Emma spent the night watching Fox sleep. It surprised her how easily the woman was able to fall asleep in front of a stranger. Then Simon had crawled onto the couch next to her. He watched Emma intently, protecting his charge. No wonder she was able to sleep. Her dog would have eaten Emma alive if he thought she was going to hurt her.

It was early in the morning by the time Emma had fallen asleep. It was unintentional and she awoke with a jolt several hours later. Fox was nowhere to be seen, but Simon was curled up on the couch watching her. Emma couldn't help but giggle at him. "If Regina was here, you'd be in big trouble."

He lifted his head up and blinked at her. The shepherd didn't seem as threatening as he had before. His eyes had softened and when she spoke to him his ears perked up and he tilted his head.

She got up, stretched, and made her way up to her bedroom. Simon followed. They walked in and Emma opened up her closet. A good portion of Regina's cloths were gone, as was a sweatshirt or two of Emma's. Simon sat in the doorway as she changed into jeans, a sweatshirt, and a jack.

Emma's next stop was Regina's office. Simon followed. She walked to the door, expecting it to be unlocked. The handle stuck. "Really?" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys, sliding an old skeleton key into the lock. The door opened with. Simon sat in the doorway as she drifted around the room. She sat at her wife's chair, leaning into it and closing her eyes.

When her eyes opened and she focused on the papers on Regina's desk. There was a map laid out over the wood with a post-it note and a walkie-talkie on it. She leaned forward and read the post-it aloud, "Emma, we could not stay any longer. We are heading south along the coast to Portland. We'll be waiting for you. Love, Regina." Portland was circled with the words: channel number four, eight A.M., written in cursive.

Emma lit up. Regina had left Storybrooke alive. She was still out there. She was still alive! Emma rolled the map up and took the walkie-talkie. She walked up to Simon and hesitated. He bounced backwards, allowing her to pass him into the hallway and followed her down stairs.

She stuffed the map and walkie-talkie into her saddle bag before making her way out to the porch. Emma grabbed a few pieces of jerky from the bag where they had piled it all and looked out into the yard as she chewed. What they couldn't use of the moose had been dragged out of the backyard. She guessed Fox had laid out for the zombies, feral dogs, or coyotes to munch on. There hadn't been much left. Fox had been able to salt cure some of the big pieces and wrapped them in paper.

Emma's two horses were munching on the grass by the apple tree, along side a mule she recognized form Storybrooke's barn. He was big and ugly with his long rounded nose and giant ears. He made a sickening sound that sounded like a dying whale whenever someone walked into the barn. She figured Fox had used one of the horses that had been left behind to drag the moose into the backyard, but she didn't expect that horse to be the mule.

Her eyes travelled from the mule to Fox as she sat in the middle of the yard. She was busy with the moose skin. She had dragged a twenty gallon plastic tub into the backyard and had filled it with a concoction of water, vinegar, and salt. Simon had taken up a position next to Fox as she stirred the mixture and dragged the pelt into the liquid.

"Isn't that a waste of water?" Emma called.

Fox looked back at her, "I'd rather stay warm in the winter."

Emma watched as Fox finished up with the skin and moved onto the moose's head. It had already begun to rot in the spring sun and smelled awful. It was a scent both women knew well. Both had seen their share of dead bodies. Most of them still moving about.

Fox started peeling the flesh off, revealing the moose's thick skull. Emma watched her as she worked for a few minutes before she said, "I found out where they are heading." Fox didn't look up from her work, but she gave her a small nod to show she was listening. "I found a map in Regina's office with a note. Portland was circled on the map."

Fox stopped. She looked up at Emma and shook her head, "Don't go there."

Emma tilted her head like a confused puppy, "Why?"

"I heard Portland fell a long time before it all hit us." Fox stared at her for a moment, "I met a few people who had come from that way. They said the city belonged to the dead." She blinked and went back to focusing on her skull, "If you wife was smart enough to stay on the outskirts of the city or in one of the surrounding towns or villages or even the forests...I bet there fine." Emma could tell Fox didn't believe her own words. False hope, that's all it was. Both women knew that. Both women had survived for some time off of false hopes. Although, Emma was beginning to think Fox had given up on hope.

"I was thinking I'd leave tomorrow."

Fox paused for a moment, "Would you mind if I came with you?"

"Could use the company." Emma gave her a soft smile.

"Why don't we wait then. A few days I mean. So you can get your strength back and we can gather supplies."

Emma nodded. She watched the dirty blonde work for another couple minutes. "So, your girlfriend? What's her name?"

Fox held the moose head level with her face, looking into the sockets where it's eyes once were. "Her name was Gail." She put extra emphasis on the 'was.'

Regina sat on the hood of an old Honda, staring through a chain link fence at a few zombies as they stumbled about. There were cars lined up in rows waiting for their turn to be smashed. They were covered in rust and over grown weeds. None of them would ever move again, but the fence that guarded them provided a temporary sanctuary for the band of survivors that called the old dump home. Regina had despised the place when they had first come here, but it was beginning to feel more and more like home. There was just one thing missing, Emma.

Radio in hand. Regina looked down at the hands on her watch. It struck eight and she turned her attention to the walkie-talkie. "Are there any survivors out there? Over." She waited for a few minutes, holding the radio a few inches from her ear. "Are there any survivors in the Portland area? Over." Again she held the radio to her ear, listening for a respond.

A red head walked up beside the car. She was tall with a muscular build that was concealed behind a thick black jacket with the logo of a Canadian police department on the shoulder. Her foot steps were light enough that Regina didn't notice her until she had rounded the corner of the car. She leaned next to her against the car. "Anyone?"

Regina shook her head. She looked out the zombies again, "What if she's dead?"

"You can't afford to think that way."

She looked over at the red head, "But-"

"No. You have a son you have to take care of," the woman said, looking over at her, "She's out there somewhere and she'll find you."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" It came out a lot colder than she had meant it. "I'm sorry, Gail. That was rude."

Gail shrugged it off. "Emma and Fox are both out there, somewhere. From what you've told me of Emma, she's definitely out there. She'll find you. I just hope Fox hasn't given up. She's not the strongest." She leaned forward and rested her arms on her legs.

Regina put a hand on her friend's shoulder, "You said she's a hunter. She'll survive." She gave her a gentle squeeze. "We should go back to the camp." Regina turned the radio off and jumped off the hood of the Honda. Gail pushed off the car and followed her.