We're being watched. I know we are because the hairs on the back of my neck won't settle. I've scanned the tree line and beyond on and off for a day and a half but I can't see anything.

I thought it might have been the…people, I use the term loosely, that we spotted 4 days ago. Our senses are honed enough to know to avoid them like the proverbial plague. Bad.

But whoever is watching us hasn't approached. I don't know, maybe I'm being paranoid. In this world, can you ever be too paranoid?

"Essie?" Lawrence holds out a tin of whatever the hell it is.

"No, I'm good. You have it." I reply, trying to control the nausea that threatens.

"You must eat. Did you eat yesterday?" Lawrence looks worried; his concern isn't obscured by the glare of the late sun on his glasses.

"Yes, of course. You saw me." I hate lying to him but it's better that he doesn't know.

"Did you sleep any last night?" He scoops the tin's contents into his mouth and another wave crashes over me, I take a swig of water and it passes…for now.

"A little." Another lie.

He finishes his dinner and we settle the camp. We are heading north, we're not sure why. It just seems better than going further south.

It had taken a lot to get out of Atlanta after everything went to the bad. We'd not joined any of the convoys of refugees; we'd not gone to any of the camps. We'd survived because we didn't stay in any place for very long.

It turns out that I was quite capable; no one would have guessed that before. I had taken one of the cavalry swords from the display at the museum just before we left. I wasn't sure why at the time, they told us on the radio that the National Guard were going to contain the infection, that we should make our way to the camps, that we would be protected; I took the sword anyway. It's beautiful.

I couldn't use it properly, I had been instructed in the art of fencing as part of my 'fancy' education but I don't think the dead would have appreciated a perfectly executed neuvieme. It did mean I was comfortable holding a sword, and I'd used it everyday and I'd become good. I'd quickly learned to use a gun, a knife, anything that could crack skulls or break doors and windows. We'd scavenge for anything we needed and we saw the living less and less and the dead more and more.

We stole a car. We'd never stolen anything before. We'd been model citizens, my brother and I.

I had come to Atlanta to get to know my half-brother whom I had never spent more than a few weeks with since his mother and my father had split up over 20 years ago. He was older than me but only by 4 years. I was a product of one of my father's many dalliances; he seemed to think it was his duty as a famous artist to live the bohemian lifestyle. My mother was his model, then his lover, then his embarrassment; she died of an overdose when I was 8 in the squat where we had lived for 2 years. I had never even met my father until he and his wife came to the foster home where I had been taken after finding my mother dead, with a needle in her arm. He introduced himself as "Joe', it had been Diane who had told me who they were. She had the most beautiful American accent and she was kind but she didn't want her husband's by-blow hanging around. It was decided that I would go to my mother's sister who lived in Pitlochry, Scotland.

She was from an old aristocratic family, my mother, before she had run away to become an artist…to escape. So I was packed off and shipped up to Scotland where I lived for the next 5 years.

Compared to those years, this shit storm doesn't seem so bad.

Those little hairs just won't settle. Now the sun has gone, the feeling keeps growing. We are in a circle of trees large enough to have some view of the stars but compact. I have moved a bag to give my back some support against the tree trunk I am resting against; my back is where the pain started but now it's moved to my stomach and the fever keeps coming and going; not good.

I begin my nightly ritual of cleaning our knives; first with a rag and then sharpening using the precious whetstone I found on one of my foraging trips. I shift uncomfortably as the pain knifes through my back again. Thankfully Lawrence doesn't notice.

Something moves in the treeline and we both freeze. Ignoring the pain, I am on my feet with the machete in my hand before Lawrence has time to breathe. One of the dead shambles out of the tree line and then another one and then another; normally I can hear them and I can definitely smell them but I am slowing down; I've killed us both. Fuck.

They'd been watching the sister and brother for 2 days now. Aaron had wanted to approach them after the first day but Daryl had been more cautious, had wanted to watch them a little bit longer. Something about the sister bothered him. She was good. She had taken down 4 walkers on her own easy. She knew more than the basics of survival and he was damn sure her brother wouldn't have made it without her. He could also tell she wasn't at the top of her game; she looked sick and was getting sicker.

She had deteriorated since they had been watching them. The spying didn't sit comfortably with him but he had conceded that it was the smart choice. He was sure she had spotted them a couple of times, probably would have seen them if she hadn't been working so hard to hide how ill she was from her brother.

"What do you think?" asked Aaron.

