Aaaaand here's another chappie-cho, with yet again a new POV. I like exploring new characters. If you feel like I've interpreted it wrong or just think it's plain OOC, send me a PM and I'll try to do better next time! ;)

(Disclaimer: After almost three years of this story, I still don't own The Walking Dead)

Enjoy! ;)

Rosita

I feel like we're back to where we left off in the first place; on foot. I'd always hated the screeching sounds the army truck made while driving, and the bumpy roads which made the lower half of my body always numb, but now I wished for those minor complications.

We'd left early in the morning. I don't think I've closed my eyes for even one minute, but for some unexplainable reason I feel totally fine. Eugene, on the other hand, looks like he's about to pass out, even though he's the one person who slept through the whole night. Such a whiner.

Abraham's not looking too bright either, but I know he can handle it. Glenn just looks miserable all the way through, but that's probably caused due to his recent sickness. Tara looks more paranoid than tired, which I can understand.

It's too quiet out here. We've still got a long way ahead of us, and that makes me worry about the weakest member of our crew; the kid. He seems exhausted and keeps tripping over his own feet, his eyes barely opened and his face looks like nothing more than a skull with a thin layer of skin pulled over it. Glenn often glances over his shoulder, but doesn't attempt to help him in any way. It's like he doesn't know how to. And most of all; he seems scared of the kid. And all that just because he knows how to pull the trigger.

Tara, whom I figured was also responsible for the boy, seems even less interested in him. I just learned last night that she and Glenn had only met the other day, and decided to travel together. Of course she hasn't had the time to bond with the kid in any way, but she doesn't try it either.

I feel bad for him. He looks and probably feels miserable having to travel with people who treat him like grownup and not having his parents around. They're probably dead, I suppose.

Abraham asked me to look after Eugene while we're on the road, and due to the doctor physical state we're basically walking at the tail of the group. Eugene often needs to pause and we can't really keep up like this, but I don't really have a choice.

It's midday, the sun shines directly on to us. There are no trees next to the road, which means no shadows to cool down under. We're almost out of water, which will be a problem later on.

The boy is slowing down and it won't be long before even Eugene will catch up to him. The doctor needs to pause again, and I take this time to walk up to the kid.

"Hey, you ok?"

The boy turns around, sweat glimmering over his entire face. "I'm good, just a little thirsty."

I give him a smile, in the hopes of making him feel better somehow. With one hand I search through my backpack, and lock my hand around a plastic bottle. "Here. It's not much, but I figured you're still growing, so…you can have it."

The boy looks at the bottle in my hand, and licks his lips. But for some reason, he hesitates. He turns his head to Eugene, who's panting like a pig. "I think he needs it more."

I glare over my shoulder. "Nah, he's had enough already. C'mon, drink."

"You first."

I frown. "What? You think it's poisoned or something?"

He shakes his head. "No, that's not it. But you need it too. I'll take the rest."

After hesitating, I decide that he's right. My mouth feels like a desert. I take one drop, and one drop only. The kid's too kind.

When I hand him the bottle, I watch how he slowly lets two drops land on his tongue. It seems to wake him up somehow, but I thought he'd at least take a whole sip.

"We have more people" he says when he catches me staring at him. "And the next river must be ahead."

"Yeah…" I mumble, not sure how to respond. This kid is way too smart for his own good. And kind too. It seems he has a 'switch'; a different personality. Some people have two personalities; one is themselves, and the other is another character taking over the body when needed, for example when something happens such as an accident, a fight, or a life-threatening situation. I think that's what happened yesterday.

Most of the people who have this discover this during their puberty. But this kid is what…ten? That's crazy.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask after a while. We've been walking for a while now, behind Eugene that is. I can't have him slacking off, so I keep a close eye on him.

The boy's health seemed to have improved a little. He's more alert and talkative than before.

"Sure" he answers lightly.

"Who taught you how to shoot?"

The boy shrugs. "Just some girl back home. She was my best friend, and she said she was my sister. But then she wasn't anymore and then she disappeared."

I nod. It isn't a very clear answer, and if curiosity takes over I might ask Glenn about it later. "Back home? You mean the prison?"

To my surprise, a smile appears on the boy's face. As if good memories came to his mind. "Yeah. She called it her 'palace', and she was the queen. My brother and I lived there for a while." He sighs. "I wish I could go back there. The prison was nice."

"I often wish I could go back home too" I say, trying to make conversation. This kid deserves a small talk. "And maybe I can someday. If we make it to Washington."

