Clementine stared down impatiently at the creek. She had been sitting on this bridge for so long her legs were falling asleep. Taking one hand off her fishing rod, she wiped the sweat from her face before briefly glancing up at the sky. The sun had been bearing down on her all morning without so much as a single cloud interrupting its smothering glare. All though she hadn't been keeping track of the exact date like Sarah had, Clem could tell they were well into the summer months just from the sweltering heat.

Swatting at a fly so small she couldn't see it but loud enough she could never ignore it when it circled around her head, Clem discovered yet another reason to why she hadn't thought to go fishing before today. Hours of waiting and watching in the hot sun only broken up by occasionally reeling in her line to make sure her bait hadn't fallen off was as tedious as it was tiresome. Picking up the baby monitor, Clem hoped to hear Omid whimpering for assistance just so she'd have an excuse to stop.

Omid was silent, probably still asleep, and Clem sighed as she realized she had nothing better to do but keep fishing. With Sarah going out for food every day, Clem had grown restless again. There was only so long she could remain in bed before the boredom became greater than her many lingering pains. But there were no chores that needed doing that she hadn't already done, and Omid had become quiet and withdrawn since his trauma, leaving Clem to suffer in silence until Sarah returned.

Even today, with Sarah parking the Brave on this small bridge running over an even smaller creek so Clem could fish, she could barely stand the monotony in-between the bouts of anxiety she felt waiting out in the open like she was. The grassy fields of the mid-west had become less green the closer they moved to the actual west, as if the land was going bald and its dirt scalp was beginning to show. This creek and its surrounding trees were the only signs of life for miles, and even they so far had offered little beyond occasional flies.

Ever since Sarah took them off the interstate to reduce the risk of any more chance encounters, it felt like whatever minuscule progress they may have been making to a possible destination had vanished. Just on the drive here this morning, Clem saw a sign that read 'Welcome to Wauneta - Half-way between here and there.' Clem didn't know where here or there was. She wasn't even sure what state they were in right now. All she knew is she felt utterly lost, with no idea where to go, what to do, or how. Looking down at the creek, she didn't even know how much longer they could continue eating.

Ready to admit defeat, Clem stood up and started to reel in her line. It was then she heard a rustling near the tree past the edge of the bridge. It was faint but might as well been a clap of thunder compared to the total silence Clem had listened to all morning. She dropped her fishing rod and immediately pulled her gun, her hands shaking so bad she could barely aim it. Clem felt her heart pounding against the side of her chest as she listened for signs of her attacker, and when she didn't hear them she started inching towards the Brave's door as quietly as she could. She had nearly made it when something burst out from behind the tree.

Clem pulled the trigger and a bullet struck the trunk of the tree just as a squirrel went scampering away from it. It scurried across the road and up the next nearest tree. Clem eased her finger off the trigger, but she didn't relax. She kept listening, knowing there may have been something else making that noise instead. After a few seconds of silence, Clem spun around in anticipation, the image of someone about to bash her across the back of her head flashing through her mind; there was nothing. Clem lowered her gun, taking deep breaths to ease her panic, and that's when she heard a voice in her ear.

"Clem?"

Clementine nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard Sarah's voice. She spun around in confusion for a second until she heard the familiar crackle of static.

"Clem, are you there?" asked Sarah over the radio.

"Yeah," Clem answered hastily. "I… I'm here. Are you okay?"

"I…" Clem could hear Sarah's panic just from her utterance of a single word. "I just heard a gunshot," reported Sarah, her voice dripping with terror. "It was distant, but it sounded like it came from the same direction as the Brave and—"

"It was me," said Clem, breathing a sigh of relief between words. "That was me."

"You? Are you all right? What—"

"It was a squirrel," grumbled Clem. "It just scared me, but…" Clem stopped as she took one last look around, still paranoid something was watching her. "But I'm okay."

"That's good," said Sarah. "I'm on my way back. Once I get there we'll move the Brave, just in case anyone else was close enough to hear the shot."

"Okay, see you in a minute." Clem put her radio back on her belt and then, reluctantly, place her gun back in its holster. She was about to go back in when she heard something else, something very familiar, almost like a weird buzzing sound. Turning around, she saw her fishing rod lying against the bridge's guardrail, its reel spinning wildly out of control.

"Oh shit!" Clem hurried over and grabbed the rod with both hands just before it was yanked over the bridge. Reeling in her catch, Clem's wrist went from sore to aching to burning in a matter of seconds. The fish had unspooled the entire line before Clem had noticed and even though it wasn't putting up much resistance, every twist of the reel was more painful than the last and it wasn't long until it became unbearable.

Letting go of the reel, it started unspooling immediately as Clem grabbed the rod with her injured hand then awkwardly crossed over her good one to stop the fish from escaping. Swapping hands didn't do much to reduce the pain, and having to turn the reel with her left hand on a fishing rod built for a right hand was awkward and slow, prolonging the searing agony in Clem's wrist as she desperately fought against her catch.

Finally, after what felt like an entire ten minutes of reeling in the same catch while her wrist was on fire, Clem watched as a fish burst out of the water and was pulled out of the creek. Wriggling defiantly as Clem pulled it in, she saw it was a small fish. In fact, it was probably one of the smallest she remembered catching actually, but it was a real live fish. Wasting no time angling the fish past the guardrail, Clem set the fish on the pavement and pulled her knife. As she felt it trying to struggle in her hand, Clem caught sight of its eye and sighed.

