The wire of the bucket handle bit into my palm as I heaved it onto the picnic table. It's contents, an assortment of tools, clanged together loudly in the plastic container. The bucket was supposed to be taken to Jim and Dale who were tinkering on the RV like they had been for as long as I could remember, perhaps ever since arriving in the gorge to begin with. However, I had been working all morning and I needed a break. I was sure that they could wait a few extra minutes on their tools because, if we're being honest, it couldn't be that important that I get the items to the two gentlemen or they would have gotten them themselves. Besides, the heavy bucket was seconds away from cleaving my hand right in two.

Plopping down on the bench seat, I swung my legs around and grabbed the neckline of my shirt, hauling it up and stretching the fabric to wipe at the sweat dripping into my eyes. I felt like a mess, and I knew I looked like one too. My hair was braided but even then it hung to my waist in a thick rope that had become frayed and loose since I'd fashioned it this morning. My skin was dirt and oil smudged, my nails caked with hard lye from scrubbing shirts with homemade soap. I had had a busy morning, busier than normal. It started with my usual pre-dawn run around the quarry, followed by breakfast and my daily chores. These consisted of things like laundry, dishes, and cleaning my shared tent.

Somehow, through one event or another, I had also gotten roped into babysitting duty which was something I actively tried to avoid. There had been a screw up with the delegating, and Amy was double errand-ed to laundry duty rather than her usual babysitting. I had been volunteered by Mom, which had rubbed me the wrong way, but after two hours of being manhandled by my little brother and his merry band of demon spawn, I was exhausted. It didn't help that it was brutally hot outside, the sun shining fierce over my head, searing the sensitive skin under my eyes. The sting emanating from them now let me know that a sunburn was well on its way.

"Katie!"

I almost growled at the sound of my name, but instead I hung my head for a moment before rising. I just needed five minutes to myself without someone else calling for my assistance. I was well known around camp, mostly since the leader of our ragtag group was a man I considered to be my uncle. Even without that sometimes-helpful-sometimes-debilitating relationship, it was easy to stay in good terms with everyone in the small settlement as long as you followed the unspoken rules.

Ah, the rules. They went as followed: don't be an ass, don't be lazy, and don't be stupid. Short, sweet, and to the point. It seemed, to me at least, that I had a little more practice in those areas than others. Was I biased? Maybe. I wasn't Mother Teresa, or anything, but I was always there to lend a helping hand…maybe not willingly, all the time, but I was still there and my hand was still extended. It had earned me a reputation of being a constant assistant and worker bee throughout the certain group that I dwelled in with my mother and brother.

As I pushed to my feet, taking the time to give a languid stretch that had my back popping and my legs quivering with released tension, I took a quick scan around the camp to see who it was who had called for me. A number of people milled around me, most who's names I didn't know despite a few months of living with one another. The one person who was missing, though, was my other half. The ying to my yang. The gravy to my biscuits. The Robin to my Batman. The cheese to my grits. The…well, there were several other pairings I could go on with for a very long time. Point being, Glenn wasn't here.

Glenn was currently on one of his solo runs into the city, just a brief recon to scope out where he was going to be going tomorrow. Although we'd only known each other for a short while, he'd quickly grown to become one of my favorite people left on this planet. He's my buddy, my run partner, my voice of reason, and my cohort in crime. A few times, he'd even been my alibi. I didn't have an older sibling, but he was as close to one as I would get, both before and now. We bonded rather quickly seeing as even though he was almost a decade older than me, we shared many of the same interests. Portal was good, Marvel kicked DC's ass but Batman would beat the shit out of Superman, and chocolate was a million times better than vanilla.

Not only that, but we both shared an almost suicidal need for an adrenaline rush, it seemed. Like I said before, we were run partners. Him and I would go on runs into the city, much to my mother's displeasure, and bring back miscellaneous things the group needed. This hadn't been easy to convince Lori and Shane into letting me do, let me tell you. You would think that, at sixteen years old, I'd be more than capable of being responsible for my own actions. You would be wrong. Very wrong.

In fact, the first few times me and him did venture into the city, I had snuck out of camp. Shane was a busy man, and therefore he didn't have time to watch me as he went about his leader duties. Lori was…more or less concerned with Carl, when she was watching him at least. Most of the time, she left that to me while she frolicked around camp barking orders to others. So, it had been relatively easy to slip past their noses, and all I had to do was lie to Glenn and tell him they said it was cool. He might not be able to tell a bluff to save his life, but the guy also had absolutely zero radar for when a lie was being thrown right in his face.

Lying and subterfuge had kind of been my cup of tea before the fall of civilization, and the proof of it lay in stories that Shane and my mother could tell for the next three years. I wasn't the best kid growing up, I'd be the first to admit to that. Mom and Dad had tried their hardest to keep their constant fighting and bickering and utter unhappiness behind closed doors, but I had caught on pretty quick. You could only blame so much of the palpable tension on bills or work before the excuse became redundant. It wasn't until last year, though, when I found the proof of how far their relationship had been shattered when I had started acting out. Plus, being the daughter of a policeman, it was only a matter of time before I rebelled against the oppressive authority that was the justice system…at that time of my life, I may or may not have been watching too many FREE THE PEOPLE documentary videos on YouTube.