"I also wish my mom would come back. Then me, Dan and Vicky could all live together in the prison. If Vicky would stop being mean, that is."

I freeze. That name. What's with that name…why does it give me Goosebumps?

The boy turns around, his face worried a little. "What's wrong?"

"What was that name?"

"Uh, Vicky. She's the girl that taught me how to shoot." He frowns. "Is everything ok? Did I say something wrong?"

I narrow my eyes, my sight piercing Abraham's back, hoping he'd somehow turn around. But he's too far away, and I don't want to shout since there could be walkers near.

It might just be a coincidence, but still. The possibility of this girl being the same one as I have in mind…

The fact she calls that prison her 'palace' suggests that childish character we all fear so much.

"No" I answer, and a smile appears on my face. "Everything's fine."

Michonne

Vicky holds up a bright yellow sweater with a teddy bear on it. "If you don't want it, I'll take it."

"You can have it" I mumble, grabbing a leather jacket from the box. I'd never expected Rick and Vicky would come back carrying three boxes full of clothes. I've gotten the feeling Rick quite likes having her around, despite the danger of her going berserk again. Carl is the same too.

For example; at the moment, the two of them are challenging each other how many sweaters they can put on. It looks like Vicky's winning, though.

"You know, this might be the best defence against walkers!" Carl says, after giving up. Soon I'll have to help him remove the seven remaining sweaters.

"Of course!" Vicky responds, easily slithering her petite body between the clothes. "We could just walk through without them giving a shit! How brilliant!"

"Keep it down, will you?" Rick grumbles, pointing at a walker appearing at the horizon. Vicky looks up like a puppy hearing a whistle. Her eyes lock at the walker, and a scary glimmer appears in her eyes. Her mouth curls into a conspiring grin.

"Time to test that theory" she says, and before anyone can respond, she's already running towards the silhouette.

"What the-" is all I can say, but then I ask myself why I even care. She'd survived this long on her own, there's no need for me to jump in. From the corner of my eye, I see Rick thinking the same thing. Worry crosses his face, but then he realizes he shouldn't be.

Over the last couple of days, it's becoming clear Rick's not going to send the girl off. Not yet, at least. He seems to be softer now, as if Vicky turned a switch. At this point, I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad one.

"WEEEEEEHOOOOO!" Vicky's voice sounds from afar. The great amount of sweaters is juggling around her thin body and she almost looks like a tennis ball bumping around the forest.

"There goes 'keeping it down'" I sigh, glancing at Rick. He rubs his forehead, like a father does when he doesn't know how to respond to his child.

Was that it, maybe? It's obvious Rick somehow feels responsible for the girl. But he can't see her as a daughter. Right…?

The walker finally notices Vicky nearing him, and spreads his arms in an attempt to grab her. But Vicky doesn't slow down, and when she's closing in on the walker, it's already too late to stop. She bumps into the undead man, who gets launched backwards a few feet. Vicky herself gets thrown back by the shock and lets out an excited cry. Like a little child in the Mary-go-around for the first time.

The walker gets his head pierced by a sharp branch which just so happened to be sticking out at the right height. He lets out one more growl before his arms drop.

Vicky rolls back on her feet, her eyes widened. "Did you see that?!"

"We sure did" I grumble, crossing my arms. I really have no idea how to respond to this.

Vicky points at the dead walker and bursts out laughing. "That's crazy!"

I snort. "Look who's talking."

Suddenly, the expression on her face changes. Not because of my response. I've been dropping these for the last couple days, she's used to those. But there's something else. Her face tells me she's remembering something, recognition.

"I've been here before" she mumbles, and then turns around. She still wearing the sweaters, which makes it look like she's wearing a fat suit of some kind.

She takes a few steps, analysing every tree she crosses. After a while she nods. "Yeah, it must be around here…."

I look at Rick, who lifts an eyebrow. "I have no idea."

Vicky kneels down in front of one particular tree, and knocks on the trunk. "Hello?"

I decide to walk over, one hand on the sword on my back. "What are you doing?"

I suddenly see her knife flicker in the sunlight as she cuts open the tree trunk. "I hid something here…something important…"

A second later, a piece of wood flies around my head. Several splinters dance through the air as the redhead breaks open the tree. After a while, she lets out a cry of surprise. "I knew it was you!"

She puts both her hands inside the tree, searching through. When she pulls back, she's holding an ancient sword.

I widen my eyes. "Where did you get that?"

Vicky pushes the weapon against her face like it's a fluffy animal. "I adopted him from a museum. His name is Boo!"