A/N: This is one of my favorite parts, so I hope you all like it, too! :)

Camellias

It's late afternoon when Negan wakes up in bed. He sits up, wincing at the groggy feeling in his head. He holds his head. The wives are all asleep, so he warily gets up and goes to the kitchen to down a jug of milk. He goes over to the toilet and throws up.

Noticing Sherry's bedroom door is still shut, he goes in to check on them. He notices two lumps in the bed and figures they're asleep. He's about to shut the door when he notices that the lumps are mysteriously still. He goes over to them and finds they're just blankets. He pulls the covers away and mutters a curse word. A piece of paper flutters to the ground which he picks up.

It reads: "We'll send the divorce papers by carrier pigeon ? Love, Bree."

He crumbles up the paper and wobbles over to the door, ready to tell Dwight off but finds he's gone, too. He pieces it together and feels like a blood vessel's going to burst in his head. He goes over to the wine bottle and sees white residue at the bottom.

Cursing, he sits back on the couch and holds his head, trying to regain his sense of balance.

He laughs darkly. "She is so dead."

Bree is sitting up in a tree, humming to herself, cheeks and nose red from the cold. Her earphones are in, and she's listening to "Reverie" by Debussy as she twiddles her numbed fingers around like a conductor.

She stuffs her music player back in her jacket pocket and gazes back down at the ground, which is frosted and dead. She removes her earphones as a loud beep informs her that the battery is finally dying. The sound of the forest—rustling leaves, slight wind, birds—flood back to her. She closes her eyes and inhales and exhales, blowing fog everywhere.

"Bye, old friend," she whispers.

She climbs down and gets to work on creating a trap, using her trusty earphones' wire and natural resources to create a snare trap like Merle showed her. She sets a bit of refried beans in the trap and then heads back to her tree to wait. A moment later, she hears a spring.

Later, she is skinning a rabbit while Sherry and Dwight watch with mixed reactions.

"That is actually very gross," Sherry states while looking away. "I can't watch."

"It's even grosser having to do it," Bree assures her, while trying not to gag herself. "I try not to think about it while I do it. But just wait until I get to the insides."

"Nope, not sticking around for that," Sherry says, getting up and hobbling off towards the water they were situated by.

"We have to help out somehow!" Dwight calls after her. Sherry doesn't show any signs of stopping. Dwight shakes his head. "We'd be lost out here without you."

"Nah," Bree replies modestly. "When you need to survive or protect someone you love, I think you become a lot more capable than you know. This stuff I was taught only makes it easier."

Bree continues on cleaning the rabbit while Dwight regards the girl. He glances at the fire. "So what happens when we make it to your people? You sure they'll take us in?"

Bree stops cutting a moment as she recalls her last conversation with Alonso. She continues. "I really hope so," she whispers.

"What if they don't?"

Bree grimaces. "We'll just keep going on our own, putting as much distance between us and Sanctuary as possible. We can't risk going to any camps nearby, since most of them are affiliated with Negan in some way. Eventually, we'll find a place to make our own."

"You make it sound so easy," Dwight murmurs. "I'm pretty sure Negan's going to come after us. Having all three of us stab him in the back makes 'im look weak. He's gonna want to make sure we get made an example of. For Sherry, she'll probably get something cut off. For me, the other side of my face. For you... Heck, probably something even worse."

Bree spears the rabbit on the spit over the fire and begins collecting the innards and fur.

"He'll have to catch us first," she comments with a shaky smile. "I won't make it easy this time."

She takes the gore over to the river and drops it in, then cleanses her hands free of the blood. She head back to the fire, drops back down and turns the spit once.

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be better if we had some people willing to fight with us? I think you should try to explain the situation to your friends. If they know you, they'll believe you. I never gave up on Sherry even after Negan separated us," Dwight says, casting a look at Sherry who was sitting on a stump, watching the water. "It was torture knowing she was with him. But we never gave up on each other."

