I don't like putting author notes in stories, but this one called for one. I am very sorry for the problems that arose when I first published this. It looked fine to me and I wasn't aware that it had screwed up somewhere. I am very sorry for the trouble. I hope you can enjoy my story despite it.

Lady Lychee

Isolation was terrifying. The blinding whiteness even hid the hand that Clementine held in front of her face. She kept quiet as the wind howled around her, fearing that she would call the attention of any walkers nearby. Where could Christa have gone? She wrapped an arm around herself, her other extended as it held her pistol, q. There was a dark object in the near distance. As she squinted her eyes to try to peer through the snow, her thoughts raced. Was it a horde of walkers? Was it shelter? She trudged toward it as quickly as she could, hoping for the latter. She stumbled into the snow and grunted as she began to roll down an unseen hill.

Clementine shielded her head and gripped her pistol as tightly as she could, trying to protect both. She cried out as she bounced against various unseen rocks, stumps, and roots. She quickly landed at the bottom with a groan, her breath shaking. She slowly sat up and moved as much of her body as she could. Was anything broken? No, but her shoulder burned as she tried to move it. She groaned in pain before she realized that she had dropped her pistol. Was it anywhere near her? She patted around the snow, her hands numb against the icy shards. Her foot knocked against something small and solid, and she smiled in relief. She picked it up and stood slowly.

She looked up and saw a light from the large object. It was a cabin, she realized. She stumbled toward it, her left shoulder protesting each step. As she stepped onto the porch, she noticed that there were footprints in the snow in front of the door. She drew her pistol and ignored her shoulder.

The door was shut. Clementine blinked in surprise as she heard muffled voices behind the door, though she couldn't make out what they were saying. She reconsidered the pistol and slipped it into her back pocket before knocking on the door and schooled her expression into sadness. Although no one had taught her this trick- even though it was a dirty one-, she knew that adults would always help a sad, lost, little girl. She looked up with the best lost-puppy expression she could muster when the door opened.

The faces that looked back weren't adults.

"Hands up or he'll shoot." Came a girl's voice. Clementine immediately raised her hands, her expression one of confusion. A teenage girl wearing a yellow jacket stood in front of her, her arms crossed while a teenage boy wearing a purple jacket aimed a revolver at her.

"Oh, it's just another kid." The girl frowned, "Do you have any guns on you?"

Clementine nodded. The girl looked to someone out of Clementine's sight."Gill, go grab the kid's gun."

A young, African-American boy, who seemed to be Clementine's age, ran out from behind the duo. He smiled apologetically at Clementine.

"Cool hat."

Clementine decided not to respond.

"Come on. Just let us stay here until the storm blows over. Then we'll leave you and your boyfriend alone!" A male voice pleaded. He sounded oddly familiar to Clementine, though she couldn't place the voice.

"Boyfriend?!" The girl raised the pistol and pointed it to the man. "This guy isn't my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, brother, random guy you met, I don't care. Just please let us stay!"

"Hey," Clementine took a slow step toward the duo, noting the teenage boy's shaking hand, his blue eyes fearful behind his cracked glasses, "Just calm down. There's a blizzard going on outside. You really don't want to send us back outside, do you? Just let us all stay until the storm clears up. We'll leave as soon as it does. Besides, we can split whatever supplies we have. It'll be fine." The girl in the yellow jacket looked as if she were about to respond, but was interrupted by the wailing of a baby.

"AJ, shh!" A different girl's voice cooed.

"You have a baby with you?" The teenage boy, his words lengthened by his accent, looked toward the source of the crying.

"Yeah? See, you can't send us all out with a baby. It'd die." Clementine began to slowly lower her hands. "You don't want to kill a baby, do you?"

"C'mon, Becca. Let's just let 'em all stay. We found this place anyway. They have a baby!" Gill tugged on the girl's sleeve.

Becca sighed, "Fine. But if anything happens, you're all outside." She lowered Clementine's pistol and offered it back to her. There was a collective sigh of relief.

Clementine took her pistol with a smile, "Thanks." Becca responded with a sigh and walked back to a rocking chair near a lit fireplace.

The teenage boy didn't lower his pistol, however, until Becca looked up. "Arvo, it's okay. They can stay." She spoke slowly and gestured down. He lowered his pistol and nervously ran a hand through his short brown hair, nodding in an apology to the large group and slipped his pistol back into his waistband.

"Sorry."