"She's good. Not sure what he'd bring though" Daryl answered, still watching the pair settle for the night.

"I think they come as a package." said Aaron, Daryl just grunted.

"We'll approach them tomorrow morning." Aaron was about to make himself comfortable when they heard the all too familiar groans. He grabbed the binoculars and trained them back on the pair.

What he saw filled him with dread. The sister was fighting 3 walkers, the brother was struggling with another and more were coming. Before he could say anything, Daryl was running towards the clearing.

Essie felt the world flatten and grow quiet as she tuned out everything but the dead. She hacked and scythed through the centre of the mass, seemingly oblivious to the proximity of the hungry walkers. But there were too many. She managed to turn her head to see Lawrence take out one and turn to face another but it was too close, he couldn't manoeuvre his arms to stab it. She got through 2 more and managed to get to the one about to rip into her brother but felt another land on her back and knock her to the ground.

"Lawrence!" she screamed but she knew it was too late.

Then suddenly there was relief and she could breathe again as the weight was lifted off her. She heard the crunch of metal on bone and felt the wet seep through her clothes. She leapt to her feet and saw her brother staring passed her shoulder. She turned to see two strangers destroying the dead and she wasn't about to question it.

The sound returned to her world and Essie wiped the sweat out of her eyes and stepped over the corpses.

"Thank you." she said and then raised the pistol she had grabbed from the floor, "Now tell me who the fuck you are and why I shouldn't shoot you."

Daryl saw that her hands were not shaking, she was like a rock; her brother had moved behind her and was staring warily at them.

"I'm Aaron. We're not here to harm you, we've been watching you for the past few days."

"What the fuck?" even through the pain and the fog that was threatening to overwhelm her, Essie was gratified to know she wasn't paranoid. She looked up at the stars and saw how they swooped and dived.

"Oh bollocks." She said and everything went dark.

Daryl knew this could go either way; he would bring her down if he had to. It turned out that he didn't have to make the choice. He was reaching for his gun when she looked up and then dropped like a stone.

"Essie!" shouted Lawrence and knelt down by her side and looked at the 2 strangers, "help her, please?"

I wasn't sure I liked America. I liked Oxford where I lived. I liked the golden buildings, my students, my office, my house, my work. I loved lecturing on the works of Keats, Donne, Marvell. I loved my research on the Metaphysical and Romantics; all of it fucking useless now of course but it had been glorious. I'd taken up the research and lecturing post for 6 months in Atlanta to be near to Lawrence, to get to know him.

My father had 7 children but Lawrence was the only legitimate one. I don't think either of us had met all our other siblings, I was the only one with whom he had any real contact. I was the one who had been trouble. A generous pay out to the other women had been enough to keep them quiet. My mother's family didn't need money and, after the fire, they needed me out of the way.

Whilst he and Diane decided what to do with me I had stayed with them at their house in Mayfair along with Lawrence. I was passed off as a distant cousin in public; in private the staff watched me every minute, in case I did something. When I finally found my voice it was to talk to Lawrence but then the summer was over, they left and I was at boarding school deep in the Sussex countryside. We talked at little across the years; postcards, birthday cards, letters. I like him, he is kind and gentle and his life was normal. So when the post in Atlanta came through, I thought it was about time we met again.

My head gently rocks with the motion of the car, every bump is excruciating. A fence looms up through the trees and we approach the gates. How did I get in a car?

"It's a town. There's a gate and high walls" Lawrence says, "I can't see anyone about but there are bodies. Dead ones. Not moving."

He should have left me when I first got sick. I smile at his stupidity, he would walk into a slaughter house dressed like a lamb, he's like that.

I hear shouting but I can't make out the words, my fever is getting worse. Black and yellow spots are dancing in front of my eyes; the pain has stopped. That's not a good sign. I hope Lawrence lives; he deserves it. I don't think I do. I hope he finds someone to put me down when I turn, he won't be able to do it, sentimental idiot.

We pass through the gate and drive towards the buildings. I can barely keep my eyes open, I look at Lawrence, I want to see something good as I die and he is a good person. He's kept me from turning to stone and I've kept him alive. It's getting harder to breath. The breeze, slight as it is, hits my face and hands pull me out of the car. I can't stand, I can't fight, I can't see. Fuck it anyway; none of it really matters now.

"Here, drink this."

Hands hold my head and water hits my parched mouth. It's not my brother; it's a woman's voice. I open one eye. So I didn't die. I'm surprised.

