Hi, everyone! I finally posted the chapter that reviews things that happen between seasons 2 and 3. It has been a crazy semester. I have enjoyed my student teaching, and I look forward to graduating in December. I am still busy with stuff pertaining to school. I am now in the phase where I simply observe a middle school teacher. Anyway, I did rush this chapter a bit. I am also still using the twitter account I created for Fanfiction.

Italics=Flashback

Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything pertaining to The Walking Dead.

Frigid survival.

That pretty much summed up the past months since the farm was overrun, since Carol sacrificed herself for me, Lori, and "happiness." At times, it seemed like her sacrifice was in vain. There were only a few precious moments of happiness. Those rare moments were greatly outnumbered by the need for survival.

Relationships were at a standstill. Rick and Lori were no longer the signature happily married couple. However, the survival instinct wasn't all to blame for that. Lori's infidelity and Shane's issues were the major culprits. If formal divorce still existed, Rick probably would have served her with the paperwork months ago. Now, I guessed the symbol for divorce would be for them to throw their rings at one another while cursing. However, their rings were still snug on their fingers.

Compared to Rick and Lori, Glenn and Maggie were the happy couple. They remained close, but were on the quiet side like the rest of us. They still had their trademark displays of affection, but their eyes seemed void due to constant survival.

As for Daryl and I, we knew things would be different. There was little development in our relationship, yet I believed we were not broken.

A few nights after we escaped the grotesque walkers and blazing barn, we found a small, abandoned cabin to spend the night in. It was an extremely tight fit, but we were simply grateful to be indoors for the night. Of course, we knew it wasn't a permanent solution, especially due to the migrating walker herd.

Before turning in for the night, I sat outside on the dilapidated back porch railing. The railing was the only study part of the porch, but I was still cautious. It had been days since I noticed the calm, clear night. It was slightly relaxing to feel the light breeze wisp through my loose curls, but there was also something eerie and ominous about it.

As I was about to allow myself to venture away into my thoughts, I heard familiar, steady footfalls. I briefly glanced over to see Daryl approaching me.

"Thought ya wasn't on watch tonight?" He inquired.

"I'm not," I answered as I shifted my sitting position in order to face him. "I just wanted to get away from the cramped group for a few minutes."

"Don't blame ya. Even with the tight quarters, I can already see things are different with everyone, 'specially after Rick's speech the other night."

"In a way, they had it coming. I never had a problem with Rick."

"Same here. No matter what he said, things are gonna be rough."

The expression on his face and the tone in his gruff voice implied he was talking about more than the group's current situation. He was, once again, talking about us.

"I know. Things will be at a standstill for a while, but that doesn't mean things are broken," I said as I casually and purposefully used his own words.

The group would be slowly stitching its broken parts, but Daryl and I were not broken.

Daryl nipped at the cuticle surrounding his thumb nail, which told me he was thinking over what I told him. "That's a good way to think of it," he said as the corner of his lip barely twitched into a slight smile.

I felt a smile form on my lips. "I'm glad you agree."

Although our focus was not the development of our relationship, the smallest gestures seemed to count toward it. Everyone looked out for one another, but Daryl and I always closely watched one another's back.

After being on the road for a while, we finally found shelter different from the inside of our cramped vehicles. It was a small sporting goods store which was deserted in an abandoned community. It appeared to be the type of locally own store which had difficulties competing with the well-known, national store in the neighboring town. However, the small store held an advantage for us: it wasn't completely looted. We were able to find some ammo and a couple of shotguns. It was better than nothing.

As I explored the various, ransacked aisles. I spotted Carl staring down at a soccer ball. The white sections of it were stained with a light coating of dirt. Carl tapped the ball with the tip of his boot, which caused the ball to gently roll into the bottom shelf.

I gave him a tired smile as I approached him. "That could be handy to hold on to," I told him, "especially since you'll have a little brother or sister. When he or she gets bigger, you can roll it back and forth. I'm pretty sure I have a little room in my car for it."

A ghost of a smile was on his face, but it abruptly vanished. "No, that's okay," he replied before venturing to the next aisle.

My heart broke for him. Would he even have glimpses of a normal childhood with his sibling?

I turned down the next aisle, which was the one Carl didn't go through. It was mainly archery equipment. Although there were no crossbows or compound bows, there was a decent selection of parts and supplies. My keen eyes immediately landed on the neon green and yellow bolts. I knew Daryl needed new arrows, so I eagerly grasped the remaining handful to take with me.

I browsed through the remaining nearby aisles before returning to Daryl. He must have finished his perimeter check with Rick because he was sitting on the tile floor with his vested back against the block wall. I sat cross legged beside him, and brought forth the handful of new arrows.

"Happy Halloween, Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Whatever Holiday may be in fallish weather," I said in a light, joking tone.

He smirked at my lame humor as he took the arrows from me. "Thanks, I can definitely use these. They're one of the best ones, too. They should last awhile," he said while examining one of the bolts.

"That's good. Who knows when we'll find another place like this."

"Speakin' of which, great minds must think alike."

He then handed me a knife. The blade was much longer than the previous one I had, and the blade looked to be an inch or so wide. The tip of the blade abruptly narrowed to a sharp point, and the edges were equally sharp. Although light wasn't gleaming down on it, I knew the blade would have a bright glint to it. The handle also had a better, more durable grip.

"Since your knife got stuck in that one walker's head, figured ya need a new one. Ya can also swing it into a walker's head instead of just getting real close to stab him in the head. That's one of the perks of a machete compared to a plain knife. However, ya may need this dagger, too, just in case."

He then handed me the small dagger. There was nothing fancy about it. It was a matte black, durable handle with the shining, sharp blade. However, there was something elegant and lethal about it, and it looked like it would maintain those traits even when covered in dark walker blood.