"That's true love," Bree says with a soft smile that Dwight returns before looking down at his feet. Bree resumes rotating the spit. "I hope they'll forgive me and understand. I was stupid for thinking that I could change anyone. I got so many people hurt, and for what? Nothing's changed. I wouldn't blame them for not wanting me around."

"...You helped me and Sherry out."

Bree smiles at his attempt to cheer her up. Taking a deep breath, she quotes, "Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"Hm? It's a quote from a book I read called 'The Prophet'."

"Yeah, I know, but I didn't expect you to just start spouting off random quotes? What are you getting at?"

Bree looks at him excitedly. "You've read 'The Prophet'?!"

"Don't look so surprised," he warns her. "I may not look it, but I got my AA in English. Gibran was a great writer."

"Yeah!" Bree agrees. "Which college did you graduate from?"

"Little college in Tifton. It's probably gone now."

"...Have you always loved English?"

"Yeah," Dwight's face lights up. "I wanted to be a writer before I joined the Army. I wanted to take Sherry to all the fancy places writers go for inspiration—Rome, Paris... Life kinda got in the way of all that."

"Maybe you'll still be able to do it, once all of this passes."

"...Are you always so optimistic?"

Bree shakes her head and shakes her head. "Just hopeful. It helps me get by."

She wipes her wet hands on her jeans and looks up at the sky, making sure the smoke is relatively light.

"You talking about Negan?"

She looks down and freezes at the cold look on Dwight's face. She looks back to the fire, brow furrowed. "What?"

"That quote... You still thinking you can change him?"

Carefully, slowly, she says, "No. It's impossible to change someone. They've got to do that on their own. I do think it would be better for all of us if he weren't so..."

"Messed up? Evil? Twisted?"

"All of the above."

"Well, if you want your people to take you back, stop quoting stuff like that. They'll think you hold some affection for him."

Bree glares at him. "I don't."

Dwight glares back at her before looking the direction Sherry had been, only to see she isn't there. He scrambles to his feet, heart pounding.

"Sherry!" he yells before taking off in the direction he last saw her. Bree quickly takes off after him.

They look around for her, but she's nowhere to be found. Dwight starts cursing and yelling for her while Bree warns him to keep it down. Suddenly, Sherry shrieks. They both run to the river where they look around for her.

"Where is she?" Dwight panics.

In a moment, Sherry emerges from the water like a cresting dolphin, shaking and sopping wet.

Dwight runs in and helps her out, then quickly puts his jacket around her.

"Sherry! What in the world were you doing in the water?!" Bree wonders.

She sneezes and looks away. "I wanted to help. By catching fish."

Dwight hugs her and laughs. "You idiot. Since when do you catch fish? Especially with your bare hands?"

Everyone laughs in relief and then hurry to get Sherry by the fire.

Dwight pays extra special attention to her, the worry evident on his face.

That night they eat warmed tomato soup with seared rabbit, swap stories and feel carefree for the first time in a long time.

Their travel continues. No sign of the camp, no sign of Negan until the third day when a group of his men drive by. The group hides at a riverbank, inside a hovel barely big enough for them to all squish together. When Negan's men pass, the group realizes that they must be being tracked. They're more careful with setting up camp from then on, clearing all signs that would make it evident that humans were there.

Sherry begins to feel sick, noting her stump was starting to hurt as well. Dwight says they need to find respite soon or try a camp. Bree feels anxious about getting her newfound companions somewhere safe. She tries to keep a brave face, but at night, she worries about her ability to take care of them, coming close to having panic attacks.

Finally, they come across an abandoned town called Henry. The small town consists of charred trailer homes, ransacked diners and drugstores, trash, and abandoned cars. No walkers in sight.

As a group, they decide to search the town for medicine, food, water, and a place they can stay the night. Bree discovers a house with a crib that she's too afraid to look into as she found the parents bodies in their bed.