"Lawrence!" she shouts, "She's awake."

Lawrence burst into the room and looked at his sister. She looked awful. She was pale and sweaty with deep circles underneath her eyes. He raised his head and offered a short prayer of thanks to anyone who might be listening. Carol put the water down and moved out of the way so he could get to the bedside. She saw the love in his eyes as he held his sister's hand.

She walked out of the room that served as a hospital ward to give them some privacy and went over to Deanna and Rick.

"She's awake." Carol sounded surprised with good reason. When the two had arrived and Pete had taken a look at the sister firstly to confirm that she wasn't bitten and then to diagnose an infection probably of the kidneys, Carol had seen Rick take out his gun in case she had turned right then.

Deanna had questioned the brother. He had told her all about his amazing sister whom he described as a cross between Wonder Woman, Mother Theresa and Bouddicca. He told her all the times she had saved him and others, how she had fought the evil living and the mindless dead, how she had gone from a university lecturer to Xena, Warrior Princess in a matter of months.

"They're good people, Essie." said Lawrence, brushing hair out of his sister's eyes.

"How do you know?" Essie croaked as Lawrence held the water up to her mouth.

"They helped you, we would have died if they hadn't found us. I'm not sure anyone slept for the first 2 days."

"2 days? How long have I been out?" Essie tried to sit up but Lawrence pushed her back down onto the bunk.

"5 days. No, no stay lying down." he said hastily as Essie brushed off his hands and raised herself up.

"5 days? Fuck."

"You weren't asleep." said a soft voice from the doorway, "you were out cold. We thought you were going to die. I don't think you would've have lasted another day."

"This is Aaron. He's one of the two who saved you." said Lawrence before his sister could say anything. Essie blew out her cheeks in frustration at Lawrence but held out her hand to the man who took it with a smile.

"Thank you." she said simply, what else could she say?

"My pleasure. Now, do you think you can get up? There are some others out here who'd like to meet you."

Essie slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and, with the help of Aaron and her brother, shakily stood up and shuffled through the doorway and out to meet the other people in this rare group.

Tara looked up and saw the woman emerge held limply between her Aaron and Lawrence. She wasn't tall and she wasn't short, she wasn't large but she wasn't skeletal either. She had long, red hair in a braid and a fringe that was too long and seemed to get in her eyes. She was wearing the de-rigeur Apocalypse outfit of a t-shirt and torn jeans. Tara couldn't place her age even though she knew the woman was 32, she looked younger. The woman looked at the assembled group from under the fringe and Tara saw her eyes for the first time. They were large, brown and almond shaped; even though they were ringed with dark circles and watching them all warily, they were…kind…no, that wasn't right. If she had found the right word in that moment it would have been compelling, the woman's eyes were compelling.

Essie walked slowly towards them still leaning heavily on her brother and Aaron and flopped down onto a chair, breathing hard.

"Thank you." she said again but this time to the whole group. Rick stepped forward and knelt down in front of the woman. She stared straight at him, waiting for him to speak. For the first time in a while he felt unsettled by another human being; she seemed to be judging him as he was judging her and he had the feeling that she knew exactly who and what he was, she had the weight and measure of him more surely than he did of her.

"I'm Rick. Your brother has told us about you but I've got 3 questions before we go any further."

"I'm Estella. After you have asked your questions, I have some of my own. If I don't like your answers you will let us go without any hassle. If you don't, you will regret it." Essie said this simply and without aggression but Rick believed every word. He nodded and they began.

He asked his questions, she didn't know how many walkers she had killed but it was more than a few; she had killed 6 humans, all of whom had been trying to kill her or her brother or someone who couldn't defend themselves. After he was satisfied with her answers, she was taken to Deanna's house, but slowly, she was still very shaky. Daryl watched from the porch. Aaron had one arm and Lawrence the other but he could tell Essie hated being helped.

"You're recording this?" Essie asked.

"For transparency. I record all of these conversations so I can review them later." Deanna replied, looking at the woman in front of her. She prided herself on being an excellent judge of character but this woman was inscrutable.

"Where do you come from?"

"England."

"Why are you here?"

"Well that's a complicated question. Do you mean why am I here in America or why am I here when so many others are not?"

"Both I suppose."

So Essie talked and Deanna listened. She knew she wasn't getting the full story; she learned the basics of Essie's story but there was more. She asked questions designed to make people open up or, if you were of a suspicious disposition, to reveal more than they intended. But nothing would make Essie crack. Her brother hadn't held anything back but it appeared to Deanna that there were some things that even he didn't know.