Being sixteen with no job, no money, and no vehicle, my way of rebellion had to be creative and cheap. That is what led to a few bad decisions on my part. My ears were decorated with multiple piercings, small hoops dangling from each puncture all the way up my ear lobes. It was pure luck that they were mostly even as they had been done by a girl in my sophomore class with a needle and an ice cube after school. Likewise, my belly button had a small stud impaled in it under my t-shirt. That had been done by another friend, but I hadn't gotten as lucky. It had gotten infected and I'd had to reveal it to my parents in order for them to take me to the doctors to get the necessary antibiotics.

I had a small assortment of tattoos that I had gotten, also without my parent's permission, thanks to the older brother of an acquaintance who will remain anonymous to my death bed. The guy had been an up-and-coming tattoo artist and I'd volunteered to let him use me as his canvas. My right ring finger was adorned with an inky black outline of a claddagh ring that encircled the whole finger, a piece of artwork that my best friend Hendrick had also adorned as a symbol of our bond. The ink work was shaky but still well-done for a newbie to the artform.

My right forearm had been added later in life by the same guy, but it was much clearer and clean. The silhouette of a crow was blackened into the inside of my wrist, wings spread and talons sharp, about the size of my fist. Under it in curving text, the words corvus oculum corvi non eruit were scrawled. I had a thing for Latin. It was a dead language, so the meaning was often unknown to strangers unless they took the time to research it. The tattoos, unlike the piercings, were a little more than just teenage rebellion—they were personal. They were for me, reminders for myself, for my enjoyment and benefit. They were my personal stories. My parents hadn't seen the symbolism behind it, though. Mom and claimed I looked like a thug and that it would be harder to get a job or accepted into a decent school. Dad had given me a deeply disappointed look, eyeing the reddened skin and bandage with resignation.

But, I was getting ahead of myself. My tattoos were from the past, and I was very much living in the present. The city-runs were a bit more than rebellion, as well. It felt good to get out and actually contribute to the group. I could only help so much by scrubbing pans and underwear. Besides, somebody had to watch Glenn's back when he was out there. It might as well be me.

Of course, I eventually was caught and had on my hands three very unhappy individuals. But, although my calculated risk earned me two weeks of dish duty and emptying the RV's latrines, neither Shane nor my mother could tell me I wasn't capable of handling my own out there anymore. So, when Glenn's next run came around and I asked to go…Shane had still said no. But, even though he knew I was going to go anyway, he didn't try to stop me. Mom flipped, but there was little she could do save chaining me to the RV's grated front. She'd thought about it…I knew she had.

My mother is Lori Grimes and Carl is my little brother. We made it out of Atlanta with the help of my father's partner, Shane Walsh, who was like an uncle to me and Carl. My father is…was...Rick Grimes was dead, now. He was shot weeks before the world went to hell and fell into a coma after surgery. When shit started hitting the fan and we were trying to evacuate to Atlanta, thinking it was a safe zone, Shane went to try and get him from the hospital. It was too late. The machines that were keeping him alive malfunctioned and he died in that hospital room. Since then, Shane had stepped into the role that my Dad's death had left, but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like Dad was really dead. I suppose that's what happened when you didn't get to see a body, didn't get to see proof. I didn't have the closure I needed.

Things with my mother were strained, but that wasn't any real surprise. Even before the Turn, we hadn't gotten along all that well. I had been a Daddy's girl through and through, and with as much as my parents had fought, I was almost always on Dad's side. He confided in me when he couldn't Lori, and that forged a deep bond between us. Therefore, whenever he was on her shit list, I almost always was too. It wasn't that I liked the tension between me and my mother, but you couldn't always take back words and apologies didn't always work. A lot of things had happened between us.

Carl was three years younger than me; although he thought he was already sixteen by the way he acted. If I was being honest, he was the main reason I didn't get any sleep. I was always tasked with looking out for him, making sure he didn't get into trouble or something like that, on top of my other responsibilities. That's a job for a mother, but, mine was always disappearing randomly throughout the day. She left her rules behind, though. Mom made it clear that she didn't want him leaving camp, but what did he do every chance he got? He pushed every boundary that Mom set for him, and got away with it for the most part with a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist. He was a brat, alright? That's what happened when you didn't spank your kids. I got spanked when I was his age. What the hell happened to discipline? To be fair, I probably hadn't set a very good example for him with the way I constantly snuck off on my own. And even with discipline, I had turned into something of a disappointment…maybe it was just in the Grimes DNA to do thing you shouldn't.

T-Dog and Jacqui were a tent or two down from mine. I wasn't one hundred percent sure that they were a couple, but it seemed to me that asking would be inappropriate. Everyone assumed it anyway, and the two never bothered denying it. Jim, the mechanic, was a very silent man who kept to himself like a self-imposed pariah. It made me a little uneasy to be around him sometimes. I lived in a household where everyone expressed themselves through explosive actions and raised voices. His calmness and tranquility…I don't know, it just bothered me. It felt like he was a body of tumultuous water being held back by a simple dam.

