Clementine held a look of great relief. She looked down at her bite and clamped her right hand around her wrist, then looked up to the faces of the rest of the group.

"I didn't think it was." Pete spoke in response to Carlos. "Damn thing's way too long."

The woman – Clementine really needed to learn her name – scrunched her eyebrows up in the way that Luke had much earlier. Disbelief. She shook her head, "There's no way that's a dog bite – I can't even remember the last time I saw a dog! How would one even survive?"

"There's bound to be survivors out there who keep their dogs with them." Luke pointed, arms crossed. He looked back to Clementine and asked, "You said it had a collar, didn't you?"

She nodded, avoiding the suspicious gaze of the woman. "It said his name was 'Sam'." Clementine cringed internally when she said the dog's name. She wished she could go back to when she was calling him "the dog" – it was much less humanizing, and as selfish as it was, it left a smaller mark on her conscience. A spasm of pain ran through her arm, flaring up and increasing the pain she'd been feeling before.

"You okay, Clementine?" asked Luke, turning his head towards her.

Clementine didn't answer immediately. She took in a shallow breath, clenching her teeth, before answering. "I'll be fine."

"Look," the woman said after a moment. "How can we be sure it's not just a torn lurker bite?"

Carlos looked as if he were about to answer. Instead, Pete spoke, this time to Clementine, who was still hugging her arm to her chest. "She'd start showin' symptoms by now, Rebecca. The girl ain't even feverish… You know how fast a lurker bite works." Suddenly, he said, "Clementine, come here for a minute."

Clementine looked up. She trusted Pete, and she trusted Luke, but she had no idea what he had in mind, and quite frankly, she didn't want to be around Rebecca, the woman who refused to believe her. Slowly, she made her way over to Pete, and stopped in front of him. She gazed at him warily.

Pete looked over to the woman, and then back at Clementine. He pointed his finger at something on the side of Clementine's neck, and said, "Rebecca, those didn't come from a human or a lurker." He sighed, then looked down at her. "I saw 'em when we were bringin' her back here."

Rebecca's gaze shifted to Clementine for only a moment, and then back to Pete. "You'd damn well better be right about this."

Clementine reached up to where he had pointed, and only then was it that she could feel inflamed scratches on the side of her neck. She hadn't even known they were there, or that Sam had gotten close enough to the area to scratch her.

The one thing Clementine never thought she'd think was, Thank God for getting scratched.

She listened for a moment to the back-and-forth between the group. They all seemed to trust Carlos, though at the same time, the woman named Rebecca, and the broad man – whom she quickly learned was named Alvin – seemed uneasy.

Nick hadn't spoken yet, unlike the rest of the group, who had either expressed their disbelief or some other emotion. He stood behind the others, staring at the ground as if it had just murdered his entire family. He turned on his heel a moment later, and abruptly made his way away from everyone else, and away from Clementine.

"Nick… don't be like that, man…" Luke muttered, loud enough only for those surrounding him to hear. He followed behind Nick, with one last glance at Clementine. He hung his head, looking both saddened and annoyed at the same time.

"It's alright." Pete said, it seemed, to no one in particular. "Boy's got his mom's temper." He looked down at the rifle in he held at his side, then at Clementine. She quickly realized he was talking to her. "But you're lucky my nephew can't shoot for shit."

"Bring her in," said Carlos in a reluctant tone, walking back towards the patio steps. "I'll see what I can do for her arm."

Clementine didn't mistake the offer of medical care for kindness. Even if Carlos had vouched for her and told them what her bite really was, she knew that he wasn't anywhere near happy to do it. Of course they don't trust me, she thought, feeling slow, they thought I was working for someone.

Part of her wondered who this Carver was, and that same part of her wondered why they were so afraid. The other half of her wanted to leave. This person wasn't – or rather shouldn't – be her concern at all, and she wanted no part in whatever this group had done, or had had done to them.

