herself into the space beneath the lowest shelf. It was a tight fit, but she could manage, and the feeling of walls pressing around her was somehow comforting. She devoured the sardines in the dark without tasting them, and was asleep within minutes.

It was hard to leave the house the next day. In fact, she put it off until late in the morning. But it wasn't like she could stay. No more food, no water. And they were waiting for her on the highway. Her mom would be there. If she was sure of only one thing that was it, she had to get back to her. So she left her little safe haven behind, and she walked. She had no way to know that had she only stayed a few hours longer, Daryl would have stumbled upon her.

As it was, Sophia's only directional guide was the river bed. If she could find the river, she thought, she could find her way back to the highway. Find where Mr. Grimes had hidden her, then keep the sun on her left shoulder. She would do it right this time, she assured herself. She had to.

"We've been walking for hourrrssss..."

"Kyle, hon, I love you like my brother, mostly because you are, but it's been like 30 minutes, tops." Brown eyes flicked briefly to the young man walking beside and two steps to the rear, rolling skyward. He returned the look by curling his lip in a sneer, and then sticking out his tongue. "Mature Kyle, real mature."

"We wouldn't be out here at all if someone had thought enough to stow a couple extra gas containers before we left Savannah," a third voice broke in, sounding far less amused at the situation that his fellow compatriots.

"Well maybe is someone had listened and taken the 50 mile to the gallon hybrid I found, instead of the 10 mile to the gallon SUV, we wouldn't be here either." The woman with the brown eyes shot back at the third man.

He, Ryan, huffed a little, hunching his wide shoulders forward in a shrug. "The SUV could take more gear," he countered stubbornly.

"Yeah, because we're seriously burdened by a copious amount of stuff," she retorted, hiking her woefully empty knapsack higher on her left shoulder. She kept her right hand on the hilt of a large hunting blade. For all the attention she paid the two men she travelled with, her eyes never ceased roaming the forest for long. It would be easy here for one of those dead things to creep out from behind some tree and get the drop on them if they didn't stay wary. And wary was what had kept the three of them alive, for this long at least.

"Ohhh, lover's spat," Kyle's dark eyebrows shot up into his hairline, dark ringlets matting over half his brow. He really did need a haircut. "Don't want lil ole me gettin in the middle of that mess. Leave me out of it!" Ryan grumbled incoherently and stalked ahead, while Kyle shot his sister an encouraging smile. When the two of them got into it, they really got into it. Best to save everyone that trouble. 'Thank you,' she mouthed.

The three lapsed into a tense, but welcome silence after that. The siblings let Ryan take point. The hulking, former college linebacker preferred it that way. Still, she eyed the gun Ryan kept holstered in his belt warily. She never got much of a sense that he actually knew how to use it. And what good was it if all it did was attract every single geek nearby? Ryan didn't see it that way though, and carrying it made him feel safer, stronger. So fine, let him hold on to his delusion.

As the afternoon light waned, all three travelers grew worried. Stuck out in the dark, with no shelter and minimal firepower, was a less than ideal situation. So when the sound of heavy breathing and breaking branches reached their ears, all of them tensed, huddling close together in a circle. The woman took out her knife and Kyle hefted a baseball bat in both hands. Ryan drew his gun, but the woman put a restraining hand on his bicep.

None of them were ready for a little girl to come sprinting out of the undergrowth, head cocked behind her, flying headlong into Kyle. The kid screamed, thrashing wildly. Quickly stowing the hunting knife, the woman wrapped her arms around the kid, pulling her close and clamping her right hand down over her mouth. Kid was a God damn beacon. "Hey, hey," she kept her voice low and soothing, even though soothed was the very last thing she felt. "It's okay. You're okay. We're not gonna hurt you."

Though she could feel the small body trembling uncontrollably, the little girl nodded beneath her hand. "Please don't scream." Another nod. Slowly, she pulled her hand away from the kid's mouth and turned her so she could see her face. The kid's face was streaked with dirt, her hair matted and tangled, but all cleaned up she would be quite pretty. Maybe ten or twelve, and in need of more than a couple good meals. Her blue T-shirt was nearly gray with filth and she clutched a raggedy doll close to her chest.

"What's your name kid?" A hundred other questions raced through the woman's mind. What the hell was a little girl doing out in the woods by herself? Where were her parents? How long had she been out here? How in hell had she managed to survive? But given how freaked the kid seemed, she opted for getting a name first.

"S...Sophia," the girl finally stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," the woman managed a smile. "Sophia, honey, where are your parents?" Sophia shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.

"We don't have time for this," Ryan muttered from nearby. "It's gettin dark. We need to find a place to hunker down, not play babysitter to some kid."

"Well we can't just leave her," Kyle interjected. "She's got geek bait written all over her."

"Better her than us," Ryan responded with a snarl. "We take her, she'll slow us down."