Amy and Andrea were sisters from a state over, Florida. They were complete opposites of one another regardless of their physical similarities. Amy was your typical college girl, probably someone I would have hated in another world, but her carefree and laidback personality was a breath of fresh air…especially when compared to her sister. Andrea was older by almost ten years, I think, and I remember someone telling me she had been a civil rights lawyer. Yeah, it all made sense; she had a stick shoved up somewhere unpleasant. She played mother more than she did sister, something that Amy like to complain about whenever she got the chance.

The Dixon brothers were infamous in our group, treated like wild animals by almost everyone. If you didn't mess with them, though, they didn't seem to mess with you (most of the time). Merle was the oldest, the loudest and the most boisterous, the easiest to anger, and he had a drug problem to boot. A real package deal that one was. Daryl was the younger brother and almost as different from Merle as Amy was to Andrea. He didn't like to start things, from what I could tell, but he didn't have a damn problem finishing them. No drug problem from what I could tell from my long-distance ogling, but he went along with everything Merle decided, and in my opinion that was almost just as bad. Despite their inflammatory presence, they could hunt. That was a major asset to us, so they earned their keep that way.

The Peletier family made me want to cry and spit at the same time. It was heartbreaking to watch their domestic life play out like a sad reality show for everyone at camp to see. A reality show because, even though everyone saw what was happening, nobody did a damn thing to stop it…myself included. Carol was a kind older woman, unusually meek and soft-spoken. She had a daughter, Sophia, who was about Carl's age and cavity inducingly sweet. The patriarch of the family ruined the picture, making my skin crawl any time he was near. Ed Peletier was the definition of a scumbag, worse than Merle if I could bring myself to admit such a thing. At least Merle didn't hit any of the women in camp, and I couldn't see him being a man to…look at his daughter the way Ed did. I just couldn't. It was common knowledge through must of camp that Ed beat his wife, the talk about her bruises was always a hot topic of conversation.

The Morales family was a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else. The rarest thing in the world these days was finding a completely intact family, but they had somehow managed to do just that. They had two kids, both younger than Carl and Sophia, named Eliza and Louis. They kept to themselves, though. Dale, the sweet old man who owned the RV, was like a grandfather to everyone, always there to offer a piece of advice or throw some old proverb at you for no real apparent reason. It seemed as if he had a thumb in everyone's pie, though, and I had a feeling the sweet old man was sort of a gossip whore. Dad used to say call people like him Chatty Cathy's.

I finally pinpointed who it had been that called my name, seeing Jacqui approaching with a few towels over her shoulder and a bottle of soap in hand. She waved them at me and I almost let out a sigh of relief when I realized I wasn't about to be asked to do another favor. Tossing one of the rough cloth towels at me to catch, she beckoned to me as she started to walk past.

"It's bath day. You coming now, or waiting another week to wallow in your filth?"

Bath day. Right. Wednesdays were bath days for the women in the ragtag camp we'd organized here. Men bathed on Mondays, and whether the alliteration was supposed to be clever or not was unclear to me. All I knew was that it was supposed to help us remember, and yet here I was caught off guard.

"Well, despite how fond I was becoming of my filth, I guess it's about time to scrub off my protective layer." I sighed dramatically. "Just, let me get these to Dale, I guess-,"

"Oh, just leave 'em." Jacqui said nonchalantly, waving her hand in a dismissive manner. "If he really needs them, he'll come looking. It'd do him good to pull his head out of that engine block if only for a few seconds. Inhaling all that diesel can't be healthy for a man of his age."

"It's like you could read my mind." I smirked, throwing the towel over my shoulder and trailing after her.

Amy appeared by my side almost out of thin air, lobbing two bottles of body wash at me that I only barely had time to catch before they smashed against the ground. I juggled them for a moment before securing them in my arms, sending her a halfhearted glare as she threw her own arm over my shoulders.

"I can't wait to get this new layer of dirt off of me." She crowed, excited as she usually was when Wednesday came around. "I'll feel like a new woman!"

"Right." I snorted, slipping out of her embrace. It was too hot for such affections. "There isn't enough water in Georgia to scrub the ugly off of you."

The insult was thrown with teasing intent, despite its harshness, and Amy didn't bat an eyelash before she hurled back her own insult. At this point, our word battles were tradition between the two of us. The real insult would be if one of us didn't try and verbally abuse the other on a daily basis.

"Then, I'll just find a mask to cover it, like your mom did for you."

"You couldn't afford my looks." I snapped, as we began our trek towards the quarry, more women congregating around us.

"Honey, anyone could afford your looks."

"Yeah? And how many people could "afford" you at university?" I jeered with a smile, knowing I had won this round.

"Oh!" Amy gasped in false shock, taking a step towards me with arms wide open in a threatening pose. "You want to go, Kit?"

"Back off Amy." Andrea strolled up to her sister, a change of clean clothes thrown over her shoulder. "We both know she'd kick your ass."