By the time they had finished, Deanna felt like she had passed a test she didn't know she was taking.

Essie was introduced to everyone and she did her best to remember their names. Only after all introductions had been made and hands had been shook did Daryl relax his grip on the knife in his belt. He knew danger when he saw it and this woman was dangerous, now he just had to figure out if she was a danger to them.

She took out a battered and precious packet of cigarettes and lit one with not a little ceremony. Only in emergencies, but she decided that this new situation qualified as an emergency. She sucked the smoke in and blew it out into the indigo sky and watched it whisper away. With the darkness and the silence it was almost peaceful. Almost.

She blew out more smoke and wondered for the hundredth time that day how she had got to this point. What would it have been like if she'd stayed in England? Had this even happened in England? She supposed it must have or there would have been contact, surely? She thought about the people she had left behind, at home. The old and crusty academics locked in their studies reading texts written by the long dead; would they have even noticed the world had ended? She thought about her students, lively and looking to the future, all gone in one way or another. Her friends, had some made it? She hoped so but she also knew her thoughts were pointless. It was a new world; she was a new person. But she also knew she didn't want to be on her own anymore. Lawrence needed someone other than her and she needed someone other than him. If they were going to survive in this new world, they needed to be with others.

She and Lawrence had been allocated a house. A woman had come by with a box of supplies and then she and Lawrence had done the one thing they had dreamt of and talked about every night they had been outside. There were even 2 bathrooms. She had scrubbed and scrubbed until there was not a speck of dirt left and then she had just stood under the warm water. It felt like the water had stripped everything away and, for a moment, the world had seemed a little more unfucked.

She put on the fresh clothes that had been folded in with the supplies, who still folded clothes? And, with her hair still drying, had wandered out onto the front porch and sat on the steps. It was so quiet but this time the quiet was no more dangerous that the noise. She closed her eyes and thought about nothing for the first time in months.

The light in the kitchen, their kitchen (for now) came on and she knew Lawrence had finished in the bathroom but she wanted a few more moments alone. She looked across at the opposite house and noticed the glow of another cigarette; someone was watching her. She squinted into the shadows but couldn't make out who it was. Well, if they tried to mess with her or her brother they wouldn't live to regret it. She took one last drag of the cigarette, ground the butt out on the step and went inside to eat.

Daryl watched from the other side of the street, shrouded in shadow. He saw Essie and her brother in the kitchen. It appeared they were playing music as they prepared their food; strains of an old Nina Simone song reached him. Lawrence pretended to play the piano on the kitchen counter and Essie pretended to sing into a wooden spoon. He stubbed out his cigarette on the wooden balustrade and walked towards Deanna's house to discuss if the brother and sister should stay; he didn't know.

Aaron stared at Deanna from across the table.

"I think they would be a benefit to Alexandria." he said firmly.

"I don't know Aaron. Lawrence is like a babe in the wood but Essie is…I don't know what Essie is. She's hiding something from me. I don't like that." Deanna replied.

"You said that even with the kidney infection, she took out walkers?" asked Rick to Daryl.

"Yeah. She was good. She's tough. She nearly spotted us a couple of times in the woods." he replied.

"But she's reckless. You said that she knew she was sick but hid it from her brother. She waded into a group of…them without regard for herself. They could have just run but she stayed to fight." Deanna argued.

"She was trying to save her brother. I hope that someone would do the same for me." Aaron replied.

"What do you think, Mr Dixon?" asked Deanna.

"She'd be useful." he said, simply.

Deanna took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "They can stay, for a trial period. Rick, I want you to keep a close eye on them. I still don't trust her. What part would she play here? I can't see her working in the pantry or the kitchen. I certainly wouldn't give her the run of the gun store."

Aaron sighed "I don't know what she'd do here either but I know she'd be useful. I…I kind of like her."

"So what do you think? " asked Essie as Lawrence cleaned the kitchen surface.

"I think they're good people."

"But why?" Essie pushed.

"They took us in without any real questions. Daryl carried you for nearly 2 miles, over open country to get back to their car, after you passed out."

"Daryl? He doesn't look like he could carry a tune let alone a full grown and hefty woman!" She said, genuinely surprised, "he wears an anorak for Christ's sake!"

"No! That's Aaron. Daryl is the other one. Dirty, scowling, quiet, muscled, tousled hair." Answered Lawrence.