She is grateful and sad to see remnants of what life was before—old photos, molded pizzas, clothes... She racks up on personal products like feminine products and painkillers in the drugstores. She notices all the diapers and such are missing and she wonders if maybe there is a baby alive here somewhere. Smiling, she finds a couple of books she can read later, thinking she'll give one to Dwight.

They find one house a bit on the outskirts of the town that is still standing and decide to take their minuscule haul there. As they enter and look about the dank house, it becomes clear that someone is living there. Dirty dishes, fresh ash in the fireplace, opened cans of food that don't reek... sunlight filters through the windows, highlighting fresh flowers and succulents. A fish swims happily in a fish bowl, next to packs of molded bread.

They up their guard.

That's when a little old woman comes hobbling around the corner, carrying a watering can. She has a short black bob, big, friendly eyes, and she's wearing a long dress and apron. She stops and smiles sweetly at the intruders.

"Well, I can't remember the last time I had visitors," she greets them amicably. "Won't you stay for supper?"

The Sanctuary escapees lower their weapons, although Bree remains a bit hesitant.

Later, the group is sitting around the table, cans of kimchi and bowls of soup in front of them all.

"Are you sure you can spare this?" Dwight asks even as he digs into his food with all the manners of a grizzly.

"It's a little too late to ask that now," Sherry teases, making Bree and the old woman giggle.

The woman waves him off with a sweet smile. "I don't hardly eat much these days. I imagine it won't be long before I don't have use for food. Even though the world's changing, growing older hasn't."

They don't really know what to say, so Bree pipes up saying, "What happened to this town?"

The woman gets a glazed look about her brown eyes, as though she stepped away from their reality. "The army decided this place was finished. They dropped explosives here without seeing who was left. I was lucky enough to have a basement to take cover in and a home away from most, so my husband and I escaped death. We're the only ones here now."

"Your husband?"

They hear a horrible wailing coming from downstairs. Everyone grabs a hold of their weapons, but the woman seems unfazed.

"I know you smell food, nae sarang. I'm coming." She gets up and fixes a bowl and excuses herself politely. Platter in hand, she hobbles down to her basement. After she nearly trips going down the stairs, Sherry and Bree get up to help her while Dwight finishes his food.

"Do you mind if we help?" Bree asks. The woman smiles at them and allows them to help her down the stairs.

The room has a distinct odor about it; human perspiration, bodily fluids, moth balls all cram together and make the windowless room nearly suffocating. In the middle of the dark room lays an older man. He has an oxygen tank beside him, and he's wheezing gently at the women who enter.

The woman approaches him with a renewed smile on her face that Bree notices replaced her worried expression. She also notices all of the adult diapers seem to have been moved there.

"Look, honey. We have visitors. You love company, remember?" She asks as she places his food beside him and takes a seat at the foot of his bed. The frail man gives her a weak smile, like a child's.

"Company..." he repeats in a raspy voice. "Company, yes."

Bree swallows at the man who is obviously on his last leg. "Hello."

"Hello," he says back, still glancing furtively at his wife. She squeezes his hand and smiles at the girls.

"You must forgive my poor manners. I'm afraid I am a little rusty. I'm Jung-sook. This is my husband, Sung-ki. What are your names?"

"I'm Sherry. Nice to meet you both."

"I'm Bree."

"Very pretty names for very pretty girls. Our home is your home for as long as you need. We don't have much, but we have enough to share with friends and visitors."

Bree gets ready to go back upstairs, but Sherry squats beside the oxygen machine, a concerned look on her face. She looks at Jung-sook, who shakes her head sadly. Sherry goes with Bree back upstairs.

"What's wrong, Sherry?" Bree asks as they take a seat by Dwight.

"That tank is almost empty," she admits, fists pressed to her lips. And that cannula is encrusted with green nasal discharge. He needs a new cannula, antibiotics, and another tank of oxygen."

"And how is that our problem, Sher? We just met the lady. And we're on the run. We don't have time to help strangers. I have to get you somewhere safe."

