AN: thanks for those kind reviews, I blushed :O

The next morning, Clementine walked along next to Pete on the path to the river as the sun was rising above the treetops. The birds chirped a cheerful chorus around them, and the sharp morning air smelled fresh and earthy.

"How far are these fish traps?" Clementine asked, making conversation.

"It ain't much further," Pete reassured her. He noticed Clementine looking curiously at the rifle in his hands. "Can't you shoot?" he asked. "I mean, anyone taught you proper? Any idiot with a finger can shoot."

"Yeah, but not a rifle," she answered. "I've just never had to use one, I guess."

Pete chuckled. "Probably for the best. With your size, this thing would knock you on your ass. You know, I remember the first time I took Nick huntin'. Came across this beautiful 13-point buck just standin' there on the ridgeline. The boy takes the rifle, he lines up the shot just like I taught him… then I hear him start whinin'. He turns to me and he says, 'I can't do it. I can't shoot it, Uncle Pete. Please don't make me shoot it!'" Clementine smiled.

"Hey!" Nick came running down the path behind them. "Why didn't you wait?"

"You want us standin' around while you piss on a tree? You know where the river is, boy," Pete said, shaking his head. He turned back toward Clementine, continuing the story. "Anyway, so I grab the gun out of his hand before this big buck runs off when BANG! The gun fires. Boy nearly gut shot me. And of course the buck gets away." Nick looked angrily from Pete to Clementine as he realized what Pete was telling her.

"What're you goin' and tellin' her this shit for?" he demanded.

Pete turned on him. "'Cause you almost blew her face off. Seems relevant. Tryin' to let her know it's nothin' personal with you."

Nick lowered his rifle and narrowed his eyes at Pete. "Why're you always givin' me a hard time?" he asked.

"Because you're always givin' everyone else a hard time," Pete answered calmly.

"I apologized already. She accepted," Nick told him, almost pleadingly. "And yet you're always tryin' to embarrass me."

"You're doin' a good enough job of that on your own," Pete said, his voice raised a notch. Nick shouldered past him, walking down the path with a set face. "Leavin' us agai-"

"I know where the fuckin' river is," Nick spat.

Clementine and Pete watched him walk down the path ahead. Pete turned back to Clementine.

"So anyway, I found that buck later that season. Shot it right in the neck. Brought it up to my sister's figurin' she'd wanna freeze some of the meat. Nick didn't speak to me for weeks." Pete sighed, an emotion flickering across his face. Regret? "Sometimes you gotta play a role. Even if it means people you love hate you for it," he finished. Clementine looked up at him, biting her lip.

"He doesn't hate you, you know," she said softly. Pete's face softened. He looked down at her gratefully.

Suddenly, Nick's voice rang out through the woods. "Uncle Pete!" His voice was urgent.

Pete and Clementine ran to meet Nick at the river, stopping short when they saw what was there.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Pete whispered softly.

Illuminated in the early morning light, the riverbank was littered with human bodies. They were strewn haphazardly on the ground, faces mangled and clothes bloodstained. Pete walked up to the closest body and poked it hesitantly with his rifle. He turned back to Clementine and Nick, his face creased with anxiety. "Fulla holes," he reported.

"Who do you think did this?" Clementine asked, scared.

"Not sure yet," Pete answered. "But it ain't your average gang o'thugs, that much I know."

Nick stared at Pete with a frightened look. "Think about it. You're Carver. What do you do?"

"Who's Carver?" Clementine probed. Pete and Nick exchanged glances before looking away from Clementine. Clementine's brow furrowed. They're hiding something.

"Check those guys there," Pete instructed Nick, pointing down the riverbank. "Be careful. Some of 'em might still be movin'." Pete walked towards the bodies on the other side of the clearing. Clementine gazed out into the river, looking at a small island just off the bank.

"There are more out there," she pointed out to Pete.

"This wasn't no rinky-dink pissin' match," Pete said darkly.

"What was it then?" Nick asked him.

"Fubar," Pete declared. Fucked up beyond all reason. He approached the bodies lying on the island in the river.

"Where are you going?" Nick demanded. "We need to get the fuck outta here!"

"Gotta check the rest," Pete told him.

"What? Why?" Nick asked, disbelieving.

"Calm down and think about it, son," Pete said, exasperated, as he waded through the river.

Clementine turned towards Nick. "What if someone's alive, Nick?" she asked. "They might be able to tell us who did this." She hopped on rocks in the river towards Pete.

"This is a dumb idea," Nick warned, looking around anxiously.

"You know, Nick, I don't like this either. But sooner or later you're gonna have to realize a simple truth," Pete told him, irritation in his voice.

"What? That you're an asshole?"

Pete raised his voice. "That nobody in this world is ever gonna give a goddamn whether you like somethin' or not. You gotta grow up, son." He looked at Nick intently.

"Whatever," Nick huffed dismissively. He stomped off down the riverbank.

Pete turned away, disappointment on his face. "C'mon, Clem," he told her. "Keep a lookout on that treeline. Whoever did this might still be out there, waitin' for another sucker to stumble across this mess."

Clementine walked towards the other side of the island. Gasping, she noticed a flash of purple next to one of the bodies. My backpack! She crouched next to it and pulled it toward her.

Suddenly, she was aware of motion beside her. One of the bodies moved and blinked, looking up at her helplessly. The man coughed, his jaundiced eyes pleading with Clementine. She looked from the man to the backpack, quickly piecing together who he was. She narrowed her eyes.

"You were in the woods with Christa," she said, her voice low. "The woman I was with. What happened to her? Please. Tell me. Tell me!" she demanded.

He kept coughing, reaching out weakly for the water bottle in the backpack. He spoke, his voice dry and scratchy. "Please…" he begged.

Anger welled up in Clementine's chest. Shaking a little, she zipped up the backpack and slung it over her shoulder. The man looked up at her helplessly as she stood up, glaring down at him.

Pete's cry rang out over the river. "AARRGHH!" He backed away from a walker grasping at his ankles, shooting it with his rifle.

"Pete!" Nick yelled from the other side of the river.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Pete panted, his hands on his knees. "Just… just lost my footing! Dammit… Goddammit…"

Clementine's eyes went from the walker at his feet to his torn pants to the bloody flesh beneath. Understanding dawned on her, making her stomach sink. She shared a terrified look with Pete.

"Shit! Lurkers!" Nick's voice cried out from the one side of the river.

"I'm out of ammo! Get your asses over here!" Pete yelled from the other.

Walkers, attracted by the gunshot, advanced on both Nick and Pete. Looking from one to the other wildly, Clementine made a mad dash over to Nick, splashing through the water and dodging walkers. Just as she reached Nick, Pete's screams became increasingly desperate, and they both watched helplessly as Pete was overcome by walkers. Nick reloaded as quickly as he could, but by the time he shot the walkers on the other side of the river, Pete was already gone.

Nick stared at Pete's lifeless figure, horrified. Clementine pulled at his arm. "Nick, we've gotta go," she begged.

He turned on her with a wild look. "You could've saved him," he accused. "How could you just leave him?"