"I'm sorry." She cleaved the fish's head off with a quick and decisive slice. Standing up, Clem found herself unable to look away from the dead fish's gaze. She could swear she could see its mouth opening and closing a few times before its severed head became still, and even afterwards that dead eye felt like it was peering into her soul. Clem turned away in a hurry and carried the carcass and her rod back into the Brave. Hastily putting away her equipment and placing the unprepared fish in the sink, Clem hurried into the bedroom, fearful the gunshot had frightened Omid.

But Omid was still asleep under his covers, like he so often was lately. Since his trauma, it had been like all his curiosity and spirit had been sucked away, leaving a frightened shell of a child to lie in Omid's bed day after day. It disturbed Clem to no end, how quiet the RV was nowadays. The simple joy of hearing Omid laugh, that one thing that helped to stave off the horror so relentlessly seeping into their meager shelter against the rest of the world had been taken from them. All that remained was a deafening silence where there had once been a shred of happiness, and the slight grimace on Omid's sleeping face that served as a constant reminder of the terror they had all witnessed.

After making sure the baby monitors were on and working, Clem returned to the front. Scaling and gutting a fish with an injured hand wasn't as bad as reeling it in, but it still hurt. As did using a frying pan and the numerous utensils she needed to cook the fish. But no amount of pain right now could possibly stop Clem's pursuit of having fish for lunch, their first fresh meal in a long time. Just watching that meat sizzle before her eyes was enough to make Clem drool. She was tempted to just grab it straight out of the pan when she heard the door swing open behind her. Clem spun around in a hurry and found Sarah staring back at her in surprise.

"Suh… sorry," mumbled Sarah as she trudged up the steps. "I should have knocked or called before I came in."

"It's… it's okay," stuttered Clem before taking a couple of deep breaths. "Did you—"

"Nothing," reported a saddened Sarah as she tossed off her backpack. "At least, no food."

"Was there—"

"No. It doesn't look like there has been anyone there in a long time… probably because there's no food."

"Figures," said Clem as Sarah stowed her equipment.

"I'm so sick of eating out of cans," griped Sarah as she took off her raincoat. "And I'm so hungry right now. What I wouldn't give for a salad, or a big ear of corn, or…" Sarah slammed the fridge shut and started sniffing the air. She turned to the stove suddenly and gazed longingly at the pan, a voracious hunger in her eyes. "Is that—"

"It took all morning and it's not very big but… yeah," said Clem with a smile. "It's a fish."

"Oh my God, that smells so good. I—" Sarah went quiet as she and Clem heard a whimpering from the baby monitor.

"He's up, I'll—"

"Let me get him," insisted Sarah as she hurried to the bedroom. "I barely get to see him when he's up anymore."

Clem slid the fish onto the plate and started cutting it into small pieces. Watching Sarah carry Omid out of the bedroom, Clem frowned as she saw him clinging to her for dear life, the palpable anxiety brewing in his big brown eyes stinging Clem's heart.

"It's okay, everything's okay," whispered Sarah as she coddled Omid in her arms. "Are you hungry? Hum-bee?" Omid said nothing. "Come on, say hungry. Hun-gree?" Sarah set Omid in his highchair and looked at him expectedly. "Hun-gree. Come on, you can do it. Hun-gree." Omid looked at Sarah, not in confusion but in attention of what she was saying, but still said nothing in response. "I… I don't suppose he said anything to you today?"

"No," reported a saddened Clem. "I hear him making little noises when he eats, but he hasn't said any words since…" Clem sighed. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"No," said Sarah as she shook her head. "I thought maybe he hurt his throat crying so much but, he hasn't had any trouble swallowing as he?"

"I don't think so. I hurt for me to chew after… but he seems to eat okay, even though he usually doesn't want to."

Clem noticed Omid eyeing the plate of fish. It was the first time she remembered seeing him look eager for a meal since their latest ordeal.

"That's right," said Clem in a sweet voice as she sat down close to Omid. "We've actually got something good to eat today." Clem placed a piece of fish in front of Omid, who looked down eagerly at it, but then back up at Clem, as if he was awaiting permission. "Go on, it's fine." Omid looked down at the tiny morsel, then scooped it up and popped it into his mouth.

"Oh my god he's smiling!" exclaimed Sarah as Omid happily chewed on the morsel, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He swallowed the piece and held out his hands.

"You want more?" asked Clem as she held out another piece that Omid reached for. "Just say more. Okay? More." Omid started whimpering as Clem held the fish just out of reach, which she then passed to him. "I don't understand, why isn't he talking anymore?" asked Clem as she watched Omid chew on another piece of fish.

"I don't know either Clem. All we can do is take care of him and hopefully he'll start talking again when he feels better." Sarah suddenly plucked a piece of fish off the plate and popped it in her mouth. "Oh my God, this is so good Clem," she mumbled as she chewed her food.

