We all stood in a half circle, surrounding a freshly dug and empty grave. Uncle Hershel read from his Bible as we held a funeral for Otis. I wanted to do nothing more than to confront Shane, but now wasn't the time nor did I have any concrete proof.

I was the one that dug the grave early in the morning, long before anyone really woke up to help. As I dug the hole right next to Shawn's grave, the only semblance of happiness I had was knowing that Aunt Annette's body was in her grave and Shawn was in his. Otis was in my position a few months ago, he was the one to dig it for them and was the one to place them in.

It was one of the few times I went hunting by myself when they were both bit. In a way, I still blame myself for not being back at the farm when it happened. It was the same kind of blame that I felt for not being with Otis to stop him from accidently shooting Carl and not being with Otis and Shane to get those damn medical supplies.

I was snapped back into current reality when I heard Patricia's broken voice next to me. "Shane, will you speak for Otis?"

The way Shane fidgeted under the stares made me want to punch the shit out of him, but Beth's hold on my hand kept me grounded in place. "I'm not good at it. I'm sorry." He said while looking down at the ground. The very least he could do was look at Patricia's face, but he's too much of a coward to do that.

"You were the last one with him. You shared his final moments. Please." She begged, "I need to hear... I need to know his death had meaning."

Silence fell around us for a brief moment before Shane spoke again, "Okay. We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to just a pistol by then. I was limping- it was bad... Ankle all swollen up. 'We've got to save the boy.' See, that's what he said." He paused to sniff, acting sad and shit. "He gave me his backpack. He shoved me ahead... 'Run,' he said, 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover you.' And when I looked back... If not for Otis, I'd have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl, too. It was Otis. He saved us both. If any death ever had meaning, it was his."

Biting back so many words, I pulled my hand away from Beth's and stormed off into the house. I paced around my room, unsure of what to do or how to feel. Was I angry? Yeah. I was angry, sad, and frustrated. Every word that came out of Shane's mouth was nothing but a lie and the fact that he had the audacity to stand in front of me and my family and lie made me want to scream.

My mind switched to autopilot as I swung at the punching bag Otis helped me hang up on my eighteenth birthday. I told him I got it because I was getting into kickboxing, but I actually got it because I was getting into street fighting. I spent most of my time at the shady boxing gym in town getting the real practice in and the punching bag was for basic exercises.

I swung at the bag again as I thought about the times I caught Shawn in my room taking shitty ass swings at it. He had somehow managed to break his hand and wrist while punching it. Even though we all poked fun at him, I promised him that I would teach him how to throw a proper punch when he got his cast off. He never got the chance to live down the incident by doing something else that stupid.

Another punch was thrown as I thought back to the time Maggie, Shawn and Beth showed up to the hospital after one of the guys I was fighting pulled a knife on me and sliced open my leg, near my knee, pretty badly. Shawn had told a really bad joke and it was so bad it got little Beth to stop crying for a bit. I had to tell them the truth on how I got the injury and we all agreed to tell Uncle Hershel and Aunt Annette that it was a mugging gone wrong.

I threw punch after punch as I thought about the people that I've lost since the dead started to come back to life. Pain radiated from my knuckles, but I didn't care to stop. If I did stop, Shane and his bullshit would be my next target.

"Vesper." I ignored Maggie as she called out my name. "Vesper." She called out again, but I continued to ignore her. I didn't want to see anymore tears, anymore brokenness. My punches got harder and harder until the chain on the punching bag snapped. It fell to the ground and I saw how much of my blood and sweat was actually on it. My hands were red with my blood. Bruises will form in a day or two and it would be even longer for the skin on my busted knuckle to form back.

"I don't trust Shane, at all." My voice was raspy when I broke the silence. "He didn't- I know Otis, Maggie. As much of a caring person he was, he wouldn't've just sacrificed himself. Not like that. Not without a fight knowing he had a family to get back to. Now he's being eaten and he has an empty fucking grave."

Instead of saying anything, Maggie led me over to the bathroom and started cleaning the blood off my hands. Cold water ran over my knuckles as she got the first-aid kit from under the sink. It's something she somehow got used to doing. I asked for help one time and ever since then she would usually be the one to bandage my hands. We would sit on the floor, and sometimes Shawn and Beth would pile into the bathroom with us to hear how the fight went. Beth never liked hearing the details, but Shawn practically salivated over it.

