We all jerk upright, pointing weapons into the darkness. "Where are you?" Jace calls, easing back to stand with Maia and me. "Show yourself."

"I can't," the voice replies. "The boar… my leg… I need help please."

I peer into the forest, tracking the voice by sound, trying to pinpoint its location in the darkness. "There," I mutter to Jace, pointing to a vague shape through the trees. A person is huddled at the trunk of a large oak, hidden among the needles. His voice sounds like fear and pain, and I know we have to help him.

As if reading my mind Jordan whispers to us. "We have to help this guy, he's clearly hurt." We all nod in agreement and approach the tree cautiously, weapons still out and ready. The dark shape comes into focus; an old man – maybe 50 or 60- with a short, grey beard and dirty blue overalls. He watches us with glazed eyes, his jaw clenched in a grimace of pain.

"The pig?" he whispers.

"It's gone, its dead," Jace answers him. "Don't worry you don't have to be frightened of us, we are here to help you."

"Thank god." The man slumps against the bark in relief, his face a mask of hope and pain. "Damn pig caught me off guard; I'd be dead if you hadn't come along."

"Do you have a safe place to go?" Jordan asks, kneeling beside him. He nods.

"There are several of us living in a compound about two miles west of here." He pointed with a blood-stained hand and Jordan stood.

"All right," Jace says. "Maia, go back to the others. Tell Valentine what's happened. Warn them that there are probably walkers around as he's probably attracted all of the dead in a ten mile radius. Jordan go with her, keep an eye out for walkers. Clary," he continues, nodding to the injured man, "help me get him home."

I frown, my logical mind questioning why I, the smallest in the group, have been chosen to help practically lift an injured man who is twice my weight and almost twice my height. Jace, misreading my frown of hesitation for one of unwillingness, steps towards me.

"We have to help him Clary. We can't leave him here." He says earnestly. "That wound looks deep, and he's lost a lot of blood."

"I know." I practically snap. "So why am I helping you. I'm far too small for him, I'm too weak, and I'll be too slow." I stare desperately at Jordan and Maia's retreating backs, wishing one of them could help instead. Feeling useless I look down at my feet, my face goes red with embarrassment.

"Clary," Jace says, steeping towards me. "You are more than capable. I've seen what you can do! If you are as weak as you say you are then you wouldn't have been able to survive so long on your own. You severed the boars head clean of for goodness sake! Please, we are running out of time, do this for me." A voice in my head reminds me of how mad I was at him and I think: if he knew what happened, if he knew what you did to Luke and Simon, he would know how weak you truly are. I ignore the voice with a swallow and focus on the task at hand. This man needs us.

"Okay," I say, my voice shaky. "How are we gunna do this?"

Jace bends to help the wounded man, shouldering half of his weight and lifting him to his feet. The wounded man gasps and leans on the younger man, keeping his weight of his hurt leg. I rush to the man's other side and help by shouldering some of his weight.

"Thanks for this," the man pants as we begin the agonizingly slow hobble into the dark woods. "The names Starkweather- Hodge Starkweather. My family owns these lands, or at least, they did back before the plague."

"What were you doing so far from home, Mr. Starkweather?" Jace asks, gritting his teeth as the man stumbles. I brace myself, keeping all of us upright. "Especially so late, when the walkers are around?"

Hodge Starkweather manages a short, embarrassed laugh. "My damn bird got through the fence," he admits, shaking his head. "I keep it in a fenced cage in the daytime. I had it a long time so, when it found a way out, I had to follow. I didn't mean to be out so late, but it got darker quicker than I expected."

"You're lucky to be alive," Jace mutters. "If that pig had bitten you a few times instead of just gouging your leg, you'd have much more to worry about than just finding a bird."

I feel him go very still under my arm. "Yeah," he mumbles, not looking at us. "It was a lucky thing."

Miraculously, despite the obvious trail of blood and scent of gore in the air, we have managed to avoid any sudden walker attacks. Breaking free of the trees, we find ourselves at the edge of a large clearing, encircled with a barbed-wire fence. The remnants of a barn and rusting tractor sit within it.

In the middle of the clearing, a wall of corrugated metal, wood and cement surrounds a low hill. Bonfires have been set a few feet from the perimeter, lighting the darkness with heat and smoke, and I can see lights and other structures behind the wall.