Essie raised her eyebrow and looked sideways at her brother.

"Muscled? Tousled hair? You've been looking hard."

Lawrence shrugged and then grinned "hey! I'm not dead! Anyway, I don't think he's on my team." And he sighed. Essie smiled too, it felt so good to have a normal conversation.

"So setting aside that for a moment, do you think we should give them a chance?" She asked.

"Yes I do. It's the best option we've had yet."

"Hmmm. This all seems too good to be true but we'll hope for the best and expect the worst." Essie said, echoing the Kirk family's unofficial motto.

The sun was already up by the time Essie and Lawrence emerged. Rick crossed the road and saw immediately how she tensed up.

"Hey." Rick shaded his eyes from the sun, "How are you with guns? Do you know how to use them?"

"Everything but a rocket launcher." she replied.

"Ok, I'm going to need you to prove it."

Essie raised her eyebrows but said nothing and followed him out of the gate into the woods. She could understand why he would need to see it; she wouldn't want to be in a fight with someone who couldn't be relied on. She also needed to figure him out and this would be an excellent way.

He'd laid out a selection of weapons on a makeshift table and had set up targets of varying sizes.

"I need to see you load, fire and then make safe each of these."

"Very well." Rick watched Essie select a small calibre pistol. She loaded it, sighted and fired hitting the medium sized can 12 yards away. It soon became clear she was a good shot. She hit every target with every weapon.

"Ok I'm going to make it difficult. You up for it?" he asked Essie.

"Of course." he picked up the smallest bottle of clear glass, tied string round the neck and walked towards the farthest metal post a good 300 yards away.

Rick set the bottle swinging and ran back to the table. Essie took in a breath, felt the world fade and focussed on the bottle so far away. She breathed out slowly, squeezing the trigger. The bottle shattered.

"What did you say you did before?" asked Rick as she began to strip the gun.

"I was a lecturer of Literature. Mostly 17th and 18th century poetry." she replied.

"So not much field weapon training then?"

"I'd never held a gun before. But adversity is the mother of invention. Well that, and a powerful need not to get eaten." She smiled at him from under her fringe and for a moment the sun came out, he was taken aback by the change but then the smile was gone.

They packed away the weapons and made their way back; it was time to eat. They passed a barn and heard the familiar growls of the dead. Both had their guns trained on the sound; 4 of them came out of the barn and began to make their way over to Essie and Rick. She quickly swapped her pistol for a knife and they waited for the dead to get near.

Rick took 1 and Essie got 2 before he could turn around. He got the last one and saw that she was already wiping her knife on the grass. She would be useful.

They began to walk back, neither of them saying anything; Rick on the nearside next to the dense verge of undergrowth, Essie a few steps behind. Neither of them heard the fifth walker until it had grabbed Rick and dragged him down. This one was newer than the others, it was stronger, hungrier. It landed on top of him, not giving him a chance to get to his knife. He forced his arm under its chin but couldn't get any further. Essie moved to stab it but another equally strong walker emerged. Its arms were outstretched and it was moving quickly. Essie had a choice, she could take down this second walker that was a direct threat to her but that would leave Rick trapped by the other one; or she could spend precious seconds killing the one pinning Rick to the road and leave herself open to an attack. She could smell the second walker getting too close.

She didn't blink; she grabbed the walker that had Rick, pulled its head back and rammed her knife into its skull, she flung it to the side as she felt the other grab the back of her shirt. She looked into Rick's eyes twisted to the side and trusted that his aim was as good as hers. She felt the bullet as it went past her and felt the impact as it blew through the walker's head. She nodded her thanks to Rick, who did the same. She stretched out her arm and helped him up.

She didn't mention the "W" carved on its forehead. She didn't want to have that conversation yet.

The gates closed behind them and they went into their respective houses. Daryl looked up and saw Rick covered in gore.

"She stays." said Rick.

Daryl nodded and looked out of the window across the road. The light was on in the kitchen and he saw Essie strip off her stained shirt and run the tap. As she began to wipe down her arms and across her chest, he looked away.

Essie turned the light off in the bedroom she had chosen. It was cool and clean and comfortable. She lay on the bed and closed her eyes. She couldn't hear anything but the night sounds. She lay like that for about 20 minutes; she was exhausted but she couldn't sleep.

She got a pillow and blanket, shoved them under the bed, pulled herself under, made herself comfortable and was asleep within minutes but it was not a restful sleep. For the first night in months she dreamed of her past.