Clem found she couldn't wait any longer and finally sampled her own cooking; it was divine. Warm, tender, with a lemon zest that just set her taste buds ablaze. Despite their best efforts to make it last, the fish was gone in almost no time. Not content to let their first good meal in over a month end so quickly, Sarah retrieved a jar of jam and Clem a bag of ice-cream from the closet. The jar was half-empty when they were done and they were one less bag of desert richer, but it was worth it just for them to see Omid smiling again, even if it was only for a little while.

After lunch, Omid seemed to withdraw back into the same depressed state he had been in before eating. The pair both gave him a kiss and told him they loved him. For a moment, Clem thought she heard him say he loved them back. But no, it was clear from the look on his face he hadn't said a word. Watching Sarah carry Omid back into the bedroom, Clem sighed again and rubbed her wrist. It still hurt, and worse than it did this morning, and she could see a bit of blood on her bandage.

Heading into the bathroom, Clem couldn't avoid seeing her reflection in the cracked mirror. Her face was still covered in unsightly bruises that hadn't faded yet. Unwrapping the worn bandage around her wrist, Clem cringed as she felt her raw flesh be exposed to the open air and grimaced at the sight of the cut around her wrist bleeding slightly. Standing there, she felt a familiar pang of pain in her stomach. Pulling up on her shirt, Clem was horrified the bruises around her gunshot had turned a disturbing shade of purple.

"Are you okay?"

Clem turned to see Sarah standing in the door, Omid still in her arms. "I'm fine," she said as she pulled her shirt down. "Is Omid okay?"

"I don't think he's ready for a nap yet," said Sarah as she took a step forward. "Anytime I set him down he starts getting upset."

"Yeah, he doesn't like it when we're not around," explained Clem. "You just gotta kind of sit there and hold his hand until he falls asleep."

"Oh, I didn't know that. You've always had him down every time I've gone to bed lately."

"You also need to leave a light on for him. He doesn't like it if it's dark."

"That's good to know." Sarah looked down at Omid for a second, then back up at Clem. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," insisted Clem as she tried to leave.

"How's your side?" asked Sarah.

"It's okay, I—"

"And your head?"

"It's fine," insisted Clem. "It's been a few days, I'm—"

"Still hurt," finished Sarah. "Please, Clem, don't pretend like you're not, okay? If anything is wrong I need to know, in case there's something I can do."

Clem sighed as she looked away. "Everything still hurts…" she admitted. "Most of it isn't that bad, and it's getting better, but it's always there and… and I just want it to stop."

"I'm so sorry Clem," said Sarah. "Do you want a painkiller?"

"No… yes… but I don't want to take them in case the pain gets worse later."

"You think it'll get worse?"

Clem sighed. "My side has been hurting a lot lately. It's more like after you sewed it up, and sometimes it kind of hurts after I eat."

"Did that happen before—"

"Yeah, it did," added Clem. "And… it looks like this." Clem lifted up her shirt. "This isn't good, is it?"

"They're just bruises," assured Sarah. "They look bad because… because there's so many of them, but that's just what happens when you get hit really hard… they did hit your stomach, right?"

"Yeah, and a bunch of other stuff," mumbled Clem.

"Then it's probably just bruises. They look really bad, but you should okay.."

"What about the pain after I eat?" asked Clem. "Do you know what's causing that?"

"Sorry, no," admitted Sarah. "The wound did close up after I took out the stitches, but I don't know what else the bullet hit inside you. Hopefully it's just like the bruises, and it's just something that, I don't know, you only feel when your stomach expands after eating? I don't know," repeated a weary Sarah. "Anything else?"

"I… I kind of hurt my wrist when I was pulling in the fish." Clem immediately felt Sarah's hand firmly but carefully grasp her wrist as she shifted Omid into her other arm.

"I'll put a new bandage on it for you," said Sarah. "The last thing you need is an infection."

Sarah set Omid on the floor while Clem sat down and waited to be treated. As Sarah collected their medical supplies, Clem heard Omid whimpering quietly to himself on the floor. She was going to stand up but Omid stood up first, surprising her. He walked to her slowly, his left steps always taking just ever so slightly longer than his right ones. But eventually he reached out to Clem and she reached out and held is tiny hand with her uninjured one. Feeling his touch made Clem feel better, and it likewise seemed to settle Omid.

"He just walked…" Clem looked over at a stunned Sarah looking down at him. "That's good, I was really worried he had sprained or even broken his leg when…"

"He was walking kind of slow though," noted Clem as she squeezed Omid's hand a little harder.

"Yeah, I saw that," said Sarah as she set out bandages, rubbing alcohol, and medical tape. "It didn't look like a limp, but still, his leg must still hurt and he couldn't tell us because…. because he doesn't even cry anymore."

Clem watched as Sarah wiped her eyes. She reached out with her other hand to hold Sarah, and Sarah accepted it. She gave Clem a reassuring squeeze, then started cleaning the wound. The alcohol burned and Clem resisted the urge to call out in pain from it. Looking over at Omid, she could tell her distress must have been upsetting him, and so Clem forced a friendly smile on to her face, no matter how much it hurt.

Clem never thought she'd miss the sound of Omid crying, but she did, and badly. The silence had been utterly heartbreaking, and with every passing day the weight on Clem's shoulder felt greater than the day before. Omid had cried and cried for them when he needed them most and they couldn't be there for him. Now she couldn't help thinking he doesn't cry anymore because he's not sure she'll help him if he does, not sure she really loves him. She's told him repeatedly she does since his silence started, but as of so far, he had never dared speak back, not even to cry out loud when he's upset, just whimper softly.