"Stop acting like you're the leader here!" Sherry suddenly snaps. "I am done with men telling me what to do. I want to help that lady. And I'm going to do it."

Dwight and her look at Bree for confirmation. Bree, who was slurping from her bowl, lowers it to find them both glaring at her.

"We can't just eat and run," Bree slowly replies. "Especially you, Dwight. You've had more than all of us. Don't think I didn't notice my kimchi's missing."

Dwight looks ready to lie, but Sherry pushes him playfully and they all laugh.

"I hope you have the worse diarrhea," she continues as they all laugh. Once they calm down, Dwight sighs and asks, "Well? Anyone know of any hospitals around?"

"We'll ask Jung-sook when she comes up," Bree confirms.

"Ask me what?"

Jung is climbing up the stairs, watching them curiously. Sherry gets up and goes over to her.

"We want to help you and your husband. Can you tell us where the nearest hospital is? I noticed you seem to already have taken everything from the drug store."

The woman's face crumples and she begins to cry tears of joy. "Thank you... Thank you so much. I'm not ready to be alone. Not like this."

Sherry comforts her.

That night, they decide that Bree and Sherry should go. Sherry knows what to look for, and Bree has the survival knowledge.

Together, the two young women travel to the hospital. The woman offered their car, but they don't want to make any noise. They head over to the hospital in the dark of the night, sticking close to each other as Bree wanted to make sure Sherry didn't fall.

"I can't believe Negan's okay with doing something so cruel," Bree mutters angrily.

Sherry agrees. "I'll make sure he gets his. I will not let him get away with what he did to Dwight and I."

"How did you two meet?"

Sherry gets a softer look on her face, eyes taking on a reminiscent glow that makes her seem her age for once instead of the hardened woman she'd become.

"During basic training. I was a nurse, he was an infantryman. He had all these big dreams about writing, and I wanted to travel the world as a nurse. Funny how dreams don't mean anything anymore."

"At least you're together again," Bree offers.

Sherry smiles. "Yeah. That's what really matters."

The women find the hospitals main entrances boarded up, but the building is intact. A few Walkers notice them searching around, so they have to search even quicker for an entrance. Bree spots an open window on the ground floor. After helping Sherry into it, she hoists herself up. They find themselves in the dusty waiting room. Chairs are fallen over and covered in cobwebs. Magazines are spilled everywhere. Empty gurneys line the dark halls.

"This should be easy," Sherry says drearily. "It's like one of those haunted house rides in here."

"Let's hope there are no psychotic doctors or nurses around..."

They pad quietly down the defunct hospital, on the lookout for what Sherry calls the supply room. Bree realizes that most of the rooms have been boarded up and low familiar moans reverberate throughout the halls.

"They locked the patients away," Bree says.

"Before or after they turned?"

Neither woman knows the answer, so they continue their search in contemplative silence until Sherry sees a sign indicating the room she was searching for. Fortunately, the door has no boards. Unfortunately, it's locked.

"There's probably a key at the nurses' station," Sherry suggests. "I'll go look."

"And I'll go with you? I'm not too keen on wandering around here alone," Bree admits as she shivers at the thought of the trapped monsters held back by only a few inches of door.

The women go over to the station only to the have a Walker in nurse's scrubs rise up from under the counter. She looks strangely alive—only the paleness of her irises, the blood caked around her moth, and the bullet wound gives away she's past life.

Sherry scrambles away while Bree quickly shoves a cart full of medical tools against the Walker, pressing her back against the counter. Trapped, the Walker desperately but uselessly tries to reach for Bree, but she keeps her distance.

"Keep looking for the key!" Bree urges as the Walker begins to grow more fervent in her efforts. Sherry sidles around the scary scene taking place in front of her and continues to hunt down the keys by rummaging through every drawer she sees. Finally, she pulls out a lanyard with several keys on it. She rushes over to the door and begins trying them.