Clementine found herself in the kitchen a few minutes later, sitting on a stool up against the kitchen island. Carlos stood, only a few feet away from her, rooting through a cardboard box that seemed to have been packed to the brim of any type of medical supplies one might need in an emergency.

She didn't know what time of the day it was exactly, but it was quickly beginning to darken outside. Raindrops echoed as they bounced on the roof and beat against the windows. Clementine could only be thankful for the fact that she wasn't out there in the rain, as she'd been the night before.

Much to her chagrin, Nick stood in the corner of the kitchen. His eyes continuously darted from Clementine to his rifle, or at Carlos; his thumbnail stayed glued to his mouth as he gazed at all of them from underneath the bill of his cap.

The kitchen door swung open, and in came Luke, who held a full-sized lighter in his hand. He glanced at Clementine, then at Nick, who returned it with a blank stare. He approached the table, where several thick candles sat on their plates next Nick's rifle and a red and black lantern.

Within a minute, Luke lit several of the candles, producing extra light in the rapidly darkening room.

"Kid, you should prob'ly know that you got blood all over your face." Clementine looked up from her arm to Luke, who held a small smirk. He grabbed a washcloth from the counter, and set it on the island. "Just thought you should know."

Clementine had forgotten about the blood she felt splatter her face much earlier. A small amount of embarrassment washed over her at having to have this pointed out. On the other hand, she supposed, there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Thanks." She quickly tried to wipe the dried blood from her face with the washcloth, though it was difficult to tell whether or not it had gotten the job done. "Did I get it?"

Luke placed his own finger at the top of his left cheekbone, below his eye. "You got a little here – yeah, there you go."

Carlos pulled several metal objects from his box, and then two smaller, white and blue boxes. He laid out what looked like an odd pair of scissors, a pair of tweezers, and some sort of hooked needle out on a small towel before looking up.

"This isn't going to be pleasant."

Clementine sighed, eyeing the supplies he'd laid out. She knew what was coming next, and she didn't need to be told. Unable to stop herself, she pulled a face.

Luke held up the lighter, nodding to another set of candles on the counter next to the island. "Do you need the light?"

"That would be helpful, yes." Carlos responded, not looking up from one of the smaller boxes that he had pulled out.
A moment later, the three candles on the counter were flickering a golden orange, giving off enough light to see.

"Where's Sarah?"

It was Luke who broke the sudden silence between the four people in the room. Carlos looked up, lifting an eyebrow at the question. Clementine could put the name with the curious face of the teen girl who had stuck her head outside earlier. She had no doubt that this was Carlos' daughter, and he obviously hadn't wanted her involved in these things.

"She's upstairs. She has her book and Rebecca went up there with her." Carlos pulled a pair of latex gloves from his box, and began to put them on. "She doesn't need to see this."

Nick's erratic behavior may have seemed normal to his group and to Luke and Pete, but Clementine simply stared when he left suddenly left the kitchen, muttering that he didn't need to see this either.

Clementine turned her attention to Carlos, who was currently dampening another washcloth with a liquid she couldn't make out. Just as he had earlier, he held out his hand for her arm.

"What is that?" she asked promptly, sounding more nervous than she intended.

"Hydrogen Peroxide." Carlos informed her simply. "The bite needs to be cleaned before I can stitch it up."

Clementine responded with, "Right," allowing him to take her arm. She could smell the harsh cleaner, and no matter how many times she told herself it was a necessary process, she couldn't help but wish he could just skip the cleaning and get everything done sooner.

"This may hurt a little."

Dread filled the pit of her stomach.


"Okay, that's done."

Clementine knew only a few minutes had passed since Carlos had begun cleaning the wound, but it felt like an eternity. The smell of the peroxide made her eyes water and every part of her bite stung. She felt as if a million fire ants were viciously attacking the inside of it. Tiny, involuntary tears spilled down her cheeks.

By now, the sight of it was making her feel sick to her stomach. Luke was pacing back and forth, occasionally bouncing on the edge of his feet. He shot her a look of pity. She briefly wondered if he was experiencing sympathy pains, or simply felt bad for having to watch her.

