It was dark. The sun had just set behind the mass amount of trees that engulfed the area. The forest wasn't the safest place to be, but there was little choice. Clementine struggled to gather firewood, for it had just rained and most of the wood she found was damp, and unable to be used. She had a small pile of twigs and loose branches that had survived the rain.

She and Christa had been travelling towards Wellington for a few weeks. After Omid was shot and killed all those months ago, Christa had slipped into a depressed state. Not long after, she lost her baby to a miscarriage. It had been a very distressing time for both of them, but they kept going to survive, if not, for each other.

She stepped through the mushy earth, the wet mud caking her ankles in some places. A bit seeped through her thin shoes and she grimaced at the sloshing feeling she had whenever she took a step. She tried to ignore it and spotted a branch a few meters away. She hurried over and squatted down to test it's dryness. It wasn't wet, so she added it to the miniscule pile in her arms. Deciding it would have to do for now, she opted on going back to Christa.

As Clementine turned to head back in the direction towards the camp, She heard a wail. She stopped, frozen in her tracks. A walker? She shook her head. No, it sounded too… alive. She listened again, and heard small, pathetic whimpers coming from her left. She slowly turned, and walked towards the sound cautiously. It probably wasn't the best thing to do, but she was curious.

She peered around a tree, drops of water falling and seeping in through her cap. She spotted a dark figure, huddled between the roots of a tall oak. At first, she was confused at the shape; what appeared to be a quivering lump. But as she looked closer, the lump was a woman, curled up under a large coat. The fabric was pulled over her head, and her dirt-covered legs were held against her chest. Her eyes were wide as she muttered to herself, an occasional sob slipping out. She rocked back and forth as if trying to console herself. Her hands held the coat close to her body, soaked with red stains. Clementine didn't have to guess what it was, she knew.

She edged forwards uncertainly. She had her hand out in front of her body, the firewood tucked under her other arm. Her steps were slow and calculated. She tried to make some noise, so the woman would anticipate her. Even so, the girl did not look up. As Clementine reached her, she glanced up and gasped sharply.

"A-Are you okay?" Clementine asked in a hushed tone. The girl did not respond, and only huddled in closer to the coat. Now getting a better look, the coat was camouflage. The name embroidered on the breast pocket ensured that it was once part of a military uniform. It didn't appear to belong to the girl, as it was most likely twice her size. The girl suddenly let out a sob, her cobalt colored eyes boring into some unknown object. Clementine kneeled down, and held her hand out to the girl. The girl forced her eyes away from whatever she was looking at to stare at the small, filthy hand in front of her.

"Do you need help?" The question didn't seem to register at first, but after a few moments, the girl looked up to Clementine. As more of her face came into view, two long scratch marks that marred her right cheek were revealed. They were bleeding heavily. Clementine suddenly realized a very important factor in this woman.

"Were you bit?" She whispered, backing away slightly. The girl suddenly looked panicked and shook her head, trying to crawl towards Clementine. She shook her head as tears poured out of her eyes.

"N-no!" She forced out, her voice a light soprano. "M-my dad…" She suddenly couldn't speak, and started sobbing into her hands, that clutched the coat tightly against her.

Clementine hesitantly gave her hand to the girl once more, and she released the coat with her right hand to grasp hers. She pulled her up, and started ushering her towards their camp. As they stumbled back, the girl's eyes trailed towards a large figure on the ground, and shrieked loudly. More cries of sadness tumbled out of the girl's mouth. Clementine brought a finger to her lips and shushed her. After looking, she realized the figure was the body of a man. It was no doubt, her father. She sadly tugged the ragged woman along. The noise had most likely attracted any nearby walkers, and they needed to get out of there, fast.

She pulled the girl through the underbrush. A few branches whipped back and struck her across the face, but she wasn't fazed. The girl she dragged along side her clutched onto the coat for dear life with one hand, and Clementine's with the other.

It seemed like hours to Clementine, but soon there was no mistaking the campsite. Christa was trying to get a fire started from what little she had. Clementine winced; Christa would not be happy when she saw what she had brought with her. They had thankfully sidestepped any walkers they came across, much to their relief. The woman had stopped crying after awhile, and focused more on staying quiet along the way. But her oversized coat had made quite some noise, and almost revealed them to the undead a few times, but from the girl's blatant attachment to the thing, there was no way it was going.

Clementine edged in through the bush. She motioned for the girl to remain still, "Christa?" She called out in a low voice. There was rustling, and Christa appeared.

She looked stressed. "I was worried, you were gone for awhile. Did you find anything?" Clementine felt sweat bead on her face. "Uh, kinda?"

"What do you mean kinda?" Christa sighed. "Either you have wood, or you don't."

"I-I may have found more than wood…" Clementine hesitantly pulled the girl out from the bush. Christa balked, unable to say anything. The girl looked ready to bolt at any second.

"Clementine…" Christa said in a low, dangerous tone. Clementine looked scared out of her wits. "You know we can't keep another person! What if she's bit?" She fired off accusations, crossing her arms and glaring at the two girls.

"She told me she wasn't bit!" Clementine fired back. Christa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Did you ever think that maybe she was lying?" She asked, pointing her glare at the mudded woman.

"I wasn't lying!" She cried, surprising both of them by breaking her quiet demeanor. She sends a heated stare at the dark-skinned woman. "I know I'm not bit." She said, assured.

Christa snarled back at her, "How can you be so sure?" It's not that Christa felt any resentment against her, but you could never be too careful.

Tears pricked at the corner of the girl's eyes, but she remained stone-faced. "Because," she sniffed, "My dad made sure that they didn't get me! He died for me!"

Christa grumbled, and looked between the two.

Clementine spoke up. "We can't just leave her. She'll die all by herself!"

"Well Clementine, we can barely feed ourselves! How do you expect to feed another mouth?" Christa reasoned, frowning. It's not that she wanted to let the young girl die, but Clementine and herself were her first priorities. In the apocalypse, it's every man for themselves.

"I-I can find my own food…" The girl murmured. "I used to hunt with my dad regularly. I'm sure I could help." She really wanted to stay. Clementine was right: she would never survive on her own. Plus, it never hurts to have companionship. Hell knows she needed it.

After awhile of arguing in hushed tones and persuasive begging, Christa allowed the girl to stay as long as she pulled her weight, and maybe a little more than that. Clementine gave Christa what she had in terms of firewood, and it kept the fire going for a few more hours.

She was told to lie on a spare blanket, but she settled for curling up with her father's military coat. As she prepared to sleep, and the fire was put out, Clementine approached her.

"I never asked your name…" She whispered, leading into the question. The woman's eyes scrutinized the young girl's, before her face softened. She forced a small smile.

"My name is Caroline. Caroline Harvenger."