Bree grunts with exertion as the walker's strength outmatches her own. The nurse is able to push the cart away and come hurtling towards Bree, arms swinging wildly, brown-filled mouth gnawing at air as it drew closer. Bree stuffs a bear someone had on the desk in the woman's mouth to prevent a bite and then uses all of her strength to kick the woman in her stomach. Using her stunned moment to get back to her feet, Bree uses a paperweight to finish her.

She looks up and sees that Sherry has the door open but is watching Bree with a look between fear and respect in her eyes.

"...I found the key," she says. Bree nods and steps carefully over the corpse, placing her bloody weapon on the counter. The sweat on her forehead and the clamminess of her hands has her feeling sick. She tries not to think of her mom as one of those things.

The women go into the medical supply room. Bree is amazed at the amount of resources. Sherry sets four oxygen tanks by the door and heads back to the shelves. She opens her bag and begins stuffing medication into her bag, which she emptied earlier at Jung's home.

After she zipped up her bag, she said that should be even more than enough for us and her and her husband.

"Wanna check out the caf? Do you think they might have something stored away?"

"Yeah, they probably have some canned food and water. Good idea."

As Sherry opens the door, Bree becomes aware of a creepy dragging noise outside and notices a shadow moving past the window pane on the door. Too late. Amber opens the door and turns statue-still at the sight of a large, muscular Walker glaring down at her. Bree quickly pulls Sherry back and yanks the door shut. The Walker slams against the door and growls ferociously, excited at the prospect of a meal. Bree locks the door and backs away from it slowly as the pounding only grows more fierce and multiplied as others join him. The glass window on the door shatters and the muffled groans are amplified with no sound barrier between them and the survivors. Dead hands shove through the new entrance and writhe about like snakes in a pit. Shards of glass pierce their brittle flesh but Bree knows they don't feel the pain, or maybe they just don't care anymore. They were in a frenzy.

Thinking quickly, Bree points to a vent near the back of the room. Trying to stay calm, she says in a voice that quakes, "You remember in the movies when they use the vents to escape? I say we give it a shot."

"B-But my leg," Sherry cries.

"You can do it," Bree assures her. Boxes of files make a good height boost. Bree uses a coin to unscrew the vent's shaft and placed it aside. Then she and Sherry grabbed the tanks and pulled themselves inside.

With Amber leading the way, the women crawl through the tight confines of the vent, trying not to hyperventilate from how little stale, dusty air their lungs are able to draw.

"I hope this doesn't lead somewhere even worse," Sherry laments.

"Stay positive," Bree urges. "Anything's got to be better than that bodybuilder of a Walker back there."

Amber shivers. "It was huge. We stood no chance."

Their endless crawling came to an end as they found an exit that seemed like it was back in the waiting room.

Sherry situates herself so that she's on her back and begins kicking with her one able foot against the grate. Perspiration builds on her forehead as she kicks over and over. Taking a break to catch her breath, she begins again. The grate begins to give way. Growing more desperate, she kicks until the grate gives completely and falls with a clang to the ground.

Sherry scrambles out, wincing at the far drop, but recovering quickly and holding her hands up for the tanks. Bree passes them down to her and then jumps out.

Bree notices Sherry looking winded and wonders if she needs a moment. Amber shakes her head and grins. "Maybe I'm crazy, but I feel pretty good right now. I feel useful for once."

Bree smiles at her. They take their supplies and head back to town. Once they get there, they notice that there are new, familiar cars parked on the outskirts of the city.

"Those look like some of Negan's cars," Sherry panics. "We spent too much time here. We gotta go."

They run as quickly as they can manage to Jung's house and knock. Dwight answers the door with a gun aimed at Sherry's forehead. Cursing, he lowers it and pulls the women inside, shutting and locking the door behind them.

"You saw Negan's cars, too," Sherry rasps. "What do we do?!"

Jung comes up from the basement and gasps at the sight of the oxygen tanks. She clasps her hands together as tears spring to her milky eyes.

