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Chapter Text

Sophia Peletier presses herself against the pavement, her stomach rubbing against the ground, still hot from the blazing sun, even from where she's hidden under one of the cars in the wreck. The warmth from the concrete seeps through her shirt and into her skin. It burns, and she has no doubt she's going to be in pain for a while after. But she's too scared out of her mind to really care much about it at all. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of Eliza's doll. Oh, how she wished she hadn't gone out of the RV. Maybe if she stayed inside, then she would be safer. If she had stayed inside, then perhaps she wouldn't be hidden under a car with the ground burning her stomach as the dead wander around her.

How many of them are there?

To Sophia, it seemed like hundreds, though she doubts that there were any more than fifty. 

Fifty's still a lot, she thinks, worrying her bottom lip. Fifty could tear me to pieces just as easily as a hundred could.

Sophia carefully takes in a deep breath through her mouth, not wanting to take in the putrid smell of the dead any more than she had to. A whimper escapes from her lips before she can stop it, and she slaps a hand over her mouth. She had to be silent. If Sophia made even the slightest of noises, then one of the walkers could hear her, and then they would get her. It's like with dad, she tells herself, keep quiet and don't move a muscle, and he won't find you. 

But with her dad, the worst that would happen is a few bruises, maybe a broken bone. Here the stakes are much higher, with her life at stake instead of a few mere injuries. She swallows at the thought, not wanting to think about the possibility of death any more than she had to.

She curls even tighter as more and more shuffling legs pass by her, some torn and bloody while others are cleaner. But they were walkers nonetheless. Slowly, the dead wove their way through the maze of broken down cars, shuffling aimlessly in search of fresh meat, low growls, hisses, and groans escaping from their dead, rotted faces. 

When will they go away?

The wave of walkers seems never ending, ambling past without any hurry. Watching them stumble past is an agonizing process, and every time one of them bumps into the car she's hidden under, she ends up clenching Eliza's doll even tighter, fearing that they might find her. Looking at them now, hidden underneath an old broken car, Sophia can see why the adults call them walkers, with the way that they shuffle and stumble and wander around, not in any sort of hurry. It's creepy how they move, never running, never actively looking for food, they just keep walking.

Weirdly enough, this scares her much more than her dad ever could hope to. At least with her dad, she knew he wouldn't kill her, maybe bruise her or break a bone or two, but here? Here things were different. Here she could die. 

She glances over, catching Carl's eye from where he's hidden underneath a different car a little ways away. He looks just as scared as she feels, which is saying something because Sophia is absolutely terrified. More so than she has ever been in her entire life. Another few walkers stumble into view, blocking Carl from her sight. Her heart clenches, and it takes everything within her not to cry out.

I just want them to leave. I want it to be over.  

The words repeat themselves over and over in Sophia's mind like a broken record, and she squeezes her eyes shut, drawing in a raggedy breath. She clutches Eliza's doll even tighter against her chest, burrowing her nose into the familiar wool. 

Just make them go away. Please!

But no matter how much she wishes, prays, and pleads, the walkers continue to shuffle past, seemingly never ending. She knows better than to expect otherwise, too. It's something she learned long ago, since before she could walk. She had long ago accepted that no amount of wishing would change her dad, would make him stop being so angry all the time, that nothing would make him any kinder. That the only way for Sophia and her mother to get free from him was death.

And eventually, death is just what came for them, for him. It just hadn't come in the form she had first expected. 

Death came in the form of shambling corpses, it came in the form of dead cannibals, it came in the form of total chaos and destruction. Death came for the entire world, and no amount of wishing could change that either.

Sophia opens her eyes, warily blinking as she glances at the road around her. She does a doubletake, jerking her head as she looks around -- there isn't a single pair of rotted legs in sight. 

The walkers are gone.

She glances over to where Carl is. She can see him now that there are no walkers to block him from view. He meets her eyes from where he's hidden, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He's noticed the same thing as she has.

We can get up now.

Sophia tucks Eliza's doll under her arm and slides out from underneath the car. She's just made a move to climb to her feet when a snarl from behind the car she had been hiding under quickly catches her attention, turning her blood straight to ice. 

Not all of them had gone away after all.

Sophia let out a scream as the walker lurches forward, and she dives back under the truck, scooting backward to try and get as far away from the walker as possible. The walker fell to the ground, arms reaching for her as she tries to keep herself far away from its reaching, rotted hands. 

She rolls onto her side, pulling herself up with her eyes pinned onto the forest on her other side. She crawls out from under the car, a mix of fear, adrenaline, and determination flowing through her.

She slides down the hill, getting back to her feet and runs for the forest, not even thinking as she passes through the treeline. She can hear something roll down the hill moments later, followed by another groan and loud thud -- and a spike of fear rolls down her spine -- making her run even faster into the shrubbery.

Sophia glances back, a cry of fear escaping her lips at the sight of the two walkers now pursuing her. She jumps over a large root that is sticking out of the ground. Gasping and darting through the expanse of trees that is stretched out in front of her. Her chest burns, and her lungs ache with the effort of her run, but she forces herself to keep moving, images of what happened at their old camp flashing through her mind, reminding her just what would happen if she stopped -- even for a second. She would be ripped apart. 

Sophia staggers, falling to her knees as she trips over another tree root. She manages to catch herself on her hands and begins to pull herself back up. Sophia glances back at the walkers, now closer than they had been before, and inhales sharply, darting forward only to run right into a warm body. Sophia lets out a shriek of fear, panic flaring through her as she tries to pull away. Instead of feeling a pair of rotted teeth start digging into her flesh, she hears a gentle shushing and looks up, her body immediately losing almost all of its tension upon seeing it was only Mr. Grimes.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Grimes asks, looking both frazzled and out of breath. He gives a small shake of his head, looking her over frantically -- looking for any signs of bites or scratches. "Are you okay?!"

Without responding to his question, Sophia lunges forward in his arms, too panicked to be thinking clearly, her hands reaching for the gun tucked away in his belt. "Shoot them!"

He pulls her away from his gun with relative ease on his part. "No. No! Those walkers on the road would hear it-" he says to her in a quiet voice, "-then there wouldn't be just two of them, there would be hundreds." The sound of bushes rustling and a twig snapping not too far away causes Mr. Grimes to look over her shoulder. Sophia glances over as well, letting out a squeak of fear at the sight of the two walkers still heading their way. "Come here, come on,” he urges gently, lifting her up into his arms, stumbling somewhat as he starts running in the opposite direction. 

Sophia curls up in his arms, peering over her shoulder and whimpering at the sight of the two groaning walkers still right on their tail. She hugs Eliza's doll close to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to calm her rapid breathing. She can tell that it's taking everything in Mr. Grimes not to collapse right there and then. Carl had said it was because he is still recovering from his coma. But either way, it makes Sophia feel terribly guilty. 

Oh, why did she have to get out from under the car so soon? If Sophia had just waited a few more seconds, then she would have seen the walkers and have stayed put. She should have just waited for her mother to come and get her -- like she always said to do when her dad got drunk. Stay put until someone says otherwise. That's all she had to do, and because she didn't do it, she and Mr. Grimes were both here! If he died because of her... Sophia swallows down the lump in her throat, arms tightening around Eliza's doll.

Mr. Grimes pulls to a stop, leaning down so Sophia could slide out from his arms. Sophia does so reluctantly, instantly missing the sense of safety that being in Mr. Grimes' arms brought to her. It, in a way, is reminiscent of the way her mother held her. Almost fatherly. Or at least, Sophia thinks it is. It's not like she has much experience with what fatherly is supposed to be like. But if she has to pick a feeling to describe it, that would be it.  

"All right, just hold here," Mr. Grimes says as she finds her footing, "you stay there-" he pauses "-wait." He darts forward, jumping down into a shallow creek. Sophia hesitantly follows, eyeing the water nervously. She really hopes it isn't too deep. She can't swim all that well -- Mom never had the money to buy her lessons, and her dad always said it would be a waste of money.

Mr. Grimes turns around, the water splashing at his feet. "Come on." He reaches out his arms, and Sophia jumps down, wrapping her arms around his neck. He carries her over to the far side of the creek, putting her down by a small alcove. Water seeps into her shoes, but the terror she's feeling is much too great for her to really care. 

Mr. Grimes grabs her sides, leaning down to get at eye-level. "Sophia, you have to do exactly as I say," his tone is serious, and Sophia nods rapidly. Mr. Grimes motions toward the alcove. "Hide in there. Squeeze in tight. I'll draw them away from you."

"No, no, don't leave me." She pleads, her eyes widening with fear. The terror from before starts coursing through her veins once more. Her throat seems to close up, her heart twisting in her chest, and her breathing becoming ragged as tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"Listen, listen, listen, listen -- they don't get winded. I do. I can only deal with them one at a time. I wouldn't be able to protect you." Mr. Grimes is trying his best to calm her, but none of his words can soothe the rapid beating of her heart. Regardless, she nods, trying to blink away the tears in her eyes.

Mr. Grimes grabs her face in between his hands, ducking his head to catch her eye. "This is how we both survive. You understand?"

She closes her eyes, hiccupping as she nods. Rick nods himself, pushing her toward the alcove. "Okay? Go, go, go, go."

She darts into the shadowy alcove, pressing herself as much as she could against the wall. Mr. Grimes takes a few steps back before leaning down, hands on his knees. "If I don't make it back, run back to the highway. Back to the others straight the way we came. Keep the sun on your left shoulder." He gently touches his hand to his own shoulder, giving her a strained smile.

The rustling of bushes makes the both of them tense up. Mr. Grimes straightens up, and Sophia lets out a quiet squeak of terror as the groans of a walker makes its way to her ears. She flinches as Mr. Grimes smacks his hand into the water, sending a wave of droplets high into the air. 

"Come on!" Mr. Grimes yells, "you ugly son of a bitch. Come on!" She slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes widening as a walker falls into the water in front of her, pulling itself to its feet slowly, it's waterlogged limbs bringing it down.

The walker doesn't even notice Sophia. Growling and groaning and snapping its teeth in rapid succession as it stumbles toward Mr. Grimes, who has disappeared from Sophia's view. She listens as it sloshes through the water, listening until she can't hear any of them any longer. 

She slowly removes her hand from her mouth. "Mr... Mr. Grimes?" She calls out hesitantly, her eyes wide as fear bubbles up in her belly.

There's no response.

She's all alone.

Sophia doesn't know how long she stays there for. She just waits and waits, and waits -- shaking violently like a leaf from a mix of fear and adrenaline -- for Mr. Grimes to come back for her, for him to bring her back to the safety of the group, for him to bring her right back into her mother's arms. She remains in that small alcove by the creek for what feels like centuries, panic slowly overtaking every bit of her body as the seconds gradually begin to tick by. 

I want my Mom, I want to go home.