We ease Hodge through the barbed wire, taking care with his leg, and start across the clearing. Halfway across, a shout comes from somewhere up ahead, and someone up ahead shines a light in my eyes. Hodge waves shouts back, waving his arms, and the light disappears. A few minutes later a rusty groan can be heard and a gate opens and two people, a man and a woman, rush towards us.

I tense, out of habit, that and because the man is carrying a loaded rifle, though it isn't pointed at us. The man is lanky and raw-boned, but it is the woman I pay the most attention to. Her brown hair is in a ponytail, and though she doesn't look very old, a few grey strands poke out from the sides. She might have been pretty once, but now her face is creased with lines, her mouth pinched and severe. And her eyes tell me that, without a doubt, she is the person in charge.

"Hodge!" cries the woman, flinging herself at us. "Oh thank goodness! We thought you were dead." And despite her words, she looks as if she wants to slap him. "What were you doing, going into the forest on your own, you great damn fool? Never mind! I'm just glad you're alive." She fixes her familiar deep blue eyes on me and I can't help but feel a sense of Deja-vu. "I see we have these people to thank for that."

"Be nice to them, Amatis," The old man gasps, making a feeble attempt to smile. "They saved my life. Killed a rabid pig that had been bitten by walkers without batting an eyelash."

"Did they now?" Amatis asks, her eyes searching us coolly, as Hodge is taken from us by the man and helped into the compound. "You don't say." Her sharp no-nonsense gaze fixes on us. "My name is Amatis," she says briskly, "and anyone who helps one of us is welcome here. Besides, you look like you need some patching up," she says, glancing at the graze that the boar left on my leg.

"Thank you," I say solemnly. "I'm Clary, and that's Jace."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you." The woman says, her eyes looking us up and down. I start to feel uncomfortable when they linger a little too long on my face. "How old are you anyway- gods your young- seventeen? Eighteen?"

"About that." Jace replies.

"Well you are extremely lucky, travelling through the forest alone without running into those demons. Better keep each other safe, they can be quite the menace round these parts."

Menace, I think. Like raccoons and rodents are menaces? A rabid boar nearly took a man's leg off.

"What are you doing around here anyway?" she asks us.

"Well actually, we were hunting, our group needs to eat." Jace says, tone business like but not cold.

"There are more of you? Well goodness, they can't stay out there at night! Larry, David!" She calls, beckoning two men down to the gate. "There are more people in the woods," she announces sternly as the men scramble out, each carrying a rifle. "As soon as the sun comes out, find them and bring them here. Where did you say your group was?"

Jace looks reluctant, unwilling to give up the location of the others or hesitant to accept help from complete strangers. But I glance to the sky and see it beginning to lighten, and my nerves jangle a warning that we can't protect them right now.

"About three miles south from here," I say, ignoring Jace's frown at me. I meet Amatis' worried gaze. "There's about a dozen more out there, though half of them are kids. You might want to convince the leader though, he can be stubborn."

"Well, what are you two waiting for?" she scowls at the two men, who immediately scurry back into the compound. "Now," Amatis smiles at us, though her face looks as if she hadn't done it in a while. "I'm sure you two are exhausted. I'll show you where you can rest, and if you can wait and hour or two, breakfast will be ready." She blinks, as if something just occurred to her. "Oh, goodness, I guess I should go help Martha with the food this morning, shouldn't I? We are going to have a lot of guests. This way, if you would."

"Why did you do that?" Jace whispers as we follow the tall, slim woman into the compound. "These people don't need more mouths to feed. Also, how do we know we can trust them?"

"I'm tired, Jace." I don't look at him as I say it. "It's nearly morning, and we've had no sleep. I'm hungry, I'm covered in blood- both my own and someone else's, and I really don't want to go back into the woods again, and for once I would like to sleep in a bed, instead of the cold, hard ground. I'm sorry if I'm being selfish but I don't think these people are a threat. I feel like we can trust Amatis." I think about the familiarity of her eyes, and the shape of her cheekbones, and her rough voice. "first sign of trouble and I promise, I will do whatever I can to get us out of here, but for now, let's at least have breakfast."

I smile weakly at him and he sighs, raking his fingers through his golden hair. "Valentine isn't going to like this," he mutters, shaking his head.

"Why am I not surprised?"