"Thank you," I said in pure appreciation. "There was no way and no time to get my old knife back."

"Yeah," he replied, "it was a close call for all us that day."

Most of the time, the winters in the south were rather uneventful, except for the big storms which occurred every once in a while. This winter in Georgia was one of the rare eventful ones: it actually snowed. Despite the snow and walkers, there were some rare, small moments.

Daryl and I were the first night watch. A layer of fresh, soft snow covered the ground, and it continued to snow at a steady pace. Snowflakes fluttered from the night sky and landed on the cold ground to form another layer of glistening, white fluff. Due to the frigid air, Daryl stored his bike in Hershel's truck bed, and he usually rode with me in my car. He would definitely be driving my car tomorrow since the roads would be covered in snow and ice.

I alternated hands between holding the shotgun and warming a hand inside my fleece jacket's pocket. I needed to find some gloves soon since I could feel the cold air seep through my dry skin to numb the muscle and bones in my hands.

Despite the cold, it was a beautiful sight to behold. The snowflakes would also gently land on me, and some tickled my red nose and cheeks. I felt a miniscule grin form on my cold, chapped lips. Then, I lifted my head up to the darkness, opened my mouth, and allowed the crystal flakes to land on my tongue.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" I heard Daryl ask in a humored tone.

I quietly laughed as I closed my mouth to look at him. A humored smirk was on his face, and, for what has seemed like forever ago, he didn't seem quite as tense.

"I'm eating snowflakes," I answered matter-of-factly. "Since the big factories aren't up and running, this is probably the safest time to do so," I joked.

He snorted as he shook his head. "Ya gonna build a snowman, too?"

"I just might if Carl wants to, or I may just pelt him with a snowball or two."

"Don't aim for him. Aim for Lori," he suggested.

"That's a pretty good idea," I replied while walking to stand beside him.

His blue gaze was soft, and the rare smile formed on his lips. I was able to see him from the corner of my eye as I gazed back up at the tranquil night sky. I blinked away the soft snowflakes that gently landed on my eyelashes.

"What?" I finally inquired.

"Nothin'," he replied as a smirk replaced the small, soft smile.

"Oh, don't start the whole nothin' answers," I playfully warned him. "No one likes to hear that."

"Well, too damn bad, and don't even think 'bout throwin' a snowball at me either."

"Shit," I murmured. "There goes that idea."

The crunching of snow under footsteps grasped our attention, and we turned to see Glenn and Maggie approaching us to take over watch. Glenn was scooting his feet along the frozen ground, which caused snow to fly into the air. Maggie laughed at his antics.

The smallest moments truly had more meaning now.

The moments for survival greatly outnumbered the precious moments of normalcy. In the very beginning after abandoning the farm, luck was kind of on our side.

When we first found the small cabin, I decided to explore the backyard while others checked the perimeter and inside of the cabin. Tall stalks behind the ever growing grass caught my eye. As I closed the distance between me and my discovery, a smile formed on my lips.

It was the remains of a garden. Some of the vegetables were rotten, but some were still good to eat. A continuous vine of cucumbers crept across the dry dirt while corn stalks were bent in half. Ripe, red tomatoes were bright in the southern sunshine while rotten green beans shriveled up into nothingness.

"Elise? Are you out here?"

I stood back up to see Hershel walking over with a slightly worried expression. I continued to smile as I held up a cucumber and tomato.

"We'll have some garden fresh veggies tonight!" I exclaimed.

The farmer's aged face lit up at the sight. "I never thought I'd see a small garden again."

"I know," I replied. "It reminds me of helping my neighbors back in Tennessee with their garden. We'd work together to plant and maintain a decent sized garden."

"So, you know a bit about gardening, too?" He inquired as picked the ripe tomatoes.

"Yeah, when I had the time to."

"Who knows," he mused aloud, "maybe there will be a time for gardening again, and I'll get you to help me with it."

Despite the rare, light hearted moments during the winter, most of the season was plagued by cold survival.

Some people view winter as an elegant season. The fluffy white snow blankets everything outside, and it seems to freeze time as well. The bright sun reflects off nature's white silk, which causes the outdoor scene to glisten like diamonds.

However, that was not the case with our survival journey. While fighting stray walkers, the frigid cold numbed our bones, which hindered our movements at times. The tranquil winter scene was slaughtered by the splatter of grotesque walker blood. The world was far from a winter wonderland. It was a frozen hell.

After such scenes were over, I'd wonder about Andrea. If she escaped the farm, where could she possibly be? Perhaps she found another group. I once mentioned the "what if" scenario to Glenn, but he would only gaze down and sigh in sadness. He believe she, more than likely, didn't survive. Sadly, he was probably right.

Now, the group was waiting for Rick and Daryl to return from hunting. It was decently warm, and it was nice to stop for the time being.

I ran a hand through my short style curls. I actually kept it cut to the same length as before since I found a pair of sharp scissors in an old drugstore. Keeping it short also ensured a walker's decomposing hand couldn't grab me by the hair.

Before I could allow myself to delve into my thoughts, I was startled by the sudden yet gentle grasp on my arm.

"Ya gotta see this," Daryl abruptly informed me.

After driving a few miles, I was astounded at the site before me. We all stood by the chain link fence as we murmured to one another in amazement.

Fences. Solid walls. A Roof.

Rick stepped up to my side. "A bit ironic for us," he said, "isn't it?"

I chuckled under my breath. "Yeah. It is pretty ironic."

Our possible sanctuary was in the form of a Georgia prison.

Yay, now on to season 3! As always, reviews are appreciated. :)