She wraps her stick-thin arms tight around her midsection, lips quivering and breathing shaky as she tries and fails to calm her rapidly beating heart down to a reasonable level. Her fingers tighten around the arm of the doll that Eliza had gifted her, and she squeezes her eyes shut, curling in on herself in an attempt to try and make herself as small as possible so the walkers wouldn't find her. She doubts it would ever work, seeing as the walkers would probably just smell her. But she's alone, and she's scared, and she didn't know what else to do, and it's the best thing she can think of at the moment, so she did it anyway.

She presses herself even deeper into the soil and earth hanging around her, taking in a deep breath and starts counting. Something that Mom always told her to do whenever she's afraid -- or her dad had gotten angry about something -- or both. Keep yourself distracted. Then you won't be so scared anymore.

Needless to say, it's not working.

Maybe, she manages to think through the haze of fear engulfing her mind. It's because this is an actual life or death situation. Where I could actually die if I do even the slightest thing wrong.

That's probably it.

The tips of her old and worn sneakers that are much too small for her feet are only just grazing the murky surface of the creek's water. The shoes are already soaked, but she wants them to dry as fast as they possibly can; soggy shoes are never any fun. The water isn't cold exactly, seeing as it's a pretty warm day out, and the sun's rays had already heated the water a significant amount, but that means absolutely nothing to Sophia. Wet shoes are wet shoes, and there are no exceptions. No matter how warm or how cold the water may or may not be, soggy shoes are always uncomfortable, and that is the only thing that counts.

At least it's better than having no shoes.

She shifts slightly, wrinkling her nose as she tugs her doll even closer to her chest. The water reeks a whole lot, and a part of Sophia wonders if the walkers who had chased her had brought the smell here to the creek with them; they all smell pretty bad -- all rotted and gross -- so she wouldn't be too surprised if they had. The stench kind of reminds her of how her dad's breath used to smell whenever he had been drinking recently. Which had been pretty much all the time. Sophia hates that smell with a fiery passion -- but then again, she hates pretty much everything and anything that reminds her of her dad. Especially since the quarry. 

Honestly, all she wants to do is forget about him and find her way back into her mother's arms, who is probably worried sick all the way back on the highway with the rest of the group.

Slowly with her body still trembling, Sophia moves one of her hands over her mouth, covering it up as best as she could so she didn't hold the risk of gagging or, even worse, throwing up. Things like that would only draw attention to her -- and not the good kind either. And currently, that is the last thing Sophia wants or needs at the moment. She isn't about to lead a walker to her hiding spot just because she couldn't handle the smell of something. 

Sophia's already done enough of that with her dad. 

And she has the scars to show for it too.

She rubs at one of the scars on her arm, grimacing as she stares down at it. She forces herself to look away, curling in on herself even more as she tries to push all thoughts of her father far, far away: into the deep, dark, depths of her mind where they should never be found again.

Her heart is beating loudly like a thousand mini drums, drowning out the sounds of the forest around her. She can hear the sounds of a walker groaning in the distance, and the noise only causes her to flinch back and clutch her doll even tighter to her chest. She wonders if it's one of the same walkers that chased her down from the highway, one of the walkers that forced her away from her mother. She really hopes it isn't because that would mean that something had happened to Mr. Grimes while he'd been distracting the two of them. So Sophia really, really hopes that it's not the case. She likes Mr. Grimes, -- he's nice to her, he didn't yell or scream like Mr. Walsh, and many others did. Mr. Grimes is much better than her own father could ever be, so she hopes that he's okay.

After what feels like another dozen hours of waiting in the alcove, Sophia's muscles begin to cramp up. After another few minutes, it becomes unbearable, and Sophia finally decides to start moving. Mr. Grimes isn't coming back for her anytime soon, that much is obvious, and he had told her to try and make her way back to the highway if he hadn't yet come back for her. So that is just what she's going to do. 

Hesitantly, she slips her feet back into the water, cringing with disgust as it immediately begins filling her shoes. So much for keeping them dry. She thinks, rubbing her arms.

She takes a few steps forward -- the murky water sloshing grossly around her ankles as she moves -- and pokes her head out from her hiding place. She looks around anxiously, and upon not seeing anyone or anything at first glance, takes another step forward. Her heart is lodged deep in her throat, and she takes in a choked breath, terror slowly overcoming her as she emerges reluctantly from her spot. There are no walkers, thankfully, and she allows herself a quick moment of relief before she tucks her doll back under her arm, inching toward the edge of the creek and grasping for a hold on the slippery dirt.

She struggles for a little bit before she finally manages to get a good hold and pull herself up to the top of the small slope. She heaves a sigh of relief, holding her doll to her chest as she begins to walk through the looming forest. Sophia walks because she knows that running will only make her tired, and she figures that it's better to conserve what little energy she still has left in her. Just in case. Running also makes a lot of noise, and from what she's gathered so far, walkers are attracted to pretty much any noise that they hear, and the last thing Sophia needs is to have even more walkers on her tail. She didn't really think that she would be able to outrun any more of them at this rate.

Can't or won't?

She shakes away the unwanted thought, taking a small step forward. And then another, and then another. She walks, and walks, and walks, and walks, her eyes darting around nervously as she starts her trek back in the supposed direction of the highway. Keep the sun on your left shoulder. That had been what Mr. Grimes said to do. But how long is she supposed to do that for? How did she know if she went the wrong way?

Sophia bites her lip, not liking where her current train of thought is going. She stumbles over a root, crying out in pain as her knees hit the rocky ground. Sophia pulls herself up, whimpering at the sight of the blood that now oozed from multiple cuts on her leg. She reaches down, brushing the dirt from the scratches and hissing in pain as her fingers graze over a particularly bad one. 

She's so caught up in the pain that she almost didn't hear the sound of twigs snapping behind her until it's nearly too late.

She hears a groan and whirls around at the last second, coming face to face with a walker only a few feet away from her. It stumbles forward, reaching out for her with its jaws snapping as it leans in. Another loud groan escapes from it, turning her blood to ice.

It's hungry, and Sophia is on the menu.

She lets out a loud shriek as the walker lurches forward, determined to get to her. She stumbles, falling onto her back as she desperately begins scrambling backward as fast as she could, trying to put as much distance between her and the walker as possible. The thing growls at her, teeth snapping, and Sophia manages to pull herself to her feet. 

Sophia didn't waste a single second once she got onto her feet. Tears in her eyes, Sophia turns and starts running into the trees, urging her legs to go as fast as they can go. Sophia didn't even spare a single moment to ponder about where she's going, didn't consider the fact that she has no idea where she is in this forest. The only thoughts on her mind are that she needs to get far away from this walker and get back to her mother. With her mother -- Sophia would be safe.

The bugs were buzzing in the hard sun. Everything is passing by in a blur -- the branches, leaves, and brambles hitting her skin as she darts through the thick foliage. A sharp pain tore through her foot, and she stumbles, nearly toppling over a root of some kind and only just managing to keep herself upright. It was a good thing she had too, as another walker stumbled out from the bushes moments later -- groaning loudly, it's sickly-yellow eyes lifeless and blank. She almost didn't manage to move away from it, ducking her head with its rotted, grasping hands just barely grazing her ear.

Her vision spun as she ran, and her foot is now throbbing with pain. But she continues running through the thick shrubbery, continues running through the colorful green brambles, leaves, and bushes: each of them leaving behind a cut on her already scratched up skin. But she didn't care -- all that she cares about is getting away from the walkers and back into her mother's gentle and loving arms. 

So Sophia runs, runs, and runs. She runs until she can't run for a moment longer.

She skids to a halt midstep, nearly falling over. She turns and starts glancing around, confused. It's only then that she realizes that she can't hear the walkers chasing her anymore. Did she lose them?

She hopes she did.

She squints, jerking her head around, trying to regain her bearings. She's in a clearing of some sort, only a few thin trees scattered around the area. The grass is long and scratchy, coming up to her knees and tickling her skin. With a frown, she lifts a foot, grimacing at the sight of the mud, blood, and grime that now covers it -- she then lets out a sigh, dropping her foot back down to the ground and hugging her thin arms around her chest before suddenly realizing that something's missing. Eliza's doll -- Sophia didn't have it with her anymore. She must have dropped it some time while she had been running.

The realization makes her lip start to quiver, and her eyes begin to burn. She scowls, reaching up a hand to rub at her eyes. She shouldn't be crying over a doll of all things. It's stupid to do that. That's what all the kids at school would have said. What her dad would have said.

But... Eliza had given it to her.

And she had lost it...

Sophia didn't even bother stopping the tears that start falling after that.

Chapter Text

It's official.

Sophia is lost.

She is lost, alone, hungry, cold, and very, very afraid. Sophia had gotten way off track when she had gotten chased by those walkers earlier, something she had realized only minutes after she had gotten away from them, and now Sophia is lost with no idea on how to get back to the highway. Lost with no idea how to get back to her mom and the rest of the group where she would be safe and sound. 

It's getting darker now, having been hours since she's gotten separated from the group, and the air is only getting colder. It's only a matter of time before night falls, and Sophia is not looking forward to that whatsoever. 

She shifts around in her place, her already nervous heartbeat picking up. The air seems to be getting windier and colder with every second that passes, not at all like the late summer humidity of Georgia that she had felt earlier that morning. It scares her, and she wishes that she had some kind of blanket or sweater with her to keep warm. But right now, all Sophia has with her is her torn up shirt and pants that hung loosely around her body -- she didn't even have Eliza's doll anymore...

Sophia doesn't think that she's ever been this scared in her life. Not even when her father had been drunk -- raging and screaming at her or her mom. At least then she knew he wouldn't kill any of them. But here? In the middle of the woods with no one there to protect her? Anything could find her and pick her off -- more than just the walkers. Though the walkers are, without a doubt, what Sophia is most worried about at the moment.

She just wants her mom. That's all she wants -- all she needs. She wants to feel her mother's arms wrap around her, engulfing her into a tight embrace and never letting her go. Sophia bites back a whimper, feeling her face heat as even more tears begin trickling down her face.

Sophia wraps her arms around each other, hugging her chest to try and fight off the cold. Needless to say, it doesn't do much. With her thin shirt and pants with all sorts of rips and tears in them, the cold seeps in anyway. A shiver goes down her spine, and her eyes dart around nervously. She wonders where her mom is -- if she and the rest of the group are still on the highway. Or did they just leave her? Did they think that she is dead already? Or did they just not want to waste their time looking for her? The helpless little girl who had been stupid enough to get herself lost in a forest filled with walkers.

She stands in the same place for several more minutes, glancing around nervously and trying to peer through the trees for any possible clue on which direction she should go. But it's to no avail. All she can see are trees, trees, and more trees. Her only comfort as of now is that she can't see any walkers. Or bears. Do bears even live in Georgia?

Sophia doesn't know, and she doesn't particularly care much either. She just wants to find her way back to her mom. With her mom, Sophia would be safe -- as safe as once can be in a world like this one, but safe nonetheless.

Sophia takes in a shaky breath, eyes darting around the forest surrounding her once again, body trembling from a mix of fear, adrenaline, and cold. Her arms tighten around her chest, and she swallows down the steadily growing lump in her throat. Sophia takes a hesitant step forward, letting out a cry as pain shoots up her ankle, and she stumbles. Sophia then slaps a hand over her mouth, regaining her footing and trying to will away the tears now burning in her eyes.

She didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit.

She just wants her mom. She wants to be anywhere but here.

What did she do to deserve this?

Sophia slowly removes her hand from her mouth, looking down and gently rolling her ankle. She cringes when another spark of pain flares up in it, but it doesn't hurt enough to be broken or twisted -- and she knows what broken bones felt like. So Sophia probably just bruised or pulled a muscle. At least something is working out for her. 

Sophia looks up from her ankle, glancing around at the forest around her. The trees tower over her -- looming high above her head in an intimidating manner. She swallows nervously, rubbing her arms. It's almost pitch black now, and she knows it will only be a matter of time before she can't see a single thing.

She does not want to be here when that happens.

She's heard a few of the adults talking about the walkers getting more active at night. She doesn't know whether it's true or not, and she really doesn't want to be around to find out if it is. Because those walkers that had been chasing her in broad daylight had been scary enough: so no, she doesn't really want to imagine what walkers at night would be like. It doesn't really help that at night, everything is really dark. Meaning that anyone or anything can sneak up on you without you realizing, and that, unfortunately, includes walkers.

She takes a slow step forward, careful not to go too heavily on her bruised ankle. She takes another step, and then another, going further into the darkening forest in the direction that she can only hope is the right one. She glances anxiously up at the sky -- which is now a mix of dark blue, purple, and a few hints of orange and yellow. In any other situation, she might have been admiring how beautiful the array of colors look, but now, all she can feel is dread. She's terrified about what might happen if she doesn't find a shelter soon.

Maybe she can hide in a tree? Sophia peers up at some of the closest ones, trying to figure out if climbing one of them is a good idea or not. She isn't really the best of climbers, but she has done it occasionally, and yet, never has she climbed trees this big. And never has Sophia tried doing it in the dark. But walkers can't climb trees, so if she manages to get high enough in one where they won't be able to reach her, then she would be safe!

Sophia pauses, a new hope now churning inside her. If she stays in a tree, then that means she will be safe enough that she could risk getting some sleep, and not only that but maybe in the morning, Sophia might be able to find her mom! 

Sophia starts scanning the trees around her, trying to figure out which one will be the easiest to climb. They are all quite tall -- enough so to be intimidating -- but as Sophia draws nearer to a few of them, she can easily see some spots that she could potentially use to pull herself up.

She walks up to one of the trees, peering up at it through narrowed eyes. She does a quick look around and then returns her gaze to the tree. Sophia catches sight of the lowest branch pretty quickly. It's high enough that she can't reach even on her tippy toes, but if she jumps high enough, she might be able to grab hold of it and pull herself up. Then things will only be a matter of not falling out of the tree and splitting her head open.

With a stable plan now in mind, Sophia jumps up, fingers only just skimming the branch she is aiming for. A quiet yelp escapes from her lips, and she falls back to the ground, her ankle giving a small twinge of pain. Sophia pulls herself back up to her feet, eyes narrowing in determination. Bunching up her muscles, she jumps again. This time, her fingers manage to close around the base of the branch. She gasps, swinging slightly from her momentum but otherwise holding on with an iron grip.

She dangles from the branch for a few moments. Then, she reaches up her other hand, fingers curling around the base of it. Sophia then scrunches up her face, swinging from her spot and trying desperately to pull herself up. She manages to get a few inches up, only for her arms to start screaming in protest from the attempt.

Sophia sighs, deciding to use a different tactic instead. She swings one of her legs up, placing it against the base of the tree. Then, she does the same for the other once, cringing from the pain it causes but otherwise managing to get it in place. Sophia hangs there like that, her muscles burning from the effort and her breathing heavy. She can only imagine how she would look if somewhere were to walk over at this moment -- she feels kind of like a monkey doing this.

Sophia inches her injured foot up slightly before lunging up, managing to wrap both her arms around the spot where her hands just were. Then, she swings her foot up, curling it around the beginning of the branch where it's the thickest. She quickly does the same with the other one, starting to feel a bit more like a koala than a monkey.

Slowly but surely, Sophia manages to inch her way up the branch until she is sitting on instead of hanging from it. Her legs dangle down, still much too close to the ground for her liking. So, after taking a few seconds to catch her breath, she places a hand on the tree trunk, digging her fingers into the bark to get a good hold. She then does the same with her other hand, finding a good grip on the tree before finally starting to pull herself up.

Getting into a standing position while sitting on something that is hardly even wide enough to sit on is just as hard as it sounds, and Sophia nearly falls several times before she actually manages to do it correctly. The branch wobbles slightly from under her weight, and Sophia swallows down the lump in her throat.

Instead, she focuses her attention on one of the branches jutting out from the tree a little ways above her. Sophia will have to jump to get to this one too. Just like the branch she is standing on -- it is much too high for her to reach doing anything else. Even if she goes on her tippy toes, she won't be able to grab it.

So, once again -- mustering up all the strength she can gather at the moments, lunges up. For a second, she believes she won't be able to grab it, and her stomach drops, but then she hooks an arm around it, successfully managing to stay in the tree. Sophia swings around for a little bit, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heat. But she puts a stop to that as soon as she succeeds in wrapping both her arms and legs around it as she had before -- again bringing out her koala side, as Sophia already nicknamed it. 

Seeing as Sophia is now entirely out of reach from any walkers who may catch wind of her trail, she allows herself a few minutes of rest, simply hanging from the tree branch as she regains tidbits of her strength. Gradually, she does the same thing she did before, slowly inching up until she is once again seated on the branch -- which is wider than the last, and therefore much less painful to sit on. Sophia stares down at the forest floor, hardly believing that she already managed to climb this high. 

Just wait until she tells Mom about this!

A part of her just wants to sit there until the sun rises again. Or until someone in her group finds her -- if they're even out there looking. But Sophia decides, in the end, to climb further up the tree. By the time she finds herself a cluster of branches near the top of the tree to settle in, darkness has fully settled on the forest. She can hardly even see a foot in front of her anymore, the canopy of leaves above blocking out any light that the moon and stars may try to bring.

Still, she feels so much safer up here than she had on the ground. She still misses her mom, and she still misses the warm bed she had shared with her back in the RV, but this will have to do for now. It's better than sleeping on the ground, where any walker or animal could just stumble upon her whenever. She would take this over sleeping down there anytime, no matter how uncomfortable the various branches underneath her may be. 

Finally, after running around the forest for the past few hours trying to make her way back to her mom, Sophia manages to relax. She has only just realized how tired she is, and Sophia doesn't find it in her to fight to keep her eyelids open. Slowly, she lets her eyes flutter shut, breathing in long, deep breaths as sleep gradually begins to take over.

And then, the whole world goes dark.

Surprisingly, Sophia doesn't end up falling out of a tree while asleep.

She blinks open her eyes, a quiet yawn escaping her lips as she takes in the shadowy world around her. Her head pounds with an almost unbearable ache, and her mouth is unbelievably dry. She feels a crick in her neck from sleeping wrong, and her stomach screams at her, having not anything since yesterday afternoon.

Sophia winds an arm around her stomach, wincing as it aches and churns. When was the last time she'd eaten anything, anyway? She remembers Mrs. Grimes passing her and Carl a few granola bars as snacks while in the car a few minutes before they stopped at the highway, but she can't quite recall if she had anything after that.

Sophia pulls herself into a sitting position, grimacing as her body aches with every movement. Her head spins as she takes a look around, running a hand through her short, blonde hair before resting a hand on her forehead, rubbing circles onto it as Mom always said to do whenever she got headaches. As her headache clears somewhat, Sophia can focus a little bit more. She can hear all sorts of noises going on in the background now -- birds singing, bugs buzzing, and frogs croaking. It's like the whole forest had decided to wake up at the exact same time.

She stretches her arms, letting them arch high above her head. Muscles ache and burn, and her joints pop, and a displeased grimace paints her face. Another yawn then escapes from her mouth, and she blinks sleepily, glancing around. The world around her is bright enough for her to actually see now too. Which is something that Sophia counts as a win.

There is a bitter chill hanging in the air, so Sophia can tell that it's sometime in the morning. Around six or seven A.M if she had to make a guess, but she has never been good with telling time without a clock, so she honestly has no clue. It's her best estimate, so she kind of just rolls with it. 

Sophia moves slowly, fingers curling around the branches as he finds her balance. It won't be any good for her if she ends up falling out, after all. 

Sophia peers down at the forest floor far below, eyes going wide when she realizes just how high she had climbed the night before. No wonder Sophia is so sore! She isn't even sure how she had managed to climb this high last night. Sophia has to be at least fifty feet up! Well, maybe not fifty, but still, she's pretty high up.

Sophia swallows nervously; how am I supposed to get back down? Climbing up had been easy enough, but climbing back down -- especially when she is already so high up? That just seems so... impossible. Not to mention really, really, really, scary. What if she loses her grip and falls down? There would be no way for her to survive a fall like that...

Maybe she can stay up here until somebody finds her and helps her down? But who knows how long that might take! Hours, days, weeks -- she doesn't have the time or supplies to wait more than a few hours up here.

Sophia worries her bottom lip in between her teeth, weighing her options. Then, her stomach sends another jolt of pain through her torso, and her decision is made. She can't stay up here any longer -- no matter how safe it is. She needs food, water, and a weapon or two if she is going to get back to the highway. Maybe even a map, and she can't get those things if she stays up here in this tree.

She pokes her head back over the side of the tree again, peering down at the trunk to look for a decent place that can help start off what will no doubt be a long climb down. There are a few places -- little bumps and holes all around the bark -- that she can use as footstools of some kind. The nearest branch at this point isn't far away either. If she gets to that one without any trouble, then the climb down from there should be relatively easy.

So, as slowly as she can, Sophia turns her body around, inching and easing her way down as carefully as possible. Her heart thunders in her chest, and she takes in a long, deep breath, determination coursing through her veins. She doesn't dare look down, knowing that it will only make things harder if she even attempts to do something like that.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sophia manages to get to the first branch. She wraps her fingers around it, a small laugh escaping her lips. From that point on, it's only a matter of dropping down to the nearest branch and not falling and cracking her head open. It's kind of like going down a ladder, only with tree branches instead.

Eventually, Sophia decides to risk looking down to see just how far down the tree she really is. Her arms are getting super duper tired now, and she is already really sore as it is, and her grip is getting weaker with every passing second. Thankfully, the drop down isn't very high anymore, only a few feet. So, taking in another deep breath, Sophia squeezes her eyes shut and, mustering up all the courage she can find, lets go.

She falls on her back with a loud yelp, and her already sore muscles start screeching in pain. But despite this, nothing seems to be broken, so Sophia staggers to her feet. She then winds an arm around her side, which is now, without a doubt, bruised from the fall. Maybe jumping down like that wasn't that good of an idea after all. Oh well, she's already done it, so it's not like she can change her mind now.