Maggie poured some rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad and wiped away at the torn skin. "His actions had meaning, but not his death. We still need you out there, Ves." She sighed as she continued working on my hands. "Some of the others in Rick's group is looking for a little girl. I know you're wantin' to get out the house, be anywhere but here... If you grab the County Survey Map and take it out to them, you should be able to help them look. You know the woods just as well as I do, if not more."

I stayed silent as she wrapped my hands with gauze. Usually, she would bypass the extra padding under the wrappings, but my knuckles were still bleeding and I had a feeling it would take a minute for it to stop. As she worked on wrapping my right hand first, she lightly traced the head of my snake tattoo. "I remember when you got that. Daddy was pissed." She chuckled. "Momma was ready to hold you down while Daddy took a cheese grater to it."

I laughed with her at the memory. "I remember that, too. Otis was the one that talked me into getting it and was one of the ones to convince them not to turn me into a human block of cheese."

"Otis talked you into getting it?" Maggie asked, shocked.

"Mm-hmm. I told him I wanted to get a snake tattoo and he helped me find a reference picture. I think Aunt Annette's anger was mostly based on the fact I got such a mean looking snake."

"And not how big it is or the fact that it's also on your hand?" She finished wrapping my right hand and moved onto my left. The alcohol soaked cotton pad stung my skin as she wiped away some of the blood that seeped out the temporary covering she placed on it. "I think the only tattoo either one of them liked was the ones we got together."

Maggie placed a few layers of gauze on my knuckles before grabbing the roll to start wrapping. I looked down at my black cat moon on my wrist and laughed some more. "That's because Aunt Annette loved cats. She liked my moth tattoo though."

"Ha! In what universe? Patricia loves it, Momma did not. She hated it because it was a moth and it was on the back of your head. If she ever did like it, it was because your hair covered it up most of the time."

"Was she also lying when she said she liked my sword tattoo?"

"Yup." Maggie finished wrapping my left hand and started to clean up our little mess. "And that Medusa one on your thigh. She liked the mouse on your ankle. Said it was one of the more tasteful ones you had."

"Well, I knew about the mouse." I sighed as I climbed to my feet. "It's good to know that most of my life has been a lie."

She stood up next to me, rolling her eyes. "Oh shut up, Vesper. You're life has not been a lie."

"Hey, if it turns out you're not really my cousin, you'll still hold that particular place in my heart. Beth too."

Maggie's jaw dropped open in shock and she scoffed. "I can't believe you. Go get those damn maps, before I get them and hit you with them!" She playfully shoved me out the bathroom with a laugh.

"Maggie Greene! Language!"

"You're one to talk!"

"Seems like you really are my cousin." I ducked fast enough when Maggie threw the gauze at me, but not fast enough when she threw the small roll of tape. Seems like I probably rubbed off a bit too much on my little cousin. I loved how she always knew how to cheer me up or at least take my my mind off the things that made me upset.

Trying to get used to the wrappings, I flexed my hands as I walked down the stairs. I grabbed the Survey Maps from the coat closet none of us really used and headed outside. Maggie was quick to catch up and walked by my side to a old tan truck. Uncle Hershel, Rick, Shane, the blond from the woods and Mr. Crossbow stood at the hood, talking amongst themselves.

"County Survey Map," I announced as I spread the large piece of paper over the hood. "Shows terrain and elevations." Maggie placed three rocks on the map to hold it open, one in each upper corner and one in the lower middle.

"This is perfect. We can finally get things organized." Rick said as he looked the map over. "We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams."

Uncle Hershel shook his head. "Not you, not today. You gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking for five minutes in this heat before passing out." He then turned towards Shane, "And your ankle - push it now, you'll be laid up for a month. No good to anybody."

"Guess it's just me." Mr. Crossbow said, reaching across the map and pointed towards the creek. "I'm gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there."

I stayed quiet until Maggie nudged me in the side. "I'll go with you. I know the woods around here pretty damn well."

"Are you sure?" Uncle Hershel motioned towards my wrapped hands. "Would you even be able to hold a knife properly if you went out now?"

"I'm sure, Uncle Hershel. I could sew a man's eyes shut if I wanted to even with my hands wrapped. Besides, it would be ridiculous sittin' here knowin' I could be of use somewhere else." I looked over at Mr. Crossbow with a raised eyebrow, "Would you be alright with that?" I really need to get better at learning people's names. If I keep this up, his name will forever be Mr. Crossbow, no matter how shitty of a name it is.

He shrugged and gave a nod. "Fine by me."

"I can still be useful," Shane said. "I'll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back."

"Alright, tomorrow then." Rick agreed. "We'll start doing this right."