"I found…"

Clem looked over at Sarah suddenly. She was nearly done wrapping the bandage as she bit her lower lip. "You found what?"

"Nothing."

"Sarah…"

Sarah sighed. "I found a flea market," said Sarah as she tied off the bandage. "Yesterday, you mentioned you wanted to replace some of the stuff you lost, like your backpack and your respirator."

"And my bike," added Clem.

"Yeah, it'd be good if we had two again, in case one of us has to go out after the other…" concluded Sarah. "But you don't need that stuff right now. It'll be a long time before you're fully healed and—"

"And anything could happen between now and then," dictated Clem. "I might have to come after you, or walkers might attack while you're gone, or worse."

"Yeah, maybe, but—"

"And I wanted to get some new shirts too. I don't have any spares left because things keep happening to them… and to me."

"Okay, but, just let me get the stuff for you," offered Sarah. "Just make me a list and—"

"I want to do it," insisted Clem.

"Clem…"

"Please Sarah? I spend all day in here, just like before. It's driving me crazy," pleaded Clem as she looked at her new bandage. "And it's safe in this store, right?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"There're no lurkers or even any bodies, and there's a lot of dust, like no one has been there in a long time but… I just don't feel like anything is safe anymore."

"Yeah." Clem squeezed Omid's hand as he clung to hers. "Me too."

Clem took Omid back to the bedroom while Sarah drove the Brave to this flea market she found. Setting Omid in the crib, she could hear him whimpering again and made sure to lean in close so he could see her.

"It's okay Omid," assured Clem in a soft voice as she stroked his hair. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Clem began what had become a small ritual for putting Omid to sleep. She'd tuck him in, stroke his hair, and whisper nice things into his ear until he'd fall asleep, which usually didn't take long. Clem thought back to all the long nights they spent trying to get a restless Omid to bed, and how she'd trade anything to get them back, if just because it meant he wanted to do something other than sleep.

The entire day after their ordeal, Clem tried playing with Omid in every way she could think of. She paraded toys around him, tossed balls across the room, read him his favorite books, and none of it interested him. Even tickling him under his chin did nothing, as if what had happened somehow made him not ticklish anymore. The only toy he had any interest in was his stuffed elephant, which he clung to as firmly in one arm as he clung to Clem's with the other. Beyond that, he never seemed to want to leave his crib anymore,

Seeing Omid's eyes were closed now, Clem slowly pulled back her hand and sighed.

"He hasn't gotten any better, has he?" Clem looked over her shoulder and saw Sarah standing in the door, her face wracked with guilt.

"How long have you been there?" asked Clem.

"A couple minutes, maybe longer," shrugged Sarah. "God, I wish there was something we could do. I was looking at all the books this flea market had, hoping there was some parenting ones that told me something the ones I read before didn't."

"Did they?"

"No." Sarah looked down at Omid, sadness welling up in her eyes as she did. "At least… at least it looks like he's walking okay."

"Yeah, at least that's getting better," said Clem. "He couldn't even stand up without hurting himself the day after."

"And there still could be something wrong with him. I mean, something else beyond him just not talking, some injury we can't see." Sarah looked at Clem suddenly. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's just an old store, right?"

"Yeah, but you're getting stuff so you can out again. I don't want you to do that anymore, not while you're still hurt."

"I don't either, but it's better to get these things now then waiting for when we really need them," said Clem as she looked out the window. "Besides, I want to get out of the RV for a while, and do something other than fishing."

"I know all that it's just… let's be really careful."

"We will."

The pair prepared themselves for their excursion. Even though Sarah had parked them near the flea market they weren't taking any chances. Clem took her pistol, ankle gun, tomahawk, and knife, and Sarah likewise armed herself with a machete, rifle, and stuffed a revolver in her sock. While Sarah checked for threats from the windows, Clem briefly returned to the bedroom to check on Omid. He was asleep but not soundly, wearing a pained expression on his face that haunted Clem. She knelt down, making sure the baby monitor was close enough to him so she could hear his whimpering if he woke up.

"I'm sorry," whispered Clem as she gently rubbed his head. "I'm so sorry." Leaving Omid to sleep, Clem headed to the front where Sarah was waiting, her rifle clutched tightly in her hands.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

Sarah marched down the steps and placed her hand on the handle. She threw open the door and charged outside, raising her rifle as she burst out of the RV. Clem watched as she scanned the area with her gun, then motioned for Clem to come with her. Clem moved her hand to her pistol, grimacing in pain as she gripped it. She stepped out and Sarah hurriedly shut and locked the door behind her, and just like that Clem was out in the open again.

Examining her surroundings, Clem saw they were parked in the middle of the main street of a very tiny town. She could tell it was small town because a two-garage brick building sandwiched between two even smaller buildings was labeled 'Fire Department' and the building on the other side of the street was labeled 'Municipal Building - Clerk, Police, Library'. And she could tell this was the main street from the abundance of buildings surrounding this otherwise narrow road.