Sophia glances around, taking a good look at her surroundings like she had seen Mr. Grimes and Mr. Walsh do. Maybe it's a police officer thing -- Sophia doesn't know. She wishes she can ask now, but she can't. What Sophia can do, however, is be observant. That's what Mr. Grimes and Mr. Walsh did, and she is going to have to be that way now as well if she wants to get back to them -- if she wants to get out of this forest alive.

So she starts walking. She walks, and walks, and walks, and walks into the direction she had been going before she had climbed up the tree, her determination fueling her. She is going to get back to Mom. She is going to get back to Carl. She is going to get back to the rest of the group. Back to the highway, and nothing in this godforsaken world is going to stop her. Not even a bunch of walking corpses who don't seem to understand the meaning of staying dead -- she isn't going to let this world take her as it has already done with so many others.

She walks for what feels like an eternity, and her head begins spinning again with every step. Her stomach aches and churns, and her vision begins to blur as her head starts to pound. Sophia wipes her tongue across her lips, trying to get some moisture onto them with little avail. She's so thirsty! Sophia doesn't think that she's ever felt this horrible in her entire life -- even after a beating from her father.

Absently, she reaches a hand to scratch at one of the old scars her father had left before his untimely demise. It's a burn scar, a cigarette burn to be more specific. She has a lot of them on her arms despite her mom's best attempts to keep her away from her father's attention. As her fingers graze over the old scar, it only makes Sophia more relieved that her father had finally gotten what was coming for him. In such a painful way, too. She doesn't even feel a shred of remorse for thinking that way -- the bastard had deserved it in the end.

The forest floor seems to be swaying underneath her feet, and Sophia stumbles, her body tipping from side to side. She blinks slowly, her body growing heavier with every step. She needs to find something to eat or drink soon. And fast. She doesn't think she'll be able to last long out here if she just ends up collapsing in the middle of a forest filled with walkers from dehydration or hunger or something like that. Heck, if a walker came at her right now, Sophia doesn't even think she'd be able to muster enough energy to run away from it even if she wants to. 

Sophia pushes a pair of low hanging branches out of her face as she struggles to keep herself from collapsing into the dirt. 

A little while longer, Sophia tells herself, just walk for a little bit longer, and you can rest. She takes in a ragged breath, nearly tripping over a rock. She stumbles but manages to regain her footing pretty quickly, and therefore, does not fall. Lucky for her too, seeing how rocky and uneven the ground is. She does not need any more scratches or scrapes than she already has, thank you very much.

And besides, if she fell, Sophia isn't sure if she'd be able to even pull herself back up afterward.

Through the hundreds of trees ahead of her, Sophia catches a glimpse of something shiny in the foliage. She pauses before starting forward again, faster this time. As she draws nearer, she realizes that it's a knife. Sophia blinks, confused. Why would there just be a random knife lying around here?

It seems her answer is up ahead. Sophia picks up the knife, stumbling forward a few feet before pulling to a halt at the edge of a small clearing, eyes seeping over the curious scene before her. 

It looks like a campsite of some kind. Or, at least, it used to be one -- it's obviously abandoned. There's a small fire pit dug out in the middle of the clearing, and a little ways away are two hole-ridden tents and an old truck of some kind. There are two motorcycles on Sophia's left, though one of them barely seems to be holding on at this point. Next to the motorcycles is a ratty bag, Sophia just about misses the old thing, but then she catches sight of a tip of a water bottle peeking out.

She practically lunges forward, falling to her knees beside the bag and snatching up the water bottle. There are two more in the bag, and Sophia nearly cries tears of joy. She drains the first one in seconds, taking in greedy gulps as the liquid trickles down her throat. The water is warm, but Sophia can hardly give a damn, simply relieved to be able to ease the pounding in her head and the dryness in her throat somewhat. She snatches up the other two water's hesitating for a brief moment before taking the bag too, dumping the plastic water bottles inside. 

Sophia straightens up, taking a good look around at the rest of the camp. She takes a quick peek in the truck, finding nothing but dust, then her eyes land on the tents, and she decides to take a look inside those too. Just in case there's something useful inside.

The first one doesn't hold anything of use inside. There are a few empty alcohol bottles that Sophia immediately smashes to bits, a couple cigarette packs that she kicks into the corner, and a pocketknife that has a blade the size of her pinkie. Not only that, but it is also dull enough that it looks as if it won't even leave a scratch behind -- it's pitiful, really, and Sophia kicks it into the corner with the cigarettes. The next tent, however, does hold something good inside it. There are two backpacks, both close to the entrance and look filled to the brim with stuff.

She pulls one of the packs over to her, unzipping it and taking a peek inside. Its contents are two small bottles of vodka, a couple skin mags (she recognizes them because her father used to buy them a lot before he died), another pocketknife that actually has a sharp blade, two water bottles, and three books. The other one holds more in it: two cans of peaches, one more water bottle, yet another bottle of vodka, and last but not least, a gun.

Sophia takes the gun carefully into her hands, brushing off the dirt and eyeing the weapon uncertainly. It's a different kind than the one that Mr. Grimes uses. Smaller and a different color too. It's a dark gray while Mr. Grimes' had been lighter, and it's also shorter in length. She doesn't know a lot about guns, so she digs her hand back into the backpack, surprised to find a book buried near the bottom along with what looks like a few bullets.

Sophia opens the book, realizing that it was one about guns. Both curious and excited, she flips through a few of the pages until she finds the image that matches up with the one she is holding in her hand: a 9mm, it says. The gun Sophia is holding is called a 9mm. She has no idea what the name means, but at least she has some idea of what it is.

Sophia puts the book down, eyeing the bullets that she dumped out. Are they the type of ammunition the 9mm uses? She has no clue either, but she gathers every bit of the ammo up, shoving them back into the backpack. She also packs a knife, the gun, and the water bottles all inside. 

She puts one of the cans of peaches in there as well, eating the other fairly quickly. Once she has packed all the supplies she thinks might prove useful, Sophia swings the backpack over her shoulders and ducks her head, stepping out of the tent with the other knife clenched tightly in her grip.

She pauses once she's outside, sweeping her gaze over the abandoned campsite. Then, she looks up, squinting at the bright rays of sunlight that shine down upon her. She fingers the knife that she now holds in her hand, taking in a long, deep breath.

She can do this.

She can find her mom.

She can find her group.

No -- not can -- will. Sophia will find her mom, she will find her group, and she will not let this new world bring her down. She is going to live, and she is going to thrive.

She won't allow anything else.

Chapter Text

Sophia remembers being on her own a lot of the time before the outbreak started. Outside her mom, Sophia really just never talked to anyone much at all. And even if her mom was the only one Sophia really spent time with, she didn't get to do so often. A lot of the time, her mom had been out and about trying to scrounge up enough money to buy the bare essentials for Sophia's school and things like that, and when she hadn't been doing that, she was trying to appease Sophia's father. So Sophia never really saw her all that often, especially during her school year. 

She also remembers that, after school, she would often go on long walks in the park or around town before heading back home, simply to get away from it all. Sophia usually did her walks in the park -- it had been so much quieter there, and it gave her more time to think. She would do her homework, climb a bit, eat a few snacks her mom had packed, or just wander around doing nothing in particular. It had been her way of staying away from her father, of simply relaxing without having to worry about him yelling or smacking her -- something she could never do at home.

Even when Sophia had been exhausted (emotionally and physically) after a particularly bad day at school, she would never skip her walks because they had simply become a part of her life. And while she can't remember when she started her little walks, in the end, she learns that those walks helped her build up her stamina and, in a way, had saved her life later on. She can walk for hours without needing to stop for rest, and that ends up coming in handy quite a bit after getting lost in a forest full of walkers.

The sound of her sneakers rustling through the endless shrubbery and thick brambles follow Sophia as she picks her way through the forest, trying her best to stay quiet as to not draw any unwanted attention onto her. Despite her best efforts, Sophia can't quite manage to keep her footsteps completely silent, though that certainly doesn't stop her from trying. 

These forests are a little different than the parks she had often made her treks in, though that might be because the only dangers her walks had held had been her potentially getting lost or an unexpectedly brave squirrel stealing her snacks or homework. Here, in this forest, things are different. Here there are walking corpses that are wandering around instead of squirrels that will try to take a bite out of her if she ever gives them a chance. Which, hopefully, she never will. 

The hot Georgia heat bears down on her mercilessly as she walks, and even as Sophia starts sticking to the shadows of the looming trees, she can't quite manage to stay entirely out of the boiling heat. Her shoulders begin to slump, and sweat starts trickling down the sides of her face. She tries to keep how much water she consumes to a minimum, but as a result, has the dryness in her throat from hours before return with a fiery vengeance, and with it, her pounding headache.

As she walks even further, Sophia debates whether or not she should finally take out one of her water bottles. She certainly has enough to last a while, but only if she rations them correctly. Hopefully, she won't have to do that, and she will have found her way back to her mom sometime in the next few hours and never have to deal with stuff like this again. For some reason, Sophia has severe doubts that will ever happen.

One thing the world has taught her -- even before the dead started walking -- is that things aren't fair, nor are they simple or easy. If Sophia wants to find her mom, then she has to be smart about things, but even if she is smart, there is no guarantee that she will ever lay eyes on her mom ever again. The thought causes a lump to form in her throat, but she swallows it down, willing her mind to turn to other things instead.

For example, just how thirsty she is.

Sophia heaves a small sigh at her new thought, swinging her newfound backpack over her shoulders. She places it by the base of a nearby tree, unzipping it quickly and sticking a hand inside. She rummages around for a few seconds before her fingers close around one of the plastic water bottles she had found earlier in the abandoned camp.

She eyes the bottle for a split second, noting the amount of water still left inside (a little over half) before uncapping it and taking a relatively short sip from it. Then, she puts the cap right back on, shoving the water bottle right back into her backpack. Sophia zips it back up, swinging the bag right around again and slipping the broad straps back onto her small shoulders.

Sophia then straightens back up, puffing out her cheeks and swiping a hand across her forehead, grimacing at the sweat and filth that comes off it. She feels so sticky and gross now, and with all the sweat and dirt and twigs and leaves now sticking to her, Sophia has a very, very good reason to be feeling this way. She just wishes she can have a shower or at least a bath -- she misses showers.

She starts walking again, once more without any particular route in mind. She knows that she should be trying to get back to the highway -- and she is! But Sophia honestly doesn't have a single clue about where to go to find it. So she's just picking a random direction and hoping that she's going the right way.

But Sophia isn't going to give up. After all, she had seen the aftermath of children being abandoned in the outbreak. Bloody car seats, the remains of children and babies with their insides torn out, walker children... Ones who had gotten bit the first couple of days following the outbreak. She remembers all of it, and she remembers Jim too, who had lost his entire family in Atlanta -- how he had gone insane following his whole family's death. She doesn't want that kind of fate for her mom.

So she trudges on, wandering aimlessly in the direction she had chosen to go. As Sophia looks around, she wonders if, before everything went to hell, anyone ever took any walks in this forest as she had in the parks back home. It seems like a pretty big forest, so she really doesn't know how anyone would be able to manage walking around here without getting lost while doing it.