"That means we can't have our people out there with just knives. They need gun training, we've been promising them." Shane looked between my uncle and Rick. The look he was giving them both didn't sit right with me.

"I'd prefer you not carrying guns on my property." Uncle Hershel shifted in his spot while looking at Rick and the others. "We've managed so far without turning this into an armed camp."

Shane fiddled with his hat once he took it off. "With all due respect, you get a crowd of those wandering here..."

"We're guests here." Rick was quick to cut Shane off, "This is your property and we will respect that." Rick clearly emphasized the last part to his buddy, Shane with a slight glare. He pulled out his Colt and placed it down on the map. Shane turned away a bit before reluctantly pulling out his gun out too, placing it right next to Rick's. "First thing's first: set up camp, then find Sophia."

"I hate to be the one to ask, but somebody's got to. What happens if we find her and she's bit?" The urge to reach across Maggie to punch Shane in the mouth was so strong. "I think we should all be clear on how to handle that."

Judging by the look on Rick's face, he was feeling the same way as me. "You do what has to be done."

"And her mother? What do you tell her?" Maggie asked, looking at Rick. Uncle Hershel gave her a look causing her to look down and away. Our job was to help find Sophia, nothing more, nothing less. Everything else was all up to their group. Even with that thought in my mind, I placed a hand on her arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"The truth." Blondie threw a look towards Maggie that was a bit hard to read. It reminded me of the looks the popular girls in high school would throw towards other girls that weren't in their group. It was a bad look, but I'm not sure if it's bad or a worse-than-bad look.

"I'll gather and secure all the weapons." Shane drew the attention back to him. "Make sure no one's carrying 'til we're at a practice range off site. I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale's got experience." Uncle Hershel stared Shane down, clearly unhappy with the request.

"Our people would feel safer, less inclined to carry a gun." Rick explained to him. Uncle Hershel just nodded in agreement, relenting just a little bit. "Thank you."

Mr. Crossbow and Shane walked off - leaving me, Maggie, Rick, Blondie, and Uncle Hershel standing by the tuck. My body relaxed a bit when Shane left my field of vision. "That stuff you brought, got any more antibiotics, bandages, anything like that?" Maggie asked, leaving the question open to be answered by anyone.

Rick looked over at Blondie. "Just what you've seen." She replied before walking away with the other two.

"We're running short already. I should make a run into town." Maggie looked at her father and I. We used up quite a bit in the last few days. My little rage fit in my room didn't exactly help either. It's no wander we're already running low.

"Not where Shane went?" Rick interjected with an oddly worried look on his face.

"No, there's a pharmacy just a mile down the road." She looked over at Uncle Hershel, "I've done it before."

Rick scratched his beard and looked behind where some of his people were setting up camp. "See our man over there with the baseball cap? That's Glenn, our go-to-town expert. I'd like to ask him along just to be cautious."

Maggie and Uncle Hershel exchanged a glance with each other. He gave a slight nod, signaling to Maggie that it was okay to go ask him to go to town with her. With one last glance at my uncle, I made my way over to where Mr. Crossbow was. He sat a bit away from the others as he cleaned his crossbow, getting ready to go into the woods.

"So, the creek, huh?" I plopped down on the ground a few feet away him. I had a feeling personal space was a big thing for him, like it was for me.

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" He snapped at me. I stared at him for a moment before it dawned on me that he was Daryl Dixon. Merle's little brother. The glare and the scowl was damn near identical. "What're you starin' at, woman?"

Yup... Definitely brothers. "Seein' how you're in front of me and nobody else is around, I'd say I'm starin' at you."

"Don't you got somethin' better to do?"

"Like what?"

He glared at me, "Like paintin' your nails or some shit like that." They are so totally brothers, there is no doubt in the universe at this point. Merle used the same insult with me at our first street fight together and I'm pretty sure that's where this redneck got it from.

"I'm sorry," I let out a humorless chuckle. "Was that supposed to insult me? If it was, you gotta get better at 'em. I mean honestly. I'm pretty sure I could go over to Carl, ask him to insult me and it would hurt more than what you just said. 'Paintin' your nails or some shit'? That's basic."

Daryl's face grew red and his facial features turned into such a scowl, it almost made me uneasy. "I don't know who you think you are, but you keep talkin' like that, you'll regret it."

"I regret a lot of things, being a sarcastic pain in the ass ain't one of them." I stood up with a smirk on my face. "And my name's Vesper, Mr. Dixon. I'll be at the tree line over by the stables whenever you're ready to get to searchin'." I gave a mock salute and walked away from the fuming redneck.