"What?" Amy sounded genuinely taken aback.

"Oh, come on." Andrea snorted, flashing me a look over her little sister's head. "You've never been a fighter. Remember Tommy Lewis?"

"Tommy Lewis was a foot taller than me, a dude, and a first grade bully!" Amy defended herself from whatever argument Andrea was referencing. "And, if you remember since you had to pick me up from detention that day, I knocked out one of his teeth!"

"A baby tooth." Andrea reminded. "One that, if I remember from your whining, he got twenty bucks for from the tooth fairy."

I admittedly drowned out the rest of their conversation as Carol and Sophia hesitantly joined us, and I drifted from the blonde sisters to the mother and daughter duo. Sophia smiled prettily at me as I approached, and Carol gave me a more subdued version of the gesture. Falling in step with them, I forced myself into a more amicable disposition. Amy had the kind of effect on me that made me act younger than my already young sixteen year old self.

"What'll it be, ladies?" I asked, holding up the two half empty bottles of body wash. "Cherry blossom or mango mandarin?"

"Cherry blossom." Sophia chirped immediately, and I passed her the pink hued bottle.

"Good." I sighed, feigning relief. "I'm a mango girl, myself."

Despite the fact that I hated babysitting, I quite enjoyed the kids when it was just one or two of them. One of two of them was fine – I had two arms to defend myself. It was only when they ganged up on me and treated me like their punching bag when I vowed that I'd pull my uterus out before having one of them. That wasn't to say I wasn't good with them, because I was, which was why I was always being asked to babysit. I think it was one of those vicious cycle things everyone talked about.

"I've never had a mango." Sophia informed me, one of her hands holding onto her mother's while the soap bottle occupied the other.

"Actually, I never have either." I admitted, smiling down at her. "I just like the way they smell. I've never been the kind of girl to taste exotic fruits. Mangoes, sugar apples, star fruits, guava, papaya. No, ma'am, I'll just stick with my peaches and apples."

Sophia giggled and the sound made my mouth twitch up involuntarily. By this point we had reached the quarry, hard packed dirt changing to loose sand that disappeared into unreal blue water. Small waves lapped at the bank enticingly as our small group came to a stop beside a fold away table that was permanently kept down there. It was used to hold out items, keeping them out of the sand for the most part. There were few things more unpleasant than the feeling of sanding chaffing in the wrong places. As a unit, we all bathed rather quickly. We knew that a few of the family men in the group took up guarding us while we were down here, some ways off the beaten path to give us our privacy, but there was still something unnerving to being naked out in the open. In a world where things wanted to eat your flesh, having so much of it exposed seemed foolish.

We scrubbed and we rinsed, scrubbed again and rinsed one more time. There was a small splash war that broke out between Amy and I, but it was quelled quickly when we exactly caught Sophia in the crossfire and ended up driving soapy water into her eyes. We dried off as best as we could with our meager towels and redressed on the beach, trying to stay on the packed sand as we hopped around on one leg to replace our pants in an effort to avoid the powdering sand sticking to out still damp skin. My hair soaked the back of my flannel as I redressed, turning the red material a few shades darker. Washing off in the lake wasn't like a shower at home, but it was better than wallowing in dirt and sweat for an unknown amount of time.

I snagged my boots from under the table and underwent the ritual of slipping them back on, balancing on one leg with a clean and dry foot in the air to put on a clean sock. When I stood solidly back on my feet, the sheath of my knife thumped against my thigh, reminding me that it was empty. I grabbed the blade from where it was driven into the sand underneath the table, in plain sight and yet somewhat harmless with the blade hidden away. I slipped it back into its home, letting out a breath at the peace I felt once it was back on my being. The setting sun had already disappeared behind the rocky walls of the canyon, giving the appearance that the ridgeline was on fire from the orange rays bursting out from behind it. The sun probably wouldn't be gone for another hour or so, but shadows washed the quarry in darkness. I chewed on my bottom lip, staring out across the water, hearing the others getting ready to depart.

"You coming back, Katie, or you just gonna sit there?" Andrea called, suddenly snagging my attention.

I thought about it for a moment before I shook my head. "If it's alright, I'll be up in a minute. I need a few moments for myself."

Andrea shot me a sympathetic smile. "You want me to tell your mother you'll be late to dinner?"

"Oh, crap." I moaned, remembering the fact that I was supposed to help Mom dish out dinner tonight. She was my mother. I loved her but…a fire burned in me when we spoke. "You're right. I'm coming-,"

"No, no. I'll help her, you take as long as you need down here. Just come back before dark, alright?" Andrea offered.

I shot my hazel green eyes up to meet her icy ones with gratefulness. If there was one person who understood what I went through with my mother, it was Andrea. The blonde woman and my life giver seemed always to be at odds, fighting one another or arguing over simple things like hanging laundry or the temperature of the beans we ate. So, the fact that she was willingly putting herself in Lori's path meant a lot to me.

"Thanks, Andrea." I said earnestly, smiling at her before turning back to look across the flat water.