Maybe there are trails?

If there are, then Sophia should probably try and find one. Trails always have to lead somewhere, after all, and if she can find one, then maybe she can find her way back to the highway -- back to her mom! If they are even still there, the negative voice in her mind whispers, they probably think I'm dead, and there's no use in trying to find a dead girl, right?

Sophia frowns, any remainder of her somewhat decent mood totally ruined.n so, she walks on, the heat bearing insistently down on her as she moves.

Sophia might have been walking for another hour or two when she comes across a small stream and is forced to stop. Her shoulders sag immediately after catching sight of it, relief swarming her as she darts forward to the stream, falling to her knees beside it. She cups her hands together, dipping them into the water and taking a long drink of the fresh water. 

Once she's had her fill, Sophia swings her bag around, unzipping it and pulling out each of her six water bottles. She uncaps the empty ones, refilling them with the cold river water. Then, Sophia takes out the other can of peaches still in her bag, eyeing them hesitantly for a long few moments.

Sophia knows that she should really be saving it instead of eating it, but she's already getting really, really hungry again... She bites her lip, debating her options. It's only when her stomach lets out a loud rumble does she open it. The fruit inside looks bright and fresh, making her stomach ache with hunger. She then lifts the can to her mouth, sipping slowly at the sweet, syrupy water the fruit is in. It tastes just as she remembers -- hell, better than she ever remembers. She downs the liquid in seconds, and, when she's done, Sophia briefly wishes she has a spoon with her or something, but beggars can't be choosers, so Sophia sucks it up and just eats the fruit with her hands. 

Needless to say, it's just as messy as she first expected it would be.

She takes a bite out of one of the peaches, relishing in the taste of the sweet fruit. She doesn't get the chance to have fruit all that often, so she tries savoring it. Despite her best attempts, Sophia ends up emptying most of the can within a few minutes and drains whatever remains of the syrup inside to further quench her thirst. 

Sophia sets the empty can aside, dipping her hands once more into the river to wash away the stickiness the peaches and syrup had left on her hands. She dries off her hands on her already dirty shirt, leaning back as she begins to pack the rest of her things up. She needs to get moving before any walkers find her.

As if on cue, a bird in a nearby tree gives a shriek of alarm, flapping off in quite a rush.

Sophia whirls around, fingers fumbling for one of the knives she has with her. She pulls herself to her feet, eyeing the forest around her warily. Sophia can hear the faint crunching of leaves under soft footsteps and the sound of low breathing steadily getting closer. Movement catches her eye from somewhere to her right, and she turns in that direction, catching sight of something half-hidden in the bushes.

With her heart pounding, she takes a slow step forward, her knuckles turning white from how tightly she's holding the knife. Sophia doesn't think she'll be all that prepared to deal with a walker. Go for its head -- she already knows that, but how is Sophia supposed to reach its head? Most walkers are like, so much bigger than she is! And not only that, but Sophia has no idea how to use the gun she's found yet. Should she run? She should probably run.

But before she can make a decision, a low, pitiful whimper sounds from somewhere in the direction of the movement. Wait a minute, walkers don't whimper, they growl!

Sophia pauses, and then, after a few seconds, straightens up. She stays like that for another few seconds -- uncertainty tainting her every movement before, slowly but surely starting to edge toward the clump of foliage where the whimper had first come from. Her eyes dart toward the treeline every few seconds, every muscle in her body tense and ready to bolt. 

As she nears, however, she catches sight of a pair of floppy ears and a tiny snout. Sophia's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and all the tension in her body immediately seeps out. She takes another couple steps closer, a small smile spreading across her lips at the sight of a dog lying in the dirt -- a puppy, really.

But what's a puppy doing here?

Sophia cocks her head, trying to come up with a suitable answer to her question. When she is unable to find one, she kneels down, extending a hand to the obviously terrified puppy. "Hey there, puppy," Sophia says in the kindest voice she can muster, a little surprised at how hoarse it now sounds. "What are you doing out here?"

Realistically, Sophia knows that the dog can't talk, and therefore cannot answer her question. But she doesn't really care -- it feels nice to even have something to talk to, even if they couldn't answer back.

Apparently, the sound of her voice seems to have some sort of effect on the puppy. The small thing lets out a high-pitched bark -- head perking up and, before Sophia can even realize what's happening, she's being licked enthusiastically by the tiniest, squirmiest ball of fluff that she's ever seen in her life. Not to mention reaaaaaaally dirty. 

Sophia lets out a startled laugh, falling flat onto her bum as the puppy practically leaps into her arms. She hugs the puppy tightly to her chest, burying her nose into its fur despite the grime covering it as it wriggles in her arms. The last time she's seen a dog was sometime before the outbreak started, and the last time she's pet one even longer, so she doesn't hesitate to pet the tiny creature now curled up in her arms.

When she finally manages to pull away from the puppy's slobbery attack, Sophia is giggling up a storm. She holds the still squirming puppy in her lap, trying to keep it from leaping at her once more, as it is clearly yearning to do.

Now that she can finally get a better look, Sophia realizes that there's a thin, red collar around the puppy's neck along with a muddy tag dangling from it. So this dog had belonged to someone at one point, that makes sense. Why else would it be so happy to see another person? Judging by how thin the dog is, it's clearly been out here for quite a while. Sophia tries not to wonder why the puppy had been all alone out here in the first place -- about where it's owners had gone. The more she thinks about it, the more she has a feeling she knows just what had happened.

Sophia reaches out, delicately taking the dog's tag in her hand. With her thumb, she wipes away the mud covering it, squinting somewhat so she can read the name. After a few seconds, Sophia is able to make out the name carved into the metal: "Kiwi." That meant the dog is a girl then, right? Kiwi sounds like a girl's name, or at least, kind of like one.

Sophia lifts the puppy up somewhat.

Oh, yeah, definitely a girl.

"Aren't you a cutie!" Sophia coos, grinning widely, "Good girl, Kiwi!" The puppy's head snaps up at the sound of her name, and her tiny tail wags, letting out another high-pitched yip as she squirms even more in Sophia's arms. 

Kiwi is a pretty looking dog even when her fur is coated in layers of dirt. She's covered in all sorts of patches of gray, black, ginger -- along with white paws and chest. Sophia isn't very good at naming dog breeds, but she's pretty sure that Kiwi is an Australian Shepherd. Maybe even a mix of one.

"We should probably get you cleaned up, shouldn't we, girl? You don't mind water, do you?" Kiwi's response is another yip, and Sophia takes that as a 'no, I do not mind water.' So Sophia clambers to her feet, holding the puppy to her chest. She walks over to the river again, kneeling down beside her backpack. 

She then lowers a squirming Kiwi into the shallow part of the water and lets out a yelp as Kiwi immediately starts splashing around in the water. "Kiwi, no!" She grabs the puppy by the collar in an attempt to hold her still. It works, but by the time it does, Sophia is already half-soaked from the water. Giving a small huff, Sophia sends Kiwi a half-hearted glare. 

Kiwi just barks again, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Sophia should probably stop her from barking so much, now that she thinks about it. The very last thing she needs is for the little puppy to start attracting walkers to them. Sophia might have weapons now, but she has no clue about how to use them, and she really doubts that a puppy Kiwi's size can deal much damage until she's a little older. How big do Australian Shepherds get anyway?

Sophia, now with a firm grip on Kiwi's collar, starts to clean her. And by cleaning her, Sophia means holding Kiwi still as she starts splashing water onto her fur, rubbing all the dirt and grime off her as best she could. It's a slow process, and it's a wonder that no walker stumbles upon them while she's doing it, but around thirty minutes later, Sophia has managed to get most of the dirt off of Kiwi. The one downside is that Kiwi is really soggy now and won't stop climbing all over Sophia.

That and Sophia is now really, really wet thanks to Kiwi's constant splashing. 

"I wish I had a towel or something," Sophia says to herself, looking Kiwi up and down. The puppy perks up at the sound of Sophia's voice, head snapping up from where she'd been trying to attack a random stick on the ground. The puppy then lets out a little yip, tail wagging as she trots over to Sophia, clambering up into her lap and pushing her wet nose into her palm, whining insistently.

Sophia pets her fur absently, uncaring that it is still wet from her bath in the river. After a few seconds, she glances up, taking in the bright sky with narrowed eyes. It's sometime in the afternoon if Sophia has to guess. How long has she been out here then? Almost a full two days?! That's kind of a scary thing to think about. 

After a few seconds, Sophia clambers up to her feet, putting Kiwi back on the ground much to the puppy's apparent dismay. She isn't going to be staying here at this river any longer -- she still needs to find her way back to her mom, after all, and there is no way Sophia is going to do that by just sitting by a river doing nothing. So she grabs her backpack, repacks everything, and, after a brief pause, lowers Kiwi into the bag as well. 

Sophia makes sure to zip it the backpack up enough that the excited puppy wouldn't be able to wiggle out, though she leaves the top slightly open so that Kiwi can still poke her head out if she wants to, not to mention breathe. Once she has done that, Sophia straightens up, taking a good look around at the area around her. Then, she puffs out her cheeks, grasping her knife tightly in her hands before picking a random direction and starting on her way again.

It's only when she's back within the seemingly endless expanse of trees surrounding her, slowly but surely picking her way through the woods, that Sophia realizes she's smiling. 

It doesn't take her long to realize why. 

For the first time since she's gotten separated from her mom back at the highway, she's smiling. She’s smiling because now, she isn't alone.

Chapter Text

Sophia continues wandering around the forest with Kiwi for five more days. Each night, she would climb up one of the many trees surrounding her, spending the night high above the forest floor where no walkers can reach her or Kiwi, who she tucks away in the backpack to keep her from falling out of the tree. Even so, she finds herself slowly losing hope as the days drag on. She hasn't yet found the highway, and the more she walks, the more she doubts she ever will.

Sophia feels like she's going in circles. She's tried following the river to see if it would lead her anywhere, but despite all her attempts, it brings her absolutely nowhere. Her rapidly depleting hope has her up most nights just crying into her arms as Kiwi tries to get out of the backpack to comfort her. A lot of the time, she would stay awake until long after the sun has set, causing her to be sleepy, cranky, clumsy, and irritable for the next few hours.

In the end, it's her lack of sleep that ends up leading her to the first sign of civilization since she got lost in the forest. 

With her lack of sleep came a clumsiness that she hadn't had before. She tripped over roots, bushes, and thin air often as she fought to keep her eyes open half the time. On one particular day (the afternoon of the sixth one -- if she's remembering things right), Sophia ends up tripping and taking a tumble down a small hill. Luckily, she only got a little bruised, and Kiwi had been out of the backpack at the time and therefore hadn't been crushed. 

Sophia pulls herself to her feet with a groan, wiping away the dirt and grime that now stuck to her as best she could. Her whole body aches, her stomach churns from hunger, and her head pounds -- but she'll take those things over broken bones any day, so she grits her teeth and fights through the pain. 