The walls were high and wide; the houses were like something out of a magazine. She began to walk faster trying to see a way out of this place; then she was running, as fast as she could. She was running blindly through the gaps in the houses, down the road, over the front gardens. She couldn't stop; she tripped over a kid's toy but picked herself up and kept on running. Her lungs were burning but her legs didn't stop. The spindly trees whipped her and her eyes were stung with sweat but she didn't stop, couldn't stop. The only sound was her ragged breathing and the blood surging in her ears; she came to a central area with a pond and a bridge. She didn't see any of it she just kept going. Someone grabbed the back of her shirt.

"Hey!" a voice said, "Hey!"

She only registered that someone had got her so she fought back. She rammed her elbow into their stomach and landed on top of them and then she was slamming her fists into their body but they still didn't let go. She felt for her knife but it wasn't there so she kept on hitting. They protected themselves as best they could, blocking her blows, but she landed hit after hit and then she was punching thin air as she was lifted bodily off them. She twisted and yelled and kicked out but they wouldn't let go, they held her.

Others, disturbed by the noise, had come out to see what was happening. Rick heaved himself up off the ground where he had landed after Essie had elbowed him. He saw Daryl fighting to keep his hold on her as she viciously twisted and fought him. Lawrence ran down the road and pushed through the crowd, calling out to her but she didn't hear him. Rick had seen this before, with criminals too wasted to know what they were doing and with animals caught in traps. He knew she would gnaw her own arm off to get away.

She threw her head back and Daryl dropped her but still kept hold of one arm; she grabbed him round the throat with her other hand and began to squeeze. Rick knew she would kill his friend if he didn't stop her but that would mean using excessive force, fortunately the choice was made for him.

"Let her go!" Carol's voice cut through the screaming and shouting. Daryl looked at her and then let Essie's arm go. She fell backwards, scrabbled to her feet and ran. Rick went to go after her.

"No!" said Carol, "Leave her alone."

"She nearly killed Rick." shouted Daryl.

Carol moved to stand in front of him.

"Leave her alone." she said again, softly.

"Why?" he asked, confused at her reaction.

"Didn't you see the scars?"

Essie went back to the only place she knew. She pulled open the front door of the house, scrabbled up the stairs, crawled under the bed, pulled the blanket over her head and blocked everything out.

She closed her eyes but she couldn't stop the memories from coming; the years of fear and hunger and desperation for freedom. The sound of her aunt's shoes on the stone floor reared up and then was gone again; the times when she had fought back and, worse, the times when she hadn't; the taste of blood in her mouth; the smell of her scorched skin from the poker taken straight from the fire; the blackness of the cellar and the light that blinded her when the door was finally opened, the day she had finally had enough, when she had been old enough to fight back. She thought she could smell burning but it was just a memory, like the screaming. All of this came in on wave after wave and Essie could do nothing but go where they took her; to the places she prayed she would never go back to; the places where she had learned who she truly was. She tried to keep from screaming and screaming but it was too loud. Outside of the room nothing could be heard but the wind and the creaking of a porch swing.

People began to disperse but a few remained. Lawrence went to go but Daryl stopped him.

"What happened?" asked Deanna

"I was taking a walk and I saw her running. I called out to her and when she didn't respond, I stopped her." said Rick, rolling his shoulder trying to stop the ache from where he'd caught a blow.

Lawrence shook Daryl off and stared at them, a terrified look on his face.

"Why did this happen?" asked Deanna to him.

"I…I don't know." he looked at the floor.

"We can't have that happen again. This place needs to be safe. I don't want everyone else to be scared" she said.

"It won't happen again." said Lawrence quickly.

"But you can't guarantee that." she said.

"I'll speak to her." Everyone turned to look at Carol.

"I'm not sure speaking to her is going to be enough." Carol bit her tongue at Deanna's patronising tone.

"Let me try. You never know, I might be able to get through to her."

"Ok but if it happens again, we need to rethink the situation." said Deanna, with a true politician's spin.

Carol walked back to their house with Rick and Daryl.

"What did you see?" asked Rick.

"Her back was covered in scars. Most of them looked like burns. I saw them when she was struggling."

"Did they look new? Like they'd happened since this all began?" Rick asked.

"No. They looked older, as if they'd happened when she was a much younger, maybe a child." Carol answered.

Daryl looked away and his fingers flickered.

"Where do we go from here?" asked Rick.

"I'll speak to her like I said. She needs to know that she can't lose it like that." said Carol.