Brady Adler: 23 years old.

3rd Person POV

It takes place after the prison was destroyed.

When she woke up, Brady just lay there, trying to ignore the oncoming headache. She couldn't help but feel defeated. She had no idea where the others were, or even if they were still alive. She had never felt so alone, so helpless. And a little stupid for passing out with no cover, she was surprised nothing ate her in the middle of the night.

But she couldn't give up. Not now, not when she had come so far. She could do this, she had to. At least that's what she kept telling herself. With a determined look in her eye, Brady slowly sat up and took stock of her surroundings. She was in the middle of the forest, with no clear path or direction to follow. She wasn't even entirely sure which way she came from.

So she got up, still a little unsteady, and started walking. She kept the sun over her right shoulder so wouldn't go in circles. And as she walked, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see her friends again, or if they were all gone for good. She refused to let the thought consume her. She had to stay focused, and she had to stay alive and get out of this damn forest. And find some fricking water. The more she walked the more she noticed how dry her throat was. The tongue was the worst part as it kept sticking to the room of her mouth just begging for hydration as the midday sun beat down on her relentlessly.

Brady stumbled through the dense underbrush, her eyes scanning the trees and undergrowth for any sign of fresh water or edible plants. Honestly, she was just pleased to have not encountered any walkers yet. Or humans for that matter. In her state, she wasn't sure if she could take them on.

After what seemed like hours of trudging through the thick bush, it slowly started to thin out. Though as the forest thinned her paranoia grew. She hoped this meant she'd be out of there soon and was in desperation of finding water before nightfall. She was more sluggish than before her mind was mostly blank, maybe even a little numb. She hadn't given the prison a second thought. She shook her head slightly. She shouldn't even consider thinking about it right now.

The silence of the forest was unnerving and getting to her. The only sound she heard was the pounding of her own heart. Finally, as the sun began to set, Brady grew more and more desperate. Her hunger pangs were becoming unbearable, and she was beginning to lose hope. But just when she was about to give up, she spotted a small stream in the distance.

She sprinted towards the water, her knives clutched tightly in her hands. When she arrived, she drank deeply from the stream, feeling the cool liquid revive her strength. She didn't take the time to boil it. She had to risk it, though the stream seemed fairly clear and she drank more.

With her thirst quenched, and hunger subdued, Brady set off again, determined to find her way out of the forest. This time she'd follow the stream. She knew that she couldn't give up, no matter how lost or afraid she felt. She kept moving forward, her eyes scanning the underbrush for any sign of a path or a road. She needed food, she needed to find her friends, and she couldn't allow herself to think.

Brady finally found a small town, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else's name. It was eerily quiet, with no sign of life, but Brady knew that the undead could be lurking around any corner. She tried to remain as silent as possible as she made her way through the deserted streets, but her hunger was making her clumsy. She saw a few walkers but they were far enough away that she could sneak past them.

She stumbled across a seemingly empty house and made her way to the front door, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the lock. After a few tense moments, the door finally opened and Brady slipped inside.

The house was dark and quiet, and Brady cautiously moved from room to room, her hunting knives at the ready. She was on edge, her nerves frayed from days of constant danger and deprivation. Suddenly, she heard a shuffling noise coming from upstairs. Brady froze her heart racing and listened intently. The noise grew louder, and she could hear the unmistakable groaning of a walker.

Brady cursed silently to herself. She had been so focused on finding shelter that she had let her guard down. With a deep breath, she readied her knives and slowly made her way upstairs. The walker was in one of the bedrooms, it's back was to her. Brady crept up behind it, trying to remain as quiet as possible. But just as she was about to strike, the floorboard creaked beneath her foot.

The walker spun around, its clouded-over eyes locking onto Brady's. It let out a guttural growl and lurched forward, arms outstretched. Brady didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, her knives flashing in the darkness. The walker stumbled backward, its body twitching as Brady's knives found their mark. With one final thrust the head, the walker fell to the ground, motionless.

Breathing heavily, Brady stood there for a moment, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She searched the room for any supplies and food but found only a few saltine crackers and a half-full water bottle that didn't look the cleanest. She took it all anyways. This town must have been very picked through. She cleared the rest of the house hoping there weren't any more surprises. Exhausted and hungry, Brady settled in the second bedroom upstairs and barricaded herself, shifting the dresser to block the door. She slumped down on the floor, her back against the wall. She had to rest, had to regain her strength.

She could feel the tension in her muscles and the exhaustion in her bones, but her mind was still racing with the events of the last few days. As she lay there, she tried to close her eyes and drift off to sleep, but her thoughts kept racing. Recalling what had happened the previous days.

They were at war with the Governor and they were losing badly. Hershel was dead. Rick was getting the shit beat out of him. And Brady had no idea where everyone else was.

It was chaos. Utter chaos.

All Brady could do was slash and hack away at the dead through the open field with her knives trying to make it to Rick, the only person she saw around. But every time she took one down two more would pop up in its place. With every kill her energy was depleting, she knew she couldn't stop though. She thought about running in a different direction, she was getting swarmed though. She had to make it Rick, but he was getting farther away as the walkers forced her to go in the opposite direction. She had to make it someone, anyone. But she couldn't see anyone anymore. The escape bus was long gone at this point.

Panting, she was sweaty, she was exhausted, and she was covered in blood. She had to get beyond the fence if she wanted to live. She saw a small clearing where the walkers had thinned about, marginally. With a deep breath and little thought, she made a mad dash. Ducking, weaving, and dodging walkers as she ran. She ran past the fence. She just kept running, she ran through the forest for at least what seemed like 2 miles. She finally slowed down and collapsed in the dirt, rolling onto her back trying to catch her breath. Blood was rushing so loudly in her ear she couldn't hear anything else around her, she couldn't think clearly. She could only try and get oxygen back into her lungs.

She could hear the sound of her own ragged breaths, and the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over, slowly sliding down her nose and cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming, hot and relentless. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of despair that was settling in her chest. She thought about all that she might have lost, all that she had been through, and all the dangers that lay ahead. As she lay there, her exhaustion finally catching up with her, the tears turned into sobs, wracking her body and leaving her gasping for breath. She cried until her eyes were red and puffy until her chest ached with the effort of breathing until she was so worn out she could cry no more.

As Brady calmed down, her mind kept drifting to the group she had been with. Hershel, the wise old man who had taught her so much about living in this world. Glenn was a kind-hearted and brave fighter who had always been there for her. Carl who she'd seen grow up. Even the tough-as-nails Daryl, who had once seemed so gruff but had become like a brother to her. All of them were gone now, ripped away by the relentless tide of the undead.

It was almost too much right now. They had been her family in a way, and now she was completely alone. She thought about all the things they had been through together, the close calls and the triumphs, and it all felt so distant now. She couldn't help but feel a deep sense of loss, a sense that she would never be able to find them. Everyone probably went in every which direction after running from the prison. Or they were dead she thought morbidly.

With her thoughts still swirling she eventually passed out.