As she's getting up, Kiwi trots over to her, nudging her hand and letting out a quiet yip. Sophia pats the puppy on the head, giving her a strained smile as she starts walking again -- this time with a very noticeable limp. She knows her leg isn't broken, but she's clearly hurt it worse there than she had anywhere else. Judging by the blood now seeping through her pants, she either got stabbed or scraped badly by a branch or rock or something -- she's hoping for the latter, but with her luck so far, she doubts it. 

Sophia had only been walking for a few minutes after her tumble when she realizes that the trees seem to be receding slightly, and by that, she means getting both smaller and more spread out the more she walks in that specific direction. This realization makes her stop in her tracks, eyes widening a fraction as she takes a good look around. She hasn't imagined it -- the trees really do seem to be getting thinner. Does that mean...?

Sophia picks up her pace a little, ignoring the pain in her leg in favor of going faster. After a few minutes, she stumbles across a lone road -- it's not the highway. But it's the first sign of possible civilization nearby that she's seen in almost a week, so Sophia is obviously very excited. Roads always lead somewhere -- she just has to follow it until she finds something. 

So she does.

She starts walking again, a new determination filling her and steadily growing stronger with every step. Around one or two hours pass, and the sun slowly starts to fall behind the trees ahead of her. Sophia knows that means she only has a few more hours before nightfall, so she starts going a little faster. After what feels like another hour, she starts noticing old telephone lines in the distance, going down a fork in the road on the left. 

When she gets to the intersection, she pauses, squinting to get a good look at what is ahead of her. Despite the sunlight that nearly blinds her, Sophia can see what looks like three medium-sized houses along one side of the road, and so she starts walking in that direction, a new pep in her step as she does so. Kiwi trots at her heels, tongue lolling out of her mouth, clearly sensing Sophia's newfound excitement.

As she gets closer and closer, she can see that the three houses are obviously quite old, with their paint peeling and a few windows broken. The first house looks like it's falling apart -- the window frames are licked with ash -- clearly having suffered some sort of fire at one point in time. The second house seems to be in better condition, thankfully, so Sophia approaches it apprehensively, stopping at the porch so she can grab the gun out of her backpack. She then raises it as she advances, uncertainty tainting her every step.

The small porch she has stepped onto is old and creaky, overgrown with grass and clovers and dandelions and all sorts of plants, which are growing up and through the closed front door. Sophia pauses as she reaches for the door. Listening very, very closely, she taps the barrel of the gun against the doorframe, waiting to see if any walkers would come. 

After a few seconds without hearing any signs of undead life inside, Sophia reaches out, slowly prying the door slightly ajar. She kicks the rest of it open with her foot, not wanting to touch it any more than she has to. Kiwi trots in before Sophia gets the chance to, her tail wagging as she starts investigating the strange place. With a small huff, Sophia finally takes a step inside.

The air inside is stale, damp, and makes Sophia wrinkle her nose, but while it doesn't smell any good, she can't detect the tell-tale smell of death that is now just as familiar to her as the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and grass. It's dark inside, and when the door closes behind Sophia, it becomes incredibly more so. She jumps but continues on, keeping a close eye on Kiwi, who keeps knocking things around without a single care about who -- or what -- it may attract. 

The carpet had turned black with moisture, and the walls were crawling with mold. Thin, leafy vines have begun climbing up from the floorboards, and it doesn't take Sophia long to realize that this house has been like this for longer than two months. It's been like this long before the outbreak started -- maybe even years -- which means it probably doesn't have much inside. 

Still, it never hurts to check.

Sophia starts looking through the wooden cupboards, opening and closing the doors. As expected, she doesn't find much. Someone had already been through this house, probably when they first abandoned it, and had stripped it clean of any useful supplies. With a small sigh, Sophia picks up Kiwi in her arms, backtracking towards the door and taking a quick look outside before stepping back out onto the porch, wincing as it lets out a loud creak beneath her feet.

When she goes outside, there aren't any walkers in sight, but it's darker now, and she knows as soon as night falls, things aren't going to be staying that way. So she stays quiet, darting down the porch steps and doing a half-jog toward the last house -- which is in much better condition than the previous two. Kiwi starts squirming as she nears the house, so she pauses, putting the puppy back on the ground. She doesn't worry about Kiwi possibly running away. So far, Kiwi has been sticking to Sophia like glue, hardly even letting her out of her sight. 

Sophia certainly isn't complaining.

She approaches the smaller house on the other side of the street, pulling to a stop as she reaches it. The door is closed on this one as well, and so Sophia taps the gun against it as well, waiting with bated breath for a couple minutes for any dead to come. Even when none appears, she still feels hesitant as she pries open the door, showing a living room as some sort. But as she glances over her shoulder at the setting sun -- which had turned the sky various shades of purple, orange, and yellow -- she swallows thickly, turning back and stepping inside the house, Kiwi at her heels. 

Silence is what greets Sophia on the other side of the door. As she looks around, she can see that the house is covered in layers of dust, with cobwebs dangling from the walls, ceiling, and furniture similar to how coats would hang from a coat hanger. Nothing inside looked broken or even the slightest bit out of place, but even as Sophia starts walking inside, she doesn't allow herself to feel very optimistic. She taps the gun against the wall and waits. 

Nothing. 

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, she then slams her hand into the wall, wincing as a wave of dust starts raining down on her and Kiwi -- who gives a little yip of surprise, stumbling back and falling flat on her face. Sophia can't help but giggle a little at that before tilting her head, listening for footsteps, groaning, or even voices, but she hears nothing.

"Do you smell anything, Kiwi?" She asks, glancing down at her companion. 

Something Sophia had learned in the past few days since finding Kiwi is that the puppy has a strong sense of smell and, therefore, can sniff out the dead with little trouble on her part. It's part of the reason why Sophia hasn't run into many walkers while in the forest, and probably why Kiwi managed to survive as long as she did before finding Sophia

Kiwi looks up at Sophia, having pulled herself back to her feet after her scare with the dust, and is now wagging her tail, tongue lolling out of her mouth. She's covered in all sorts of dirt, cobwebs, and dust now, and Sophia will probably have to clean her up a little bit later, but otherwise seems quite relaxed. Obviously alert, but that's not exactly a bad thing, especially now, so Sophia takes that as a sign to go on ahead with her search.

Sophia raises up the gun again (she's pretty sure she's not holding it right whatsoever, but it's not like she has anyone around to teach her) taking a slow step forward, and then another, and another. She can hear her footsteps creaking loudly on the wooden floor but doesn't pay it any mind as she makes her way out of the living room and down the hall.

The hallway is short and ends up leading her to a single bathroom and two tiny bedrooms, both sparsely furnished, each containing a cot, a desk, a chair, and a drawer. The beds are dusty but made, and a small smile forms on Sophia's lips. Finally -- she'll be able to sleep in a bed of her own instead of the countless trees she's been spending her nights in! A part of her wants to just plop down on the mattress and never move, but the all too familiar ache of hunger churns in her stomach, and she urges herself to go and check the rest of the house first. 

She ducks into the bathroom briefly, not finding anything other than an empty pill bottle. Emerging from the room, she starts back down the hall, which opens up into the living room she had just been in minutes ago. She ignores it -- instead turning toward the kitchen, her gun still raised, but her body no longer pulsing with adrenaline as it had before.

As her foot crosses over from the carpet and onto the kitchen tile, Kiwi lets out a tiny bark, suddenly barreling forward and making Sophia leap back in fright. Kiwi pounces on something in the corner, teeth closing around something small as she starts jerking it around, growling fiercely. With her eyes wide, Sophia takes a hesitant step forward, peering closer to get a good look at what Kiwi had. 

It's a snake.

And a very, very dead one at that.

Once Kiwi stops shaking it around, she trots forward, stopping upon reaching Sophia. Then, she plops down onto her butt, letting the snake drop at Sophia's feet. Kiwi gives a little bark, looking quite pleased with herself -- or at least, as pleased with herself as a dog could ever be. Sophia picks up the snake by the tail, holding it away from her face as she inspects it. 

Well then, looks like Kiwi has just found them dinner.

If Sophia manages to light a fire and cook it, that is.

"Good girl, Kiwi," she says, leaning down to scratch Kiwi behind the ears. The puppy barks, leaping back up to her feet and darting around happily as Sophia just stares on -- amused and a little bit bewildered at what had just happened. 

She hopes that there are some matches in this house. Might make things a little easier.

Sophia steps back into the kitchen once more, going through the various drawers and cupboards in the place. She finds a couple cans of tuna (three to be exact) perched up on the middle shelves and snatches those, as well as a single can of pears, which, while she hates the taste of pears, she also takes. Sophia even finds some old crackers pushed into the corner of one of the cabinets -- they are probably stale, but she honestly isn't all that picky at the moment, so she takes them anyway.

Sophia returns to the living room and, seeing as she has more food now, ends up tossing the dead snake over to Kiwi, who snatches it up instantly, already beginning to tear into it. She then, while using her knife, cuts off a long strip of fabric from one of the curtains hanging from the many windows in the house. She crosses the room, heading back to the front door and wrapping the curtain around the doorknob and tying it to one of the many hooks on a nearby coat hanger. It takes her a few tries to get it tight enough, but eventually, Sophia manages to get it right.

She twists the doorknob a couple times to test its strength, relieved to find that it didn't budge much at all. Turning away from the door, she starts down the hallway again before even realizing what she's doing. Kiwi lets out a little yip, taking her gnawed up (and slightly eaten) snake and trotting off after Sophia, dragging the dead snake along with her.

Sophia enters one of the bedrooms, practically collapsing on the bed with a sigh of contentment. She digs a hand into her backpack, taking out one of the cans of tuna. It doesn't taste all that good, but hunger quickly overtakes any disgust she may have had, and she finishes it in a matter of minutes, taking a sip of water from one of her water bottles right after. Sophia lowers her backpack onto the floor next to the bed. She then pauses before poking her head around the side of the bed to get a good look at Kiwi, who had already returned to gnawing on the dead snake, giving little growls of contentment as she tears a strip of meat off the corpse. 

Okay then...

At least someone is enjoying their meal.

Sophia slips off the bed, going to the drawer. She yanks one of them open, peering inside. It looks like the previous owner of this house had been a woman, probably many times Sophia's own age, but when she takes out a green t-shirt and blue jeans to change into, she finds that, while they do hang a little loose around her, they fit almost perfectly, though she did have to roll up the jeans a bit. The woman who used to live here had clearly been small in stature if her clothes could fit someone as tiny as Sophia. 

She kicks her old and dirty clothes to the side, already knowing she isn't going to be wearing them ever again. And, while Sophia has no doubt that she's still coated in dirt and all sorts of gross stuff (shit, all kinds of gross shit. Sophia is twelve years old -- not five -- and she is going to say shit if she very well wants to goddammit!) No, scrap that -- she is going to say whatever swear words she wants to, not just shit! 