"Not up for discussion Ryan," the woman hissed, slipping Sophia's hand into her own. "Now can we go?" She turned to Sophia. "Honey, we'll have to find your folks in the morning, okay?" The girl didn't answer. She'd gone stock still, her face draining of blood. She began to backpedal. "What...?"

The smell hit her first, fetid and reeking. The woman's heart slammed to a halt. She pulled Sophia close to her, left hand hugging her protectively even as her right drew her knife. "Kyle! Ryan!" She hissed a quick warning, but they'd smelled it too. At her side, Sophia whimpered. Brown eyes flew all around, scanning the ever deepening shadows in the trees. She couldn't see. Where was it?

Suddenly, something grabbed hold of her knapsack, yanking her from her feet. She went down with Sophia still in her grasp, and the child shrieked in terror. The wind rushed from her lungs as the girl fell on top of her stomach. She heard the thing snarl, heard fabric rip as it tore at her backpack. She swiped blindly at the thing with her knife hand behind her head. She released Sophia and the child scrambled to her feet, and the woman attempted to shrug free of her pack.

She got one arm clear before a rotting hand missing it's index finger grabbed a hold of the front of her shirt. Then there was a sound of rushing air and heavy whump, and she was free. Kyle stood over her, panting, bloody bat in hand. The woman hurried to her feet, wrapping her brother in a one armed hug. But her relief was short lived. All around them, shadows stirred, as first one more geek emerged out of the darkness, and then another, and another. "Shit," she breathed. They were everywhere.

She pushed her brother in Sophia's direction. "We gotta get out of here!" she called, not bothering to be quiet anymore. "Kyle, get the kid!" She darted forward, sinking the blade hilt deep into the dead thing's forehead, before retreating a few paces, knife at the ready. She heard Ryan's gun go off somewhere close by. "I'll cover you!" she yelled, knocking another dead appendage aside before thrusting forward once more with her knife.

"But..."

"Get her out of here!" The woman yelled, sparing her bother the briefest glance. Kyle's face was taut as he turned from his sister, scooping Sophia up in one strong arm. The kid buried her face in his neck. The gun went off again. She edged after Kyle, keeping him in the corner of her eye, even as three geeks closed ranks around her. She sidestepped cattily, knife poised, taking out one of the thing's knees with a well placed kick. It went down, but kept coming. They always kept coming. She saw the kids doll in the leaves where she'd dropped it when Kyle had swooped her up. She stooped to retrieve it, she wasn't sure why, and stuffed it into her waistband.

Out of nowhere, a third geek appeared out of the dark, cutting her off from Kyle, Ryan and Sophia. She heard Kyle call out. "Run!" she bellowed. Then she darted back the way she'd come. One was directly in her path. With a grunt, she buried the knife in it's skull. As the geek crumpled to the earth, her blood soaked grip on the hunting knife slipped and she felt dread burst like a helium balloon inside her chest. "Shit, shit, shit," she cursed. She found her feet locked in place, gaze slipping between the knife embedded in the head of the creature at her feet, and the two remaining that lurched ever closer. The indecision lasted only a moment. Two against one. Not horrific odds, if she had her knife, but she didn't. And in the time it would take for her to retrieve her weapon they would be right on top of her. So she embarked on the only rational course of action left to her. She bolted.

No one had ever accused her of being a world class runner. Hell, no one had ever accused her of even being a 'good' runner. Not even in the prime of her collegiate athletic life. She'd always run only because it was necessary, an evil piece of the cardio puzzle leading to physical fitness. She ran now because it was necessary too, but for an entirely different reason. Her life. It was amazing what fear for one's life could do for a person's half mile split time.

But these geeks they'd come across were fresher than most, less hobbled by their own rotting, decaying appendages. They stayed close, close enough to still smell her anyway, close enough to just keep coming.

It was hard going in the dark, twisting brambles and roots threatening every step to take her down. Even the moon, bright and nearly full was shrouded til nearly gone by the thick, intertwining branches and leaves overhead. The going forced her pace to slow, because as much as she wanted to fly headlong and heedless over her chosen path, a broken ankle would be the end of her for sure.

One for sure had followed her. It was close enough for her to hear the clicking of its teeth, the low growl in its throat. She spotted another to her left, one that noticed her too, and veered in her direction.

A terrified whine escaped her lips as she made another desperate push forward, shoving herself through a gnarled stand of bushes. But she hadn't paid enough attention, and her foot found something unexpected. Empty air. She fell with a screech and windmilling arms, body twisting. She fell on the flat of her back, her head snapping back onto something hard. She saw a flash of red, and then her vision swam, fading to pinpoints. She stayed conscious long enough to see the first geek come through the same set of bushes she just had. She saw its foot hit the same dead air. And she saw it falling towards her, the rotting end of her life, just before she blacked out.