The street was actually fairly crowded, with signs and parking spaces right outside every storefront forming a very tight concentration of buildings in a small area. It almost looked like something out of an old picture from a long time ago when towns were so small they only had one road. Clem could even see a tractor and a forklift amongst a lot of pick-up trucks that contributed to the rustic feel. But off in the distance were massive silos glinting in the mid-day sun sitting across from even taller industrial stacks that towered over everything in sight.

"What are those?" asked Clem as she gazed up at these structures that dwarfed everything in sight.

"I have no idea," admitted Sarah. "They're right next to the railroad tracks though, so I thought maybe since there were silos over there, they might ship grain or something, and there could even be some left to find. But no, there's not. Or if there is, I have no idea how to get to it. And even if I did, it's probably gone bad by now."

Clem looked at Sarah and could tell she was distressed, but what bothered her more is she was clearly trying to hide it. "If these people couldn't make a farm work…" Clem heard Sarah mumble under her breath.

"What?" asked Clem.

"Nothing," insisted Sarah. "Come on, the flea market is right up ahead."

Clem walked with Sarah as they moved slowly down the main road. The silence was eerie, along with the total lack of signs of any form of struggle. No bodies in the street, no broken windows, and almost no cars either beyond the few left in the lot she saw. It was as if the whole town just vanished. This should have put her at ease since it meant the chances of running into trouble were slight, but it just disturbed her instead. If a small farming town, isolated from the world, that didn't fall to walkers or the living, couldn't survive, what chance did they have?

"All right, here we are." Sarah pointed at a big brick building with a roll-up garage door and a few windows positioned around a set of double doors just ahead. She raised her rifle and moved towards the door. "I checked it out earlier, but stay close, just in case."

"I'll be right behind you."

Clem drew her pistol but found it difficult to hold it steady. As Sarah pulled open the door, the loud creaking sound cutting through the otherwise dead silence made Clem anxious. She found herself eying the road, constantly fearful something would come rushing out to meet here any second. Clem tightened her grip on her pistol, despite how much pain it was causing her. For a moment, she thought she spotted something moving on the horizon just before she felt someone approach her from behind.

"Clem."

"Huh?" asked a frightened Clem as she spun around to find Sarah standing by the door.

"I was just saying it looks safe to come in…" Sarah stared at Clem for a second. "Are you sure you—"

"Yeah, I'm…" Clem looked over at the road again and saw what was moving was just the shimmering of the asphalt on the horizon under a hot summer sun. "I'm fine," insisted Clem as she approached the door. "Let's just get inside already."

Clem hurried inside and the door creaked shut behind her. The market was a dimly lit sea of tables covered in unwanted knick-knacks, tapes of forgotten films, and appliances that were at least twice as old as Clementine herself. The air was musty, like an old closet with even older clothes that no one has bothered clearing out for years. Just moving past the nearest table, Clem saw a collection of dusty drinking glasses with old logos on them she didn't recognize and wondered who would ever want these.

"Come on," motioned Sarah. "In the back, I saw a case that had some gas masks and other tools that might be useful." Clem followed Sarah through the store, briefly eyeing old crates stuffed with plastic wrapped comic books and bins of a random half-broken toys before following Sarah through a door. They arrived in a narrower section of the store filled with old furniture and other larger items, lit only by a single window facing the road.

In the back, Clem could see a couple of free-standing glass display cases glistening in the low light. Approaching them, she saw one held an extensive collection of knives and other bladed instruments while the case beside it contained an odd assortment of tools. There was a selection of canteens, compasses, lighters, and a small variety of backpacks and gas masks hanging from hooks inside.

"There're some clothes on the other side of the store," said Sarah as she removed the bolt cutters from her backpack. "Although most of it didn't look your size, but I could go dig through them while you see if any of these fit, that way we can get out of here faster."

"Okay," said Clem as Sarah cut the meager lock that kept the case shut.

"Unless, you want me to stay here with you," said Sarah as she set the bolt cutters on the floor.

"No, I'll be okay," assured Clem as she looked at the display. "Let's just do this and get out of here."

"Right, just call me on the radio if anything happens, or if you hear Omid wake up."

"I will." Clem felt Sarah briefly holding her uninjured hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that Clem returned before she pulled away. Alone now, Clem grabbed the first respirator she saw out of the case. It was a lot like her old one, a small and simple mask that only covered her mouth and nose, just painted black instead. Putting it on, she had to adjust the strap several times before it was a snug fit.

Thinking it would do, Clem turned to leave only to find someone rushing at her. She drew her gun and nearly pulled the trigger when she discovered her own reflection aiming back at her. Clem breathed a little easier as she realized she was looking at an antique full body mirror. She was about to put her gun away, when she found herself disturbed by the sight of her own appearance. Even in the dim light with her mask on, Clem could see the bruises on her face and the fear in her quivering eyes; she looked pathetic.

Turning back to the display case, Clem eyed another mask that covered the entire face. She took off the one she was wearing and grabbed the face mask. Fumbling with the straps as she tried to slip it on, Clem knocked her hat off. As she picked it up off the floor, she caught sight of herself in the mirror again. Placing the dirty old purple and white ball cap back on her head, Clem couldn't help thinking how childish it looked to her, and to anyone who saw her wearing it. She took it off and slipped on the gas mask instead.