So while Sophia has no doubt that she's still covered in all sorts of gross shit, the new clothes that she's now wearing already succeed in making her feel so much cleaner than before. Sophia drags her feet over to the bed, glancing down at Kiwi, who is still chowing down on her snake. After a second, she swallows down the lump in her throat before crawling up onto the bed, her movements sluggish from exhaustion. 

Sophia pulls herself back up to her knees, scooting backward and yanking the covers to the side. She crawls into the bed, letting out a sigh of contentment as she sinks into the fluffy mattress. She can hardly remember the last time she had slept on something this soft -- was it back at the CDC? That feels like years ago at this point. A not so unexpected bout of sadness overcomes her right then, and tears start springing into Sophia's eyes once again. She wonders how her mom is doing -- where she even is anymore. Sophia hopes that she's okay.

She let her eyes fall shut, biting back the whimper that threatened to break through. Tears steadily start trailing down her face, and she curls up, bringing her knees into her chest and hugging them tightly as grief, longing, and defeat surge through her. The sun is almost entirely out of the sky now, and although Sophia has finally found a decent shelter for the time being and the first sign of civilization since six days ago -- it didn't bring to her any happiness or comfort whatsoever. 

After a few minutes, she hears Kiwi start to scratch at the bed, whimpering and begging to be let up. Sophia lifts the puppy up, eyes moving briefly to the half-eaten snake on the floor before hugging Kiwi tight to her chest, letting her tears soak into the puppy's soft fur. 

Sophia isn't even aware of falling asleep until  she wakes. And once she does, it takes Sophia a few moments to remember where she even is and how she had even gotten there in the first place.

She gets a few seconds of blissful ignorance before reality comes crashing back into her at full force. She thinks of her mother, Mr. Grimes, Carl, everyone she had known since all of this had first started. She thinks of the ones who died, the ones who left, and the ones she left behind. It got very, very painful to dwell on any thoughts of her mom -- of where she is; if she even misses Sophia. She allows the pain and wonder and grief to totally consume her, to rip into her mind and body like a raging wildfire, only squeezing Kiwi tighter when it becomes too much.

When she regains her composure, she sits up, allowing Kiwi to wriggle free from her grip. Sophia swings her legs over the side of her bed, standing up on shaky legs that buckle underneath her weight. Kiwi leaps down onto the ground as soon as Sophia's feet touch the carpet, immediately returning to the dead snake she had left behind. Sophia turns her head, wrinkling her nose at the sight of it but otherwise doesn't do a single thing about it. She trusts that Kiwi will have eaten the entire snake (seeing as it wasn't all that big in the first place) by the time she comes back into the room later.

She steps out into the hallway, arms curling around her small frame as she emerges into the living room. She checks the door, satisfied to see the makeshift lock she had put on the doorknob had held overnight. Sophia then pulls back a curtain, peering out the window and not seeing anything. Still, she isn't going back outside unless she knows for sure no walkers are anywhere nearby.

Sophia goes back to the bedroom, completely unsurprised to see Kiwi sitting on the carpet with the snake nowhere to be found. The wiggly puppy gives out a small yip as soon as she spots Sophia in the doorway, and Sophia gives her a strained smile, reaching down to give her ears a little scratch, a giggle escaping her lips as Kiwi starts licking her hand. 

Her stomach churns with pain, reminding her of just how hungry she is, and Sophia steps over Kiwi, reaching for her backpack. She unzips it, taking out one of the cans of tuna before zipping the bag back up and plopping back down onto the bed. She, after a few seconds of struggling, manages to pry the can open. Sophia gives it a small sniff, nose wrinkling at the smell. The food inside doesn't look any better than it smells, but Sophia forces herself to eat it anyway. She doesn't have many choices, and she'd much rather eat more tuna than starve to death, no matter how bad it smells or tastes. 

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand when she's done, immediately feeling so much better than she had before. Sophia lets Kiwi lick at whatever small bits of tuna that still remains in the can before tossing it into the corner of the room with her dirty clothes. Sophia sorts through her bag once more, taking out the gun -- which she should really figure out how to use -- as well as her two knives. 

Sophia tucks the two knives into the large pocket in her new pair of jeans, holding the gun nervously in her hands. She picks up her backpack next, zipping it up and swinging it back over her shoulders. Kiwi seems to sense that they aren't going to be sticking around the house any longer, clambering up to her paws and nipping playfully at Sophia's heels. 

Sophia lifts Kiwi up into her arms, letting out a small oof as the puppy immediately starts dragging her tongue over her face again. Remembering perfectly well that Kiwi had been gnawing on a dead snake minutes before, Sophia puts a stop to the puppy's slobber attack pretty quickly, reaching up her free hand to wipe her face right after.

"No," she scolds, wagging a finger in front of Kiwi's face.

The puppy just stares up at her, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she lets out yet another yip. Sophia sighs in response -- puffing out her cheeks as she walks out of the room, Kiwi still wriggling around in her arms. 

Sophia goes through the house once more, searching for anything she might have missed the day before. She finds one more knife during her search, but that's about it. With a small sigh, Sophia puts Kiwi back down on the ground so she can hold the gun without too much trouble. Sophia then walks through the living room to the window facing out to the street. 

The most she can see is a few leaves being stirred up by the wind, but other than that, she still can't see the slightest sign of life out there. She glances down at Kiwi, who doesn't look the least bit bothered as she begins scratching at the door, looking toward Sophia impatiently. The puppy clearly can't sense any walkers around, so maybe she doesn't have to worry too much after all. 

Sophia starts untying the bit of curtain she had used to lock the door. When she's done, she rests her hand on the knob, trying to come up with some sort of idea of what she should do now. She should probably try following the road some more, see if she can find a town or something. Roads can't lead nowhere, after all, and Sophia doubts that this is the only stop along this particular one. 

Plus, if her mom and the rest of the group is still looking for her, surely they would think of heading to a town or something, right? Her mom knows Sophia better than Sophia knows herself, and she has little doubt that she would do anything within her power to try and find her. 

Sophia clings to that thought with every bit of hope she has left as she turns the doorknob, taking a deep breath and swinging it open -- stepping into the sunlight. 

Chapter Text

The steady crunching of leaves underfoot follows Sophia as a dog would chase a ball as she trails steadily behind the familiar and comforting sight of Kiwi, who had grown quite a bit over the course of the last few months (had it really been that long?). Her tail was wagging as she trots ahead of Sophia: sniffing and rolling around in the dirt and giving the occasional bark as they move along. The sound and sight of Kiwi playing in the forest brings a faint smile to her face, though it's mostly weighed down by her sadness and grief, which had started creeping into her nightmares along with undead groans, her mother's screams, and the gnashing of rotted teeth. 

Time had started passing by slowly as she and Kiwi continued on with their aimless wanderings, no destination in mind as the days slowly began to blend together. They just walk, and walk, and walk, and walk. She had tried searching for the highway where she had last seen her mom for weeks, going in circles around the woods and following roads that lead to nowhere as she desperately tried to locate some sort of clue that could lead her back into her mom's arms. 

She didn't find anything.

The roads she followed never led to the highway, none of the maps she found made any sense, there had been no evidence of them being anywhere that she wandered... She had tried and tried and tried to trace her steps back to the highway, tried to do what Mr. Dixon often did, and find traces of their footsteps in the leaves that could have been from them searching for her -- needless to say, she had failed pretty badly. Even after she had stumbled across those three houses six days after getting lost, she hadn't been able to find her way back to her mom. Eventually, after the third week of her search, Sophia had finally given up and stopped looking.

It hadn't been easy.

Sophia had wanted to keep looking -- to find her mom. She wanted that more than anything else in the world, but no matter how hard she had tried, she hadn't been able to find even the slightest trace of them. So Sophia simply wanders with Kiwi at her heels. The two of them walk and walk and walk and walk, with no real goal in mind as they trekked through the unfamiliar terrain. 

It was just one foot in front of the other now.

One step after the next.

One step and then another and another until her legs can't carry her for another second.

Keep going.

Keep moving.

Keep walking.

Keep surviving.

A cold wind blows past her, and Sophia bites back a shiver, rubbing her arms in an attempt to draw some of the warmth back into her body. Judging by the weather now, autumn officially had settled in at this point. This realization sends a whirlwind of emotions racing through her. It feels as if it were only yesterday that Sophia had been playing in the leaves last autumn in front of her school as her mother watched on fondly a little way away, the two of them both painfully oblivious to where they would be in a year's time.

God, had that really been a year ago?

The trees had shed their leaves, and the air is only getting colder as the days wore on. Leaves swirled around in the wind, getting stuck in Sophia's hair as well as Kiwi's fur. Kiwi doesn't seem to mind it as much as Sophia does. In fact, the dog really seems to like chasing after the leave and would occasionally get herself completely covered in them. Something that, while Sophia found it endearing, got very irritating when it came time to try and get them out of Kiwi's fur. 

It's even harder when she tries to get the damn things out of her own hair, which only seems to be getting longer and longer as the days go by. Sophia's hair always had grown pretty fast, but it hadn't been until she had nothing to cut it with that she realized just how much she had hated it. It's gone way past chin length at this point. Now it goes past her shoulders down to the middle of her back -- it's grown darker too. More of a light brown instead of the strawberry blonde it had once been. 

She doesn't care as much about the color as she does about the length. When it had been up to her chin, it had been so much easier to brush out and clean. Now it kept falling into her eyes and getting in the way. It's annoying, to say the least, and Sophia would love nothing more than to cut it. But unless she wants to use her knife -- which she'd probably end up stabbing herself with -- she really has no other choice other than to let it grow.

Sophia glances up at the barren trees before looking down again at the sound of loud crunching and a happy bark. Sophia feels herself smiling despite her bitter mood as Kiwi comes trotting up, tail wagging and her fur coated with all sorts of thorns, leaves, and twigs, with a dead squirrel clasped between her teeth.

"What do you have there, girl?"

Kiwi lets out a muffled bark, dropping the squirrel at Sophia's feet. Sophia gives her a small smile, reaching out and scratching the dog behind the ears. "Good find, girl." She coos, and Kiwi barks again before promptly shooting off into the distance, most likely going off to chase some other poor creature. Sophia picks up the dead squirrel by the tail, holding it away from her face and swinging her bag around, unzipping it and throwing it inside. 

She'll try to cook it later, which she honestly doubts she'll be able to do. She hasn't yet figured out how to start a fire on her own. She's done it once a few days after finding those three houses, but even then, she hadn't been entirely sure how she had managed that. Luck, she supposed. But she can't just rely on luck for every small thing. She has to actually learn these things if she wants to survive the winter.

So far, she's not come across any houses since the last three. Which means she hadn't been able to find anymore canned food. She's been surviving off worms, other bugs, blueberries, fruit, the occasional rodent Kiwi caught, and leaves. So Sophia is almost always hungry. Water hadn't been as much of a problem as food is. She found yet another creek a few days ago, and a few days before that, it had rained. So water was probably the one good thing she had going for her.