The first thing she noticed when she came to was the weight. "Ugh, God Ryan get off me," she grumbled. The second thing she noticed was the smell. And she remembered.

Panic filled her limbs with life. She flailed wildly, legs kicking, finger tearing at soft, wet earth as she dragged herself free. The body on top of her did not aid, or struggle, or move. Yanking the last of herself clear, she scrambled away on hands and knees, skin crawling, fighting the urge to be sick.

Grabbing a large rock in her right hand, she jumped to her feet and turned, ready to fight. But there was no need. The living dead thing had managed to impale itself on the broken branch of a felled tree. It had sunk straight through it's right eye, stopping somewhere in its skull. Had she fallen any farther left it could have been her. She shuddered and let the rock fall from her hand. Falling on top of her like it had, had probably saved her life. Dragging footprints of the second geek circled haphazardly up and down the stream bed before wandering off. Irony, right there.

As her pulse returned to normal, she became aware of how much she hurt. Her neck was stiff and her head throbbed. Gingerly, she reached back. No blood, thankfully. She looked around, trying to gain her bearings. The chill quickly leaving the air told her it was still morning, though maybe late. She peered up, shading her eyes with her hand as she located the sun. East. Not that that helped too much, since she had not a clue which direction she had come from the night before.

The best course of action would be to, of course, climb out where she'd fallen in and retrace her steps. A quick inspection of the riverbank nixed that idea shortly. The walls of the creek bed were more than ten feet high, totally sheer, and composed of soft, crumbling earth. A chunk of it broke easily away beneath her hand. No, climbing was out. She'd have to keep traveling until she found a place along the bank more feasible to get out. With a sigh she stooped, pickled up the rock she'd discarded once already and began her solitary trudge up the creek, walking in the silt in the opposite direction of the tracks of the still mobile geek.

Nearing midday, with the glare of the sun blinding her off the slowly meandering water, she heard something. The alarmed cry of an animal? A man's voice? She stopped at once, giving heavy consideration to the possibility that she was delirious. Her stomach rumbled painfully for food, and though the little creek taunted her, she doubted the water was potable. So she trudged on, the silt sucking at her boots, sometimes so deep it covered her ankles. To her dismay she found the banks of the creek growing higher, if perhaps less sheer.

Around a bend in the river she stopped dead. Another hundred yards or so in front of her, a small fall poured down into a swirling eddy, feeding the trickling creek. The crashing sound of breaking shrubbery made her heart slam in her chest. Her eyes swept desperately around her. The dead. The yell that came next ripped her eyes off the creek bed and up the left side of the ravine. Something was falling, something large and heavy. At first she couldn't make it out, but some halfway down the slop she saw it. A man, tumbling uncontrollably down the hill.

He came to a jarring halt on his back in a pool of stagnant water. He didn't move. She couldn't move either. Was he dead? Was he one of 'the' dead? She couldn't be sure, and until she was, she wasn't moving.

Out of the undergrowth on the far side of the falls, another figured emerged. And this one was definitely dead. She let out a small gasp, pressing herself hard up against the bank, and readjusted her grip on her rock. But the dead thing didn't head in her direction. Instead it moved ponderously toward the man on his back.

She watched. She could run. Hell, the smart thing to do would be run. But that meant leaving someone. To be eaten. That single thought was enough to break her out of her frozen position. The geek had reached the man, lowering itself to its knees at it pawed at the man's legs. She crept forward, quickly, and as stealthily as she could manage.

Preoccupied with its find, it never noticed her. She slammed her rock against eh back of its skull with all the force she could muster. it fell forward over the man's legs. She hit it again, and again, and again, until her whole fist would have fit inside the hole she'd made. Disgusted, she dropped the rock, plunging her hands into the water, purging her skin of the old blood and pieces of decaying gray matter. Then, grunting with effort, she rolled the thing off the man's legs, and bent over him for a closer inspection. God, but she wished she'd paid more attention to the emergency aid section of her health class in high school. He was breathing at least. Check that. And thank God.

Blood colored his temple just below his hair line. Choppy, uneven brown hair stuck at odd angles to a weathered face. His pants had holes everywhere, and the plaid shirt he wore had no sleeves, revealing strong arms. A crossbow lay by his right shoulder. She leaned forward, pressing her fingers awkwardly against his neck, trying to get a pulse. He stirred when she touched him, murmuring something she almost didn't catch. A name.

Angry blue eyes snapped open suddenly. She lurched backward even as he sat up, but his hand found her neck just the same. Strong fingers wrapped themselves around her throat and squeezed. She gagged, clawing desperately at his hands. She couldn't make him let go, and she couldn't breathe. An odd thought flashed through her head. Being choked to death, in the midst of the zombie apocalypse, was the absolute last way she'd thought she'd die.

Chapter 1

Okay, please review guys! I have a sketchy outline of where this is gonna go, and please, let me know any feedback you have!