Looking at herself again, Clem felt a little safer that she couldn't see her own face anymore; you couldn't tell right away she was a child. But that left her with the hat in her hand. It wouldn't fit over her head with the face mask on it, and even if it did, would she want to wear it anymore? Looking at her hat through the masks' eyepieces, she wondered to herself why she bothered holding onto it anymore. Studying the rips, dirt, and blood that had stained it, she found the sight of it brought her no comfort, and let it slip from her fingers and onto to the floor.

Clementine couldn't resist the urge to look down at her hat, lying crumpled up at her feet. She eventually forced herself to turn away and ended up facing the mirror again. Looking at herself now, the first thing she noticed was her hair-bun sticking out of the back of the mask. Examining a profile of herself, it was impossible to ignore how seeing that meant anyone could tell she was a girl from a glance. She couldn't hide it with a hat since it wouldn't fit over the mask, so Clem found her hand moving to the knife on her belt instead.

She positioned the blade right under the bun but hesitated to cut it off. She hated cutting her hair, and hated cutting it so short even more. But Clem told herself it was necessary, and with a single decisive slice, cut off her hair. Even with the bun gone, Clem saw there were scattered curls sticking out past the sides of the mask, and began to carefully shave them off one by one.
Bit by bit, Clem's hair fell to her feet next to where her hat lay, until it was short enough to not be noticeable. Looking at herself now, she noticed her eyes weren't visible through the tinted lenses of the mask. It was surreal for Clem, staring at a mirror and not recognizing the person staring back. She didn't like it, but told herself it was better to look this way than how she liked anymore.

Again, Clem turned to leave, but that's when she spotted her tomahawk on her back. It's purple handle stood out like a sore thumb. Removing the weapon from her shoulder, Clem took off its sheath and examined its blades. They were both worn and chipped from so many encounters, and along with the flamboyant handle, Clem realized it was another clue to anyone who saw her that she was just a child.

Looking at the case of weapons next to the gas masks, Clem placed the sheath back on her tomahawk, then dropped it onto the ground next to her hat and hair. She picked up the bolt cutters and, although painful to do so, cut the lock on the other case. Looking at the collection of finely sharpened weapons made from black steel, Clem honed in on a tomahawk hanging in the middle.

It was much like her old one, axe-headed on one side with a knife-edge on the other. The handle was one long black piece ribbed at the bottom to create a grip. Picking it up, Clem could feel the difference in weight immediately. Despite being slightly smaller than her old tomahawk, it was a bit heavier, and the rounded handle made it easier to hold onto. Giving it a couple of good swings, Clem heard a faint but distinct slicing through the air and was pleased. The added weight would likely make it easier to crack a walker's bones too. Turning to get a look at herself in the mirror, Clem discovered a stunned Sarah hastily backing away from her.

"Cuh… Clem?" stuttered Sarah.

"Yeah," answered Clem as she lifted the mask up.

"You… you scared me," admitted Sarah before taking a couple of quick breaths.

"I did?" Sarah nodded. "Good."

"Good?"

"I don't want people to know I'm just a little kid. I don't want them to know they can just… hurt me, and do whatever they want to me just from looking at me." Clem turned back to the mirror. Pulling the mask down, she felt safer for not being able to see herself. She was still short, but between the mask, the new tomahawk, and her cut hair, she looked someone who might dangerous, and Clem told herself that was a good thing. "It's better if we look scary than like kids."
"That's… that's probably true," conceded Sarah in a hushed whisper. She watched as Sarah approached the case and removed the other face mask from the display. "I found a few shirts that should fit you. I put them in a box just outside. They're not pretty, but—"

"That doesn't matter," concluded Clem as she looked at the stranger in the mirror again. "Right now, the important thing is staying safe; keeping Omid safe." Clem knelt down and removed the sheath from her old tomahawk. It fit snuggly over the new one, and Clem figured she could make a new strap from a fresh piece of rope later. Grabbing one of the smaller backpacks from the case, Clem placed the tomahawk inside and threw it over her shoulder before heading for the door.

"Wait," said Sarah. "You forgot your hat."

"I… I can't wear it with this mask," explained Clem.

"Yeah, but—"

"I… I don't want to wear it anymore," confessed Clem. "I can't look at it and not think about all the times I almost died, or someone else died, and… I don't want it anymore. And… I just look like a dumb kid wearing it anyway."

"Oh… I guess that means you don't want the bracelet I made you either."

Clem had forgotten she was even wearing Sarah's bracelet. Looking at the gap between her sleeve and her glove, she saw the arrangement of colorful plastic beads and the heart hanging from the elastic and realized it was a dead giveaway she was a child. She tugged on the bracelet, but found her hand refused to remove it.

"I… I can hide it in my glove," rationalized Clem. "But I can't really hide a hat so… so it's better if I just leave it behind."

Clem sighed, then stepped out. She found a box of shirts right outside the door, just like Sarah had described. Digging through them, Clem discovered she didn't even care what they looked like, and just picked out a handful of darker colored ones that hopefully wouldn't make her stand out. Stuffing the clothes into her new black backpack, Clem looked over expecting to see Sarah right behind her, but she wasn't there.

"Sarah?"

Sarah came shuffling out of the backroom, a new backpack slung over her shoulder. "Sorry, I was trying to find which one I liked best, then I had to put away the bolt cutters and…" Sarah trailed off and then looked over at Clem, appearing disturbed by what she saw.