As their footsteps faded, I became hyperaware of the sounds of the cricket symphony around me, singing a song of loneliness and loss. At least, that's what it sounded like to me. I hummed along with it, occasionally kicking up a handful of sand to add to the orchestra. I leaned back against the table, feeling it sink unsteadily a few inches into the sand before stabilizing once again. I heaved a sigh, feeling exhausted but not ready to head back up to camp and fall asleep in an empty tent. I never slept right when Glenn was gone, and I had a feeling that tonight wouldn't be any different. I could go and bunk with Mom and Carl tonight, but these days I found it hard to be in Mom's company without feeling anger. It had been bad before the outbreak, but after Dad died…

I hurried through the house, backpack heavy on my back and stumbling as my untied shoe laces tripped me up. My mouth still tasted of toothpaste from a hasty brushing, and my long hair was messily braided to the side. All in all, I looked like crap and I could tell today was going to be a very bad day indeed. Mondays. God damn Mondays.

"Mom!" I hollered, "Where's your purse? I need twenty dollars for the FFA party!"

"I told you it was in the dining room!"

I rolled my eyes, arms rising to my sides before I harshly slapped them back down against my thighs. "Yeah, you told me that, but it wasn't in there!"

"Then try my room! But hurry, Kit, the bus will be here soon!"

"I know the bus will be here soon." I muttered under my breath as I hurried out of the dining room and down the hallway towards my parent's bedroom. "I get up every morning at the crack ass of dawn just o catch the damn thing."

Except that morning in particular, I had slept through three of my alarms and woken up with barely enough time to throw on the clothes I'd worn yesterday (thank God today was a the beginning of a new week meaning nobody would know my literal dirty little secret) and take care of my other morning essentials. Now, I had less than three minutes to find Mom's purse which she never could keep track of.

I pushed through the half closed door and flipped the light switch on, wincing at the suddenly brightness. The bed was empty, Mom in the kitchen probably burning the eggs I'd have to force myself to swallow, and Dad having left before even I woke up to make it to the station. I scanned the room before letting out a noise of delight as I spotted the leather brown bag sitting on the ottoman in the corner. I raced over to it and yanked it open, snagging the wallet from its confines.

Popping the snap, I quickly pulled out a twenty and a five dollar bill and stuck them in my pockets, tossing the wallet back into its home. As I spun to head towards the kitchen, I heard the disheartening sound of the messenger like bag fall to the ground and spill out its contents. I moaned in aggravation, half tempted to just leave it but knowing I'd just catch flak for it later, I reluctantly turned back and kneeled down.

I wasn't careful or considerate as I stuffed receipts, makeup bags, a few magazines, some hairspray cans and a small notepad back into the bag. However, as my fingers closed around a thick envelope that had been torn open, I hesitated with faint interest at the name on the front. Frowning, I brought it closer to my face.

Burrstone & Associates, Family Law and Divorce

My mouth parted in confusion and panic at the company's name, and without thinking of the consequences, I pulled the contents out of the already opened top. My fingers shook slightly as I unfolded the creased cardstock, eyes roaming the official cream colored page in horror as my fears were confirmed. One of my hands flew over my mouth in shock, heart beating heavy in my chest. My stomach churned unpleasantly with nausea. It was a damn good thing I hadn't eaten yet, because my breakfast would have been splattered all over the carpet.

"Kit! The bus is here!"

The sound of Mom's voice made me jump, the papers falling from my grasp. I froze for only a second before I started hastily sticking the proof of my parents' anger and dysfunctionality back into its rightful place and rising from my crouch.

"Katherine!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted, my voice sounding cold.

I took a deep breath to compose myself before heading towards the kitchen where Mom was hollering. The entire way there, I could only think about those divorce papers I'd seen, wondering if Dad knew.

I never found out if he did or not, but weeks passed and although the two of them fought like cats and dogs, those papers were never signed. I would know. I made it my business to sneak into Mom's underwear drawer every few weeks and check. Yes, they remained unsigned, but they remained all the same. I recognized that Mom might be sticking it out for now, but she held a loaded gun in her arsenal. And it infuriated me. I couldn't fathom why she would want to divorce my father. Dad was a great man, a great husband, a great father, a great cop, a great everything. So, why in the hell was he not good enough for her? Was I biased? I don't know.

"Don't you know you ain't supposed to be out here after dark?" The deep southern draw was unmistakable, but unexpected all the same.

I jumped slightly, whipping my head around and meeting Daryl's gaze as he slowly made his way towards the bank I was at, looking uncomfortable in my presence. I didn't feel offended, Daryl looked like he was uncomfortable in most situations. Nonetheless, I smiled unsurely at him. He must have been making his way back to camp from the woods at the opposite end of the lake when he saw me. I was just glad he had the keen eyes of a hunter, because the last thing I wanted was to have had him mistake me for a Walker and put a crossbow bolt through my temple. That would have just been unfortunate.

"It isn't dark yet." I pointed out, nodding up at the orange tinted sky.

"I guess it ain't." Daryl nodded, stopping a few feet away from me with eyes glued to his feet.