Carlos spoke up as he began to ready his supplies for Clementine's stitches. He sorted through the tools he had pulled out, each of them belonging in a suture pack, and then held up a small tube.
"I'm going to warn you," he began in a cautious tone. "It is meant to numb the skin and the tissue so you feel as little pain as possible during this procedure, but if it's out of date, it's probably not going to work. So, as I said earlier, this may not be pleasant."

Luke sat down on the stool next to Clementine, who was beginning to take this in. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest.

"It's okay if you're scared, you know." Luke told her. "You ever gotten stitches before?"

Clementine shook her head. "No. But my friend showed me how they work." Even before Christa had shown her how to stitch, Clementine had known somewhat how they worked. She'd sewn things together when she was younger, and from what she understood, they had similarities. "She cut her leg a few months ago and stitched it up with some wire and a sewing needle."

"Eugh. That… Clementine, your friend has guts, I'll tell y'that."

Clementine smiled sadly, thoughts drifting again.

"Are you ready?" She looked up at Carlos, whose gaze was split between her and Luke. He held the anesthetic tube in his hand.

She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for the possibility that the anesthetic might not work. Slowly, Clementine answered him with a nod.

It took eight stitches to hold both sides of the wound together. Carlos was half right about the anesthetic cream – it numbed some of the area, though it left other parts exposed and prickling with pain. But in the end, there was no more bleeding and the skin was held together tightly and neatly. His odd, hook-shaped needle had worked after all.

Clementine had moved to the kitchen table, running her finger lightly over the bandage that was placed over the stitches. It wrapped fully around her arm three times, and the wiry sutures that stuck out against her skin.
Raindrops still beat on the roof and windows forcefully. It was dark outside now, leaving the candles that were scattered across the kitchen as the only source of light.

"You'll need to watch that for any sign of infection." said Carlos from the counter. He placed the suture kit back into the box. Clementine looked up. "If you see any pus or redness around the area, then that could be a sign. Don't touch it."

She nodded in response, looking up from her arm. "I won't."

Luke left the two of them in silence, saying that he would be back in a moment. The kitchen door swung shut with a soft squeak behind him.

After only a few seconds, Carlos spoke again. "Where did you come from?"

"What do you mean?" Clementine asked, looking up from her bandage. Hadn't they already gone over this? She told Pete and Luke what had happened.

"I mean exactly what I just said." was the answer she received in response. Carlos turned his back to her, leaning over the kitchen sink. He repeated the question. "Where did you come from?"

Clementine turned to the side of the chair. "My friend and I were in the woods. I don't know how far away it is from here." She said nothing about the river, and nothing about how she'd blindly and deliriously wandered through a walker infested forest. "… Why do you want to know?"

Carlos turned to face her, drying his hands on the side of his shirt. Even through the darkness in the room, Clementine knew a scowl when she saw one.
"I don't know who you are," he began, "And I don't know where you came from. But if you're with Carver, then you need to say it now."

Carver – again with Carver. Whoever this person was, he had a great deal of influence over these people. Clementine felt both annoyance and slight panic raise up inside of her. Carlos could stitch up a dog bite for her, but he couldn't believe that she didn't know this person?

"I don't know who that is." Clementine answered truthfully, looking up at him. Though he was across the room, she gave him the same look she'd given Pete earlier that day when he had asked if she was telling the truth about her bite. "I just needed help. I'm not… working for anyone."

A heavy silence settled over the kitchen for several seconds. Clementine didn't want to make him angry, but there was no way she was going to admit to something she had no part in. She didn't have a lot of things left, but she wasn't going to lose what little bit of dignity she had left.

"Rebecca was worried that you might be working with someone else. That your being here was no accident. I guess we'll find out. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," Carlos finally said, jaw clenched. "But stay away from my daughter."

With that, he left Clementine in the kitchen. Luke caught the door as the other man left, a bowl in his hands.

"Hey, uh," He glanced back at Carlos, then back to Clementine. "I brought you some food if you're hungry."