"What's wrong?" asked Clem.

"It's just weird I can't see your face right now."

"That's the point," asserted Clem.

"Yeah, but from strangers, not each other, right?" Clem pulled her mask up and Sarah looked relieved. "Thanks."

"If we ever go out together again, we're gonna have to wear these."

"I know that," said Sarah. "It's just so… different."

"Yeah, it is…" Clem looked around the store, eyeing the many tables laid out before her. "Do they have any bikes here?"

"Sorry, no. I looked all over but I didn't find any." Clem sighed sadly. "I did find this though." Sarah walked over to a table and pulled on a piece of fabric.

"What is it?" asked Clem.

"It's just something I thought you could use." Sarah held out a short dark blue polyester coat. "I couldn't find a raincoat to replace yours, but this one is small enough that if we cut the sleeves in half it should fit, and it has pockets and a hood, so it might even be better."

"Oh."

"You don't like it," realized Sarah.

"It's not that, it's just... I was really hoping I could get a new bike," professed Clem.

"I'm sorry. Maybe we could—"

"It's okay, we got what we need, and that's what's important." Clem slipped her back mask down. She had to tug on it a few times to line up the lenses with her eyes. Once she was done, she stood there staring through the tinted glass for a second, then removed her gun from its holster.

"What are you doing?" asked Sarah.

"It's a little harder to aim with this on," realized Clem as she tried lining up her sights. "We should practice shooting with these on."

"Do we have too?" asked Sarah. "We only have a few boxes of bullets for each gun, and none for the revolver, plus—"

"We should practice," concluded Clementine as she put her gun away. "Before something goes wrong."

Sarah let out a long sigh, then nodded. "All right, but not here. Let's go move the Brave somewhere more isolated and practice a few shots there."

The pair returned to the Brave without a word and Clem stowed most of her equipment. It was strange seeing this new tomahawk seated in the closet where her old one had remained for so long, but Clem told herself she was safer for having a better weapon. Sarah drove them somewhere remote to practice while Clem checked on Omid; still asleep and still frowning. Sarah found a lightly wooded area and pulled them off the road and out of sight.

"All right, I'll go first to make sure it's safe," reasoned Sarah as she set the parking brake.

"I'll stay with Omid, in case the gunshots scare him," said Clem. "Then we can trade places when you're done."

"By the way," said Sarah as she picked up her backpack. "I got… I got this for Omid." Clem watched as Sarah removed a small plastic globe from her bag.

"What is it?" asked Clem as she studied the item, noting the colorful blue plastic with buttons that made up the bottom half.

"A night light, I think," said Sarah. "I mean, it needs batteries and I think it's some kind of toy, light, projector, thing, but maybe it'll help make the dark less scarier for Omid." Sarah shrugged and set the globe on the table. "It probably doesn't even work anymore." Sarah picked up her rifle and her gas mask. "Radio me if anything happens, okay?"

"I will." Sarah headed out and Clem headed into the bedroom, only to find Omid still wearing that same anxious look on his face as he slept. With nothing better to do, Clem retrieved the globe Sarah had taken. She found the battery compartment with little effort and batteries for it not long after. Returning to the bedroom to test it, Clem wasn't sure to expect. The three buttons on the front weren't labeled, so she had no idea which one turned it on. She was about to press one when a gunshot ran out from above.

Clem watched as Omid started to fidget in his crib. Clem set the globe aside and hastily retrieved their radio instead. She put in a disc for lullabies and turned it on just as a second shot sounded. While Sarah practiced her shooting, Clem whispered to Omid as the soft music played by his crib. It wasn't quite enough to drown out the gunfire, but enough to keep Omid from waking. Looking at him settle into a familiar grimace, Clem only felt slightly less tense than she did a minute ago.

Thankfully, there was only six shots total, after which Clem could hear Sarah climbing down off the roof. Going back up to the front, Clem caught sight of Sarah coming up the stairs.

"How it'd go?" asked Clem.

"It's kind of weird to aim through the mask with a scope, especially since I've already got my glasses on underneath," said Sarah. "But it wasn't much harder than normal." Sarah clicked the safety on her rifle then set it aside. "Is Omid alright?"

"The first couple of shots scared him, but I put some music on and he was okay… well, as okay as he can be right now."

"We should dig out those earmuffs we took from that gun store and put them one while he's asleep," suggested Sarah. "You know, the big yellow ones that muffle noise."

"We gave those to Sin when he was using the backhoe," reminded Clem, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Oh yeah…" Sarah looked down at her feet for a second. "Okay, I'll go stay with Omid while you practice."

"I'll make it quick," promised Clem as she picked up her mask. "I just want to make sure I can aim with this on."

"You should," assured Sarah. "It only took me a few shots to adjust."

Clem tightened the mask and headed for the door. She was going to leave, but then grabbed Sarah's rifle.

"You want to practice with it too?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, I might as well, you know, just in case," said Clem through her mask.

"Just remember to brace it against your shoulder before you shoot."

"I will."

Clem gave Sarah a nod, then headed outside. Looking around, Clem was grateful for the cover the trees provided, but couldn't ignore how there was no forest behind them. This was just a small patch of woods bordering an even smaller creek than the one she fished in earlier. Clem never thought she'd miss the sprawling pine forests of the Southeast, but looking around now made her realize how much easier it was to hide amongst them.