I pursed my lips as silence between us. I might be relatively nice to everyone in camp, but I wasn't necessarily good with the small talk. Plus, Daryl and I never really conversed unless I was bringing him laundry or dinner. Sometimes, we'd pass each other while walking through camp, and I'd do the awkward pursed smile and head nod bit. That was pretty much the extent of our interactions.

"Did you hear that, when Glenn gets back, there's gonna be a big group run." I tried to spike up a conversation, not sure how to interact with the reclusive man and yet knowing that walking away at this point without another word would just be plain rude.

Immediately, I wanted to smack myself. Of course he'd heard about the group run. It's all the camp had been able to talk about all week, and it was the one reason Glenn had barred me from joining them. I sighed internally, shaking my head. I really needed to work on talking with people like a normal human being.

"Yeah. Merle's going." Daryl grunted.

"Really?" I hadn't meant to sound so surprised, but it certainly came out that way. I felt my face go hot at my rudeness, but at the look he shot me I figured I might as well continue. "With a group?"

He nodded in understanding to my question. It wasn't a secret that Merle wasn't exactly a team player, and since we'd never sent a group out before, this was uncharted territory. Bringing more than one person introduced a whole new level of issues that we weren't experienced in, and I was suspicious whether or not the extra hands would be worth the added risk. Especially Merle's big, meaty, tattle-tale strangler hands.

"Yeah.

"Well…" I struggled with something to say. "That's good, right? He's volunteering…assimilating…all that crap."

Daryl gave a noncommittal shrug, looking completely uninterested in the conversation. I continued the one sided dialogue and decided to jump off of the Merle bashing tangent before I inadvertently pissed the younger brother off.

"I wanted to go." I pressed. "But Glenn doesn't think it's safe, bringing a group along. For the longest time, it's just been the two of us, you know? He's worried that the extra people could distract us, and by us I know he secretly means me."

Daryl's eyes cut over to look at me every so often, and it was the only indicator I got that told me he was still listening.

"But," I inhaled slowly. "If only Glenn goes, then it's just going to be him up there with a bunch of people who don't know their asses from holes in the ground."

I earned myself a snort on that one, and it prompted my lips to twitch with a faint feeling of success. It wasn't the laugh I'd been aiming for, but hey, I'd take a snort…in a different context, that could have meant something very different.

"I just think I know my way around the hellhole pretty well, and that he needs all the help he can get. But, Shane's put his foot down and Mom is…well, Mom."

"You like going out there?" The way he asked made it sound more like a statement than a question, but I answered anyway.

"Yeah," I said haltingly. "I guess I do, in a way."

"Why?"

I was fairly surprised we were still conversing. Daryl barely muttered a few words at camp, let along enough to have a civil conversation with me. I wished I had brought a timer down with me. I could have probably set a record for longest discussion with a Dixon brother. This was definitely going onto the Camp Bulletin Board when I finally got around to building it.

"I don't want to forget they're dangerous." I explained, digging the tow of my boot into the sand. "I feel like the longer I stay here, the safer I feel, and that's supposed to be a good thing, but feeling safe anywhere these days is stupid. Stupid gets you killed."

Daryl nodded a few times in contemplation, seeming to chew on my words.

"You wanna know the way I see it?"

I gave him a nod of my own.

"The way I see it, you've got it all figured out. More than I can say about half the dumbasses here." He paused for a second as I stood there in shocked silence at his compliment. "You sure you ain't adopted?"

I let out a laugh at that one, giving a one shouldered shrug. He looked up over the canyon walls and jerked his head behind him.

"S'go. Sun's setting, don't want to be mistaken for Walkers."

With that, the old antisocial Daryl was back and I let out a breath of relief. I could work with antisocial Daryl. Spinning around, his mask fell back into place and he only looked over his shoulder once to make sure I was following. The intimidating crossbow was slung over his back like a security blanket. I didn't think I'd ever seen him without it, come to think of it. With a sigh, I followed. No sooner than we had reached camp, myself a trailing a few feet behind Daryl, Lori descended on us with a worried look. She gave Daryl a strained smile, which he ignored as he headed back over to his and Merle's tent, and took me gently by the arm. My first instinct was to yank the limb away, but I knew it would only lead to a fight and I was too tired to argue with my mother.

"Why didn't you come up with everyone else?" She whispered sternly, eyes reprimanding.

"Mom, please." I sighed in annoyance, my hand coming over her own to pry her fingers off of my forearm. "I just wanted some time alone."

"You shouldn't be wandering around by yourself-,"

"First of all, I'm sixteen, not six, Mom." I interrupted. "Second, I run the quarry every morning by myself, and thirdly, I wasn't alone. As you saw, Daryl showed up before I could get any real self meditation going on."

"The only reason I let you run in the mornings is because I know it helps you keep your moods under control." She informed me in a voice that made it clear she wouldn't be afraid to change that. "And, I think you more than know I'm not comfortable with you hanging around the Dixon brothers."