"Thank you so much," she whispers. "Please, let me know how I can help you."

"We're gonna need that car," Dwight says quickly. The woman shuffles over to her kitchen and pulls out a key. She places it into Dwight's open hand with a kind smile.

"May God bless you all on your travels. Leave the tanks to me. I'll get them downstairs."

"We can help with that," Sherry offers, but Dwight shakes his head.

"Only one of us needs to help with that. You can help me make sure this car is gonna last."

Amber gives him a strange look, then nods resignedly. They move to the garage while Bree helps to bring the medication and tanks down to Sung.

"Company," he greets her.

"Yes, dear. And this time, the company brought you some gifts to make you feel better."

He seems confused but smiles nonetheless. The old lady gives him some water and helps him take his antibiotics then switches out his tank. Her husband gives a pleased sigh.

Bree grins. "I hope this will be enough to last you. I think we'll all be back to check on you."

Jung smiles appreciatively at the younger woman and squeezes her hand to convey how she feels since she's on the verge of tears.

Bree hears the car starting up, so she stands to leave.

"Thank you for your kindness," she tells the couple before heading upstairs. She gets to the garage and is surprised to see the car is already rolling down the road.
Her heart sinks as she races out after it, duffel bag swinging.

"Hey!" she yells. "Hey!"

The car rolls on. Inside, Sherry turns around in her seat to face the front again.

"This isn't right, Dwight," she murmurs. "And you know it."

Dwight focuses on the road, eyes narrowed. "This will give us a chance to get somewhere safe. He'll take her back to Sanctuary, make sure she can't get away, we get a few more days between us and him. We gotta worry about us."

Sherry watches the girl they came to know running desperately after the car in her rearview mirror. As she trips and lands on the ground, Sherry pulls her eyes away and maintains steely eye contact with the road ahead. She and Dwight hold hands.

Bree pulls herself off of the ground, the sting of betrayal hurting worse than her skinned hands. She climbs back to her feet as she hears cars approaching and darts back towards Jung's house.

She contemplates knocking as she didn't want to get them involved, but Jung opens the door and gives her a pitying smile.

"Let me know how I can help."

Bree hides beneath Sung's bed in the basement as Jung waits in the living room, as calm as can be. When Negan and several of his men barge into the home unannounced, she looks up and gives them a smile.

"Oh... It's nice to have company. It's been so long since I last had some."

Negan eyes the old woman for a moment with a wide, pleasantly surprised grin.

"Well, well! Grandma, how you doing? You must be a pretty kick-butt granny to still be alive right now!"

She laughs. "I'm afraid all I've done is hide in my house. Nothing too brave about me."

Negan shakes his head, unwilling to see her discredit herself. "Come on, lady, give yourself some props! Kids younger'n you have bit the dust to this apocalypse and you're just sitting in your house, chilling. That's pretty bad-butt."

"Well, I won't disagree with such flattering words. Thank you, Mr...?"

"Just call me Negan, sweetheart. You can call all these gentleman Negan as well. Now, I'm sorry to just barge in here so late at night, but I happen to be looking for three people that owe me an apology. One has a face that only a mother could love, greasy stringy hair, I don't know why he doesn't wash it. The other's a woman with only one foot, stands around like a flamingo, but the rest of her is perfection. And the last one acts like an angel, has this innocent face, but don't let her fool you. She is the most dangerous out of all of 'em. If you've seen them, I'd love for you to kindly point me in the direction these miscreants went. Then we will be on our way."

The woman gives a convincing shake of her head. "I'm sorry. I haven't seen anyone here since our town was bombed. It just my husband and I, I'm afraid."

Negan smiles and laughs. "I've just got piss-poor luck lately... Maybe I'm going a little kooky, but my men thought for sure they'd seen a car take off from this house. I've got a few men trailing it now, but I just wanted to confirm my suspicions. Are my men crazy? Did they see a phantom car out there? Were they lying to me?"