Not wanting to spend a second outside longer than necessary, Clem hurried around to the back of the Brave and quickly scaled the ladder. Getting into position, she decided to start simple by shooting a tree trunk in the distance a few times with her pistol. Even with the mask on, it wasn't much of an adjustment to line up the sights, and after two successful hits in a row, Clem moved onto the rifle.

This proved more challenging, as the mask prevented Clem from pressing the scope up against her eye. After some trial and error, Clem found she could angle the rifle in front of the mask in a way that let her look through the scope. After lining up her crosshairs over the tree trunk, Clem squeezed the trigger. A bit of bark exploded right next to where the last two shots landed. Clem set the rifle down for a second to rub her still aching wrist, then prepared to take another practice shot when shot spotted something moving towards her.

At first she thought she was seeing another trick of the heat and the light, like back in town. But then, suddenly but clumsily, a figure emerged from the edge of the tree line. A panicked Clem raised the rifle, cursing herself for instinctively trying to move the scope to her eye. Peering through it, she saw them, a person moving towards her. As she adjusted her aim towards their head, the figure turned and looked right at her. There was a deafening bang and it wasn't until a second later Clem realized she had pulled the rifle's trigger. The figure stumbled backwards, and as they did, she caught sight of a sudden flash of red hair before they fell out of sight.

"Patty?" Clem hopped to her feet as she felt a tremendous swell of dread in the pit of her stomach. It crept through her body like thick cloud, grasping her every nerve until she was too paralyzed to even move. Staring out at where the stranger had fallen, Clem waited for them to get up. When that didn't happen she looked around, terrified someone else was already running up to meet her. And when that didn't happen, Clem tossed the rifle over her shoulder and forced her shaking knees to start moving.

She climbed down in a hurry and stumbled towards the trees as fast as she could. In her mind, Clem knew what she was doing was incredibly risky. There could be a herd of walkers swarming towards them this very second, or people lying in wait to avenge their comrade. But her conscience forced her forward anyways, the guilt practically shoving Clem towards the trees. She tried to block out, but Clem kept telling herself; if anything happened to her right now, she deserved it.

Reaching the edge of the wooded area, Clem started frantically searching for the body of the person she shot. Scanning the ground, shuffling about for any clues of where they landed, Clem couldn't force out the image of Patty lying dead in the dirt with a hole in her head, all because of her. But there was nothing; no blood, no sign of the body, no clues to where her victim had landed. Looking around, Clem didn't even see the tree she had shot at, and just started blindly moving along the creek in hopes of finding something.

The longer she searched the more panicked she became, rushing about to every tree, figuring they had to have dropped next to one she was using for target practice. Clem started gasping for breath through her mask as her panicked mind began to grasp at other horrible possibilities. What if she had killed someone else, someone like herself, someone with a family, someone who would have helped had Clem not shot them. Suddenly, the image of the girl she shot flashed into her mind, and Clem found she couldn't breathe anymore, tearing her mask off in desperation as she was practically choking for air, and that's when she discovered the body.

"It's… it's a walker." Clem breathed a sigh of relief as she looked down at the battered and putrid corpse lying face down in the creek. It wasn't a living person, it wasn't a woman, it didn't even have red hair like she had thought she had seen, having a muddy brown patch of uncombed short curls atop what remained of their head. The clothes were dirty and faded, meaning they had probably been dead for a while, and their face was so rotted Clem couldn't make out much other than it used to be a man with a brown beard.

Just as her breathing had nearly returned to normal, Clem suddenly realized she was standing alone out in the open. She took off running back towards the Brave and didn't stop until she came barging past the door. She immediately spun around, slammed the door shut and pulled the lock into place. Only now could she breathe easier, safe in her home, or at least as safe as she could be.

"Clem, are you okay?"

Clem tensed up after Sarah asked her that. She could tell from the tone of her voice that Sarah knew something was wrong.

"I… I… I shot a walker," blurted out Clem between deep breaths.

"What?" asked Sarah, sounding surprised. "Where?"

"Just on the edge of the creek. It's okay—"

"Where on the edge of the creek?"

"Why do you want to know?" asked a nervous Clem, growing tenser as she felt as if she was being interrogated. "It's… it's just a walker, okay. Why—"

"If a lurker followed the sound of our guns, there could be more in the direction it came from."

"Oh, you're right," concluded Clem. "There could be a herd coming. We need to get out of here."

"No, we should go towards whatever direction it came from,"

"What, why?"

"If there are lurkers that way, that means it's somewhere people haven't cleared out yet, and that means we might finally find food again."

"Yeah, maybe, but that could be dangerous," said Clem. "I don't think we should take that risk."

"I can handle lurkers, and we'll be extra careful."

"We could just find somewhere better to fish," suggested Clem. "I mean, the canned stuff is going to run out eventually, right?"

"We can't eat just fish. Even with the vitamins we have we wouldn't get all the nutrients we need from them; Omid wouldn't get enough."

"I… I'm just nervous because—"

"I know Clem, but don't worry, I'll take care of it," assured Sarah as she rubbed Clem's shoulder. "You're not going out there again. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you this time."

"Yeah, but… now I'm worried about you."

"I know you are but… one of has to take the risk, and it should be me this time."