I let out a huff at her reminder of my chemical imbalance. I suffered from bipolar depression before the infection, but after pills and therapy lessons, I had more or less gotten the mood swing under control. Then, shit hit the fan and I ran out of my pills long before we reached the quarry. So, I was fighting a mental battle with myself at half force, relying on the therapeutic running and my heart to hearts with Glenn to help me bridge the dark cloud in my life that came around all too often. And, all too often, Mom liked to use it as an excuse to my behavior.

I'm snappy with her? Must be the depression. I failed a math test? Must be the depression. I'm reclusive, rebellious, untamable, etc…Must be the depression.

"Let me?" I snapped.

"Kit-," She started, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Where do you get off judging the Dixons?" I went on, crossing my arms. "Sure, Merle's a hothead and unpredictable, but Daryl isn't bad. Besides, I never hear you complaining while you're eating their squirrels."

Lori raised her eyebrows at me in shock, chin tucking into her neck as she shot me a look that said I'd better watch myself. I heaved a sigh and shook my head, grabbing two bowls from the small side table she had sitting out.

"Since you're too busy playing Judge Judy," I said snidely, "I'll take them their dinner. You know, the food they hunted and killed so you could go to bed with a full stomach."

"Katherine Jameson Grimes, don't you dare walk away from me!" She hissed, mindful to keep her voice down as to not draw attention to our little domestic dispute.

I did just that, rolling my eyes and marching away. Most people would be cautious to approach the brothers set up, but I was only a little wary. I was probably one of the only people in camp the brothers didn't automatically shoot baleful glares at. I thought it had something to do with my charming personality. I was God's little ray of sarcastic sunshine. However, although I was confident, I wasn't stupid. I slowed my approach the closer I got, unsure of what kind of welcome I'd received. I was tolerated…most of the time. Sort of like a feral cat that you occasionally put food out for when you were feeling generous, but the second the cat shit on your front porch it got a boot up the ass. I was said feral cat, and Merle was said boot up the ass.

The man of the hour was sat outside his tent in a camping chair as he observed the rest of the camp with a mixture of disdain and dismissal, a rifle slung over his lap. He saw me coming and raised the fingers on one of his hands in greeting. I acknowledged it with a chin jerk. So far, so good.

"Hey there, sweetheart!" He said in a jubilant voice that I only usually heard when he wanted to start trouble, but it seemed to be commonplace when directed to me. "Is that dinner I smell? Because if I smell it, it means somebody's gone and ruined it."

I decided it was safe to approach, hopefully assuming he wasn't high. I gave a small shrug as I came to a stop in front of him, peering into the plastic bowls and seeing what lay inside for the first time. Oh, he was going to have something smart to say about this.

"It's supposed to be dinner." I grimaced, looking down at the slightly burnt meat that was tinged with charcoal on the edges. "Mom overcooked it. Again."

"Ah." Merle grimaced as well as I handed it to him. "Son of a bitch. She did, didn't she."

"Sorry." I apologized.

Merle waved my apology away and set his bowl aside, pointing a large finger at me. I raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"I heard you're not coming on that run."

I blinked in surprise. Damn, Daryl moved quick. I never took him to be a gossip whore, too. Dale and Daryl, Chatty Cathy's. That was something I needed to make a mental note about…maybe add it to that Bulletin Board.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm grounded, so to speak."

"Well, I'm offering you a little gift from ol' Merle, since you can't go yourself."

"A gift." I repeated in confusion. "What for?"

"A little insurance from you that Paula Dean over there doesn't burn my squirrel anymore." Merle grumbled. "I don't waste hours on end shooting those little bastards down just for them to be turned into chunks of coal."

"I'll do my best." My lips twitched in amusement. "What's the gift?"

"I might know where to score you those pills you've been needing."

That caught me off guard well and good, and I blinked at him a few seconds without breathing. Well, shit, looks like there was another Cathy in camp that needed to mind their own business as well.

"How…How do you know-,"

"I know everything, doll." He cut me off. "Ain't nothing a secret in this camp."

"Fucking gossip whores." I hissed indignantly, earning a laugh from Merle.

"That's the deal." He said when he finished his chortling. "A good ol' bottle of

"Sounds fair." I shrugged, hands shoving into the pockets of my jacket.

"Good, kid. Now, get outta here so I can enjoy my," He eyed his bowl distastefully, "dinner in peace."

Pulling my hand out of my pocket, I flashed him and Daryl as peace sign as I backed away, the latter emerging from the tent just as I exited. Spinning around, I made my way back towards the campfire at a slow walk that quickly turned into a jog as I saw a familiar car parked a ways off from the RV and an Asian walking out of the Winnebago. A smile pulled at my lips and I dodged around the congregation at the fire, him catching sight of me and meeting me halfway.

"Hey." I greeted happily, throwing an arm around him in a soft hug before pulling back and running a scrutinizing eye over him. "You alright? How did the run go?"

"I'm glad to see that you still care." Glenn teased good-naturedly, brown eyes twinkling with playfulness and exhaustion. "I thought you would have forgotten all about me and found another best friend."

I snorted, brushing my fingers over a scrape on his left arm that was minor.

"Please, who else here would I make my best friend? Besides, you were gone a few hours, not days."