Jung's hands tighten around her teacup. She shakes her head.

"I sold my electric car years ago. Neither my husband nor I can drive anymore, so we didn't need it. Perhaps it was someone driving through. We get a lot of drive by traffic."

Negan eyes her, tongue in cheek, then turns to his men.

"So you guys thought you saw it leaving from this house, but why in the heck would a lady this old have a vehicle? Are you telling me we stormed in here, bothering this sweet granny for nothing?"

Negan shoots one of his men in the head, causing Jung to drop her teacup and scream.

Downstairs, Bree readies her own gun and squeezes her eyes shut, asking for forgiveness for involving this woman in her affairs and for the couple to be protected. Sung begins wailing again, calling for his wife.

Negan wipes the blood from his face and turns to give Jung a pleasant smile. "I do apologize, ma'am. I bet it's awfully hard to get blood out of carpet. Would it be too much of a bother for us to search around? Just to make me feel better about killing one of my men."

Jung cowers away from Negan, who says he'll take that as a yes. He hears the husband wailing downstairs and decides to make his way down there while his men search upstairs. Whistling, Negan approaches Sung's bed. Bree makes herself as small as possible and her breathing shallow as she recognizes that whistling and those boots. His bat comes to rest by his feet.

"Buddy, you don't look so good," Negan tells the man. "You're lucky you have a sweet wife to look out for you."

"Jung is my everything," he rasps out. "Camellias ... her favorite."

"Do tell," Negan grins. "Sounds like she's a keeper. Don't know half of my wives' favorite anythings. Heck, they don't know my anythings, either."

"...Why so many?"

"Cause having so many women is pretty freaking amazing, old man."

"All I have is one... But she's ...more than enough."

"Think I messed my chance up with that one a long time ago."

After looking lost in his thoughts, he looks around the room half-heartedly, regretting shaking up the nice grandma. Jung comes downstairs, watching the bat-wielding man warily.

"I'm sorry for imposing on you, ma'am. It's clear to me that you don't know what's happening here. You and your husband stay safe. And if you ever want to move somewhere a bit less lonely, ask around for Negan. I'll get you taken care of."

Negan and his men leave. Bree comes out once she's sure they're gone and apologizes profusely, but Jung says she needed the help. She warns her to get as far as she can from that man. She also tells her to keep trusting God, it will be okay.

Bree steals away into the woods, back on her own again. She realizes it's too dangerous to follow the truck as Negan was trailing it, so it's back into the wilderness again.

Song – Run Baby Run by The Rigs

She can't start fires with Negan so nearby, so no warmth or heated food for her. She eats what she has of her canned food but has to resolve to eating berries and raw fish when she can.

The cold weather has her hunkering down in whatever shelter she can find: burrows, abandoned cars, gas stations. She passes by stretches of road with walkers shuffling about, but she's good at staying out of sight. She walks by a street sign that has addresses and names nailed or stuck to it. Some of the names are crossed out. A boat on the river is filled with the undead. They screech at her as she pulls herself past them, pity and fear making her keep her distance.

Four days pass like this.

In the woods, her vision begins to get hazy. Light-headed and weak, she decides to rest a while. She's taken to talking to herself again, mentioning the weather, what day it is, how she feels, and reads the books she brought along to keep her calm and sane. She shakes her head angrily at the Prophet, thinking of Dwight and Sherry, but decides to read it.

"You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts," she reads aloud. "That ... explains everything."

She gets up to move again, but she stumbles. Suddenly, the ground beneath her lifts up and she finds herself caught up in a net, dangling from a large branch.

Her first thought is to panic and call for help, but she quickly comes to her senses and reaches for her kitchen knife instead. Her motions are precise and fast as she begins working at the sturdy twine.

Someone chuckles from below her. "Looky what I caught here! Is that a monkey up there in my net?"

Bree twists around and finds no one other than Merle grinning at up her.

"What kind of trouble you been up to, little monkey?"