"…Santa came to say," Judith was following the words with her finger, "Rudo—"

"Rudolph." Carol chimed in, and Judith looked up at her.

"So those letters make an 'f' sound?" They had been reading the same book for days now, and Judith could never get past the reindeer's name. Rick had been almost as adamant about Judith learning to read as he was about teaching her to shoot, so it was no surprise that he decided she should learn these around the same age. It was pretty hard to gauge time anymore, but they were sure Judith had to be around six.

"Yes, sweetie," Carol smiled sweetly, "the 'p' and 'h' make a –"

"FFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK!" Daryl had fallen, there was a crash, and Carol leaned out of the tiny office to see him in a pile of wreaths.

"You alright?" she asked, trying to hold back her laughter as he helplessly pawed at the festive décor around his neck.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." He sighed and kicked his legs, trying to right himself.

They had found this year-round Christmas store on one of their runs, and it had proven to be one of the best locations for temporary shelter. The store was nearly a warehouse, so it took them several days to sweep the entire location prior to sectioning off their own block of the store near the fake Christmas trees. They had used the trees to secure a perimeter around their sleeping quarters and the tree skirts and fake snow proved to be quite the ideal substitute for sleeping bags.

"It's funny," Carol said, "with the trees and the ornaments surrounding us, I almost feel like we are the most festive survivors out there."

Glenn laughed from behind Daryl, "Well Rick's got the beard…He can be Santa."

The others looked to Rick, who smiled and put his hands up, "Caught me."

The group laughed, and Judith looked to Carol, cocking her head, "I still don't understand."

"Oh yes! I'm so sorry! Your book," Carol rubbed her eyes hoping to readjust to the low light in the office, "where were we?"

"No, not about that," Judith shut the book and pointed to the cover, "what is Christmas?"

Father Gabriel's lips faltered a little bit, "It's the celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus," he looked a bit downtrodden, "don't you remember me mentioning him a few times, sweetie?"

"Pfft," Judith scoffed, a bad habit she had picked up from Daryl, "I remember Jesus, but who is this guy?" she held up the book and let one of her small fingers linger over the red face of St. Nick on the cover.

"He's a jolly fat guy," Daryl stood up tall and put his hands on his stomach, "and he sneaks into your house to eat your cookies and leave you toys." He laughed and continued to sort out the mess he had made earlier.

"Don't people get mad at him?" Judith got up and walked out of the office, and made her way over to her father, "Why hasn't he ever visited us?"

"Sweetheart," Carol followed behind her and Rick eyed Carol suspiciously,

"Santa Claus isn't real."