"You see, when you walked over here, I was feeling all appreciated for my sacrifice, but now I'm not feeling that so much." He complained, drawing his arm away and rubbing a hand over the scratch.

"That's just your hunger talking." I laughed. "If I had a Snickers bar, I'd give it to you."

"If you had a Snickers bar, I'd kill you for it." Glenn jested back, and I had a feeling he was only half joking.

"Well, no Snickers bar." I sighed regretfully. "But my Mom made Roadkill Rocks, if you want to try and choke those down."

Glenn let out a very audible whine, but nevertheless followed me over to the fire where everyone else had pretty much settled in to eat their dinner. We snagged the last two bowls and plopped down on our spots on our logs, him on the left and me on the right. We had switched it up one time, but ended up both complaining that our butts had left perfect indentations in the wood that was specific to our individual posteriors. It just wasn't comfortable unless my ass was in my ass-spot.

The campfire was warmed not just by the flames, but by the gentle hum of conversation reverberating in the air as people mingled and talked. I swallowed my squirrel without really chewing, not wanting to get the strong carbon flavor of the coal stuck in my mouth. Toothpaste was something that was considered a luxury item, and I'd been greedily hoarding the tube I'd packed when we first evacuated home. It only had about a third remaining, but since I had sadly decided that I only needed to brush my teeth every three days, I had a little while left in the tube.

"Are you still barred from the trip?" Glenn asked me as we ate.

"Yeah." I sighed in annoyance. "Mom refuses to listen to what I have to say, and Shane doesn't want to fight her on it. Why do you care? You don't want me going either."

"Sh." Glenn hushed me, spooning waving like a wand. "I merely suggested that you not come. How was I supposed to know they would forbid you?"

Speak of the elephant in the room, and it will stand on its hind legs and trumpet out the national anthem from its trunk. Shane walked into the middle of our powwow circle, pulling his baseball cap onto his head like he always did when he was getting ready to talk serious.

"As you all know," The sheriff announced, calling everyone's attention to him. "We got a group heading out tomorrow. Now, this is the first time we've sent out more than two people at a time. Usually, it's Kit and Glenn, and while they are more than capable at handling their business, I want to bring back a larger haul this time and that calls for more people. It's a completely volunteer basis. We've got Glenn, Merle and Morales confirmed on the rosters so far. Anyone else?"

I almost raised my hand purely out of spite, but Shane caught my eye first and gave me a look that was half tired amusement and half warning. So, I looked down and shook my head in silent displeasure instead. A silence fell over the campfire as people looked around to see who would step up. T-Dog raised his hand after a moment of debate.

"I'll go." He offered.

"Me too." Jacqui said, raising her hand as well.

"Me three." Andrea added her hand to the rest.

….

"This is a bad idea, isn't it?"

I was surprised that Glenn managed to keep his obvious displeasure about the group exploit quiet until we were alone in our tent. I hadn't missed the look of excitement in his eyes when nobody had stepped forward right away to volunteer. I looked up at him from my sleeping bag and quickly averted my eyes to busy myself with untying my boots.

"I already told you it was. Multiple times. In two languages." I said nonchalantly, kicking the beige footwear over to the corner of the tent before popping the button on my jeans so I could pull on a pair of plaid pajama pants. Glenn turned around swiftly so that I was presented with his back, however it did not deter his rant in the slightest.

"Atlanta is a shitstorm." He snapped on as if I hadn't spoken, arms crossed and probably glaring holes into the wall of the nylon structure. "And there are sometimes when we barely made it out-,"

"Sh!" I hissed, mindful that we weren't actually in a room rather than a box made of fabric. "Keep your voice down!"

The last thing I needed was Mom or Shane overhearing and pulling me from runs completely.

"How am I supposed to smuggle a group in? And why?" He continued, albeit in a softer voice. "I think we've been doing pretty good on our own, the two of us. We always bring back enough supplies."

"You're preaching to the choir, brother." I snorted. "You talked to Shane about this?"

"Yeah." Glenn rolled his eyes. "Same bullshit, different day. Like, I get he's practically your uncle and all, but if you ask me he's kind of a…"

I rolled my eyes and mouthed a silent, Oh my God, to the sky. Glenn had this tendency to revert into a whiny five year old when things didn't go his way. I loved him, but I think all too often he forgets the he's the older one.

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"How did you…?" I asked in confusion, staring at his back.

"I know you well enough to sense when you're being a smart ass." He retorted.

I sighed and tied the drawstring on my pants before falling backwards onto my sleeping bag. Glenn turned around at the rustle of fabric and dropped down to take a reluctant seat on his own next to mine.

"I'm not being a smart ass!" I insisted, rolling my head to look at him. "All I want to say is that…Shane maybe hotheaded and full of himself sometimes, but I trust him with my life. I don't agree with the group thing, and I'm still pissed I'm not included, but he never does things just because he feels like it. There's always a reason. So, whatever it may be, I'm sure sending a group tomorrow is worth it."

He eyed me, both unbelieving and wary. I didn't blame him.