Sophia spares a quick glance up at the sky, squinting as the sun's rays hit her in the eyes, practically blinding her. She swears, blinking away the black spots in the corner of her vision before looking back up, a hand over her eyes. The sun is high in the sky, hanging above the world like an ornament on a Christmas tree. It's around noon, then -- Sophia concludes. That's a good thing to know. It means she has a couple more hours of daylight left. 

She decides to stop for a bit to rest, letting out a faint little whistle to catch Kiwi's attention. She swings her bag down, resting it on a nearby tree. She goes through it, taking out her water. She takes a few sips, listening carefully to her surroundings. A few minutes pass, and Kiwi comes tearing out of the bushes, tongue lolling out of her mouth and bouncing around gleefully. Something that she's learned over the past few months is that Kiwi is a very energetic dog. But also very loud, which is a habit Sophia keeps trying to put a stop to with little success on her part.

Kiwi trots up to Sophia, nudging her side. Sophia reaches into her bag and pulls out the dead squirrel. She keeps it out of Kiwi's reach, using her knife to cut a leg off the animal. She cringes at the sight of the blood that pools into her fingers, but she's stopped freaking out about it months ago. Sophia tosses the leg over to Kiwi, watching as the dog gobbles up the small snack in seconds. 

She's a bit envious of the fact that Kiwi can eat things raw. If Sophia could do that too, then things would be so much easier. She's pretty sure that there are some animals that are safe to eat raw, like fish, but Sophia doesn't know which animals those are. She's pretty sure that squirrels aren't one of them, though. Even if they are, they are way too furry for her liking.

Huh, maybe she should try fishing. 

Yeah, with what? Your hands? Sophia frowns, taking another sip of her water. She has nothing to fish with, so it's a stupid thought. Kiwi lets out another bark, quieter this time, and plops down at Sophia's side, tail thumping against the ground. The dog nestles her head into Sophia's lap, and Sophia absently starts scratching at Kiwi's ears and running her fingers through the dog's soft fur, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly.

A nearby groan a couple of minutes later makes Sophia open her eyes, immediately tensing up as she goes on alert. Kiwi clambers up to her feet, a low rumble building in her throat. Sophia gathers her things hurriedly, swinging her backpack back over her shoulders and grabbing Kiwi by the scruff of her neck, pulling her away from the source of the growling. She's gone her whole life without having to kill a single walker, and Sophia is perfectly fine with things staying that way. She isn't planning to close enough to a walker to need to do that anytime soon. 

So she ducks back into the trees, heart thundering in her chest as she and Kiwi start weaving through the trees, trying to get as far away from the walker as possible. She keeps a hand on the handle of her knife, tucked away in her pocket, just in case she needs to use it at a moment's notice. Thankfully, after a couple minutes of running, that doesn't seem to be the case.

Still, just hearing that walker makes Sophia uneasy. Even if she hadn't even laid eyes on it. Anything to do with walkers -- blood, guts, rot, the sounds they make -- it always sends a shiver of unease or fear trickling down her spine. She knows she can't go on like this forever; Sophia is going to have to learn how to kill walkers if she wants to survive, but it doesn't stop her from wanting to hold it off for as long as possible. 

She lets go of Kiwi a few minutes later, trusting the dog not to run off and leave her all alone. Kiwi is just as uneasy as Sophia is -- it doesn't take a lot at all for Sophia to notice this. Her tail isn't wagging anymore, and there's a low rumbling noise that Sophia can hear Kiwi letting out -- not quite a growl -- that she usually only makes when she's unsettled or afraid. 

"It's okay," Sophia coaxes softly, running her fingers through Kiwi's fur in an attempt to calm her down, "the walker is gone. We got away from it."

Kiwi lets out a low whimper, looking up at Sophia with large eyes. Sophia offers the dog a small smile, and slowly, Kiwi starts to wag her tail again. "Good girl," Sophia says with a grin, scratching the dog behind the ears. "C'mon, let's go. The farther we get from that walker, the better I'll feel." 

Sophia still doesn't know why she talks to Kiwi the way she does -- like the dog is a person and not an animal -- but she does so anyway. In a way, she supposes she does it to comfort herself, so she doesn't feel alone. Or maybe it's a side effect of loneliness. No matter what it is, Sophia doesn't really feel like stopping anytime soon. 

The two of them start walking again, Kiwi remaining at Sophia's heels instead of darting off into the woods as she had been doing before. Sophia adjusts the straps of her backpack, pulling them up slightly so it wouldn't fall off her shoulders. She makes sure to keep an eye on her surroundings as they move, not wanting to let anything else sneak up on her and Kiwi. 

Sometimes, Sophia wonders if this is going to be her life from now on. Wandering from place to place -- town to town, forest to forest -- avoiding the dead, never seeing another living person again... She hates those kinds of thoughts, but it never stops her from having them every single day. Especially since they've become so plausible. 

Too focused on putting one foot in front of the other and her whirling thoughts, it takes Sophia a couple of seconds to realize that Kiwi isn't following her anymore. Sophia turns around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Kiwi is now standing a few feet behind Sophia, ears perking up slightly as the dog sniffs the air, looking at something to the right of them. Sophia takes a few slow steps forward, wondering what Kiwi is doing.

She peers into the trees in the direction Kiwi is now staring in. It takes her a couple of seconds, and Sophia almost doesn't see it. She squints her eyes, confused. Then her eyes dart up, and she looks to the distance where she can now see a roof of some kind that rose above the line of the trees -- a building of some sort.

Sophia feels a grin spreading across her face at the realization. The last buildings she had seen had been the ones that she found six days after getting lost, so seeing something like this is definitely very relieving. She's a little confused, though. Sophia and Kiwi are nowhere near any civilization -- Sophia hadn't even seen any signs of it for months! Not even another road or anything like that. So what is a random building even doing here?

She doesn't really know, but who is she to complain?

Sophia squats beside Kiwi, running a hand through the dog's thick coat of fur. Kiwi turns her head to look at Sophia, tail wagging slowly and eyes surprisingly large for a dog. "Good girl, Kiwi," Sophia coos softly, unable to help the hint of relief that seeped into her voice. She can't help it, the fact that she had found another building just makes her so happy.  

Kiwi perks up once more at the sound of Sophia's voice, yipping softly and nudging Sophia's hand with her wet nose. Sophia's grin only turns wider at this, and, after giving Kiwi a scratch behind the ears, she straightens up, now facing the direction of the rooftop she had seen.

She starts off in that direction, giving Kiwi a soft smile. "Come on, girl." 

Around ten or so minutes later, she and Kiwi are squatted on the edge of the tree line, silently surveying the land spread out in front of them. There's an overgrown clearing -- a meadow of some kind -- with an old looking house taking up the large mass of land. The house is around two stories, the wooden boards painted white but obviously torn with age. There's a wooden fence encasing a good portion of the land, and as Sophia looks around, her eyes land on the gate a couple feet away, open and swinging pitifully in the weak breeze.

A vague feeling of uncertainty overcomes her, but Sophia manages to push it back with little trouble.

"Do you smell anything, Kiwi?" Sophia asks softly, peering down at the dog lying in the leaves next to her. Kiwi blinks up at her, tail slowly starting to wag. The dog's relaxed posture tells Sophia that she can't sense any walkers, so Sophia climbs up to her feet, prepared to go and check the place out.

She hears Kiwi let out a soft yip and listens as the dog climbs up to her feet, following Sophia as she walks toward the wooden fence. Sophia hesitates as she nears but ends up climbing over it with relative ease. When she turns, she watches as Kiwi struggles to make her way through a gap in the wooden boards. Sophia takes a step forward, hand reaching for Kiwi and prepared to help when the dog finally manages to make her way through, falling flat onto her face. 

Sophia bites back the urge to laugh as Kiwi clambers back to her feet, snorting and huffing as she shakes the dirt out of her fur -- or, at least, in an attempt to. 

Sophia approaches the house with careful movements, eyes darting around and searching for any signs of walkers being somewhere nearby. Wanting to be even more cautious, Sophia ends up circling the entire house before going up to the porch, looking for any signs of the dead or living. She doesn't find any, and when Sophia is totally sure that nothing is going to pop out at her from out of nowhere, she finally makes her way up the steps of the porch, Kiwi trotting at her heels.

The wooden boards of the steps creak beneath her as she creeps up the stairs, but Sophia pays it no mind as she raises her knife slightly, stalking toward the door. There are two windows on either side of the door, one dark and murky, leaving Sophia unable to see a single thing while the other is splintered and shattered with pieces of broken glass scattered at Sophia and Kiwi's feet.

Carefully, Sophia slowly inches toward the broken window stationed on the left side of the door, peering at the interior of the house to try and get a good look at what's inside. It's hard to tell -- it's horribly dark inside, or maybe dim is a better word for it. She can see the shapes of furniture inside -- a couch, a dining table, chairs, and what looks like a coffee table of some sort. 

Sophia squints, ignoring Kiwi's twitchy movements at her feet as she moves closer to the window. She lets out an annoyed sigh and takes yet another step closer, her boot descending down onto a few pieces of glass with a disturbingly loud crunching noise. And suddenly, a gaunt face appears in the window, yellowed teeth snapping and a low growling noise escaping from its throat. 

Sophia lets out a shriek of surprise as the walker practically lunges through the broken window, dirty and rotted hands reaching out and grasping the fabric of her shirt with a surprisingly firm grip. The walker tries yanking her forward, teeth snapping dangerously close to Sophia's face as Sophia struggles to keep it from taking a chunk out of her. 

I need to use my knife; the thought fires through Sophia's mind like a bolt of lightning, and her grip on the handle tightens as she tries to push the walker back enough so she can finally be able to deliver the killing blow. It's hard work -- this walker is so much larger than she is -- and Sophia feels as if her arms are about to turn to jello with how weak they are getting as the seconds pass by.

She tries lifting her arms, tries pushing it away -- she's on the verge of falling over when, suddenly, there's a flash of movement and a low growl from her side. Kiwi lunges forward, teeth barred as her mouth closes around one of the walker's arms. Blood spurts from the walker's skin, splattering onto Kiwi's snout, and the walker moves its attention to the animal now tearing into its sleeve, its grip loosening on her shirt enough so that Sophia can wriggle out. 

She stumbles, her back hitting the railing of the porch. Her knife clatters to the ground, but Sophia doesn't hesitate as she swoops down, fingers closing around the handle. She looks up right as the walker leans in, teeth clicking together as it opens its mouth, preparing to rip Kiwi's throat out -- who remained oblivious to the danger she is now in, continuing to tear into the walker's arm. 

Sophia sees red.

Her grip on her knife tightens, and Sophia lunges forward without a second thought, raising her knife up and slamming the sharp blade right into the walker's head. Immediately the walker goes still, body sagging into the broken window. Kiwi lets go of the death grip she had on the walker's arm, a low snarl escaping her as she stares at the now completely dead creature -- as if expecting it to come back to life at any second and try to attack Sophia. 

Sophia yanks the knife out of the walker's head, stumbling back and staring down at the slumped over corpse with wide eyes. It's what used to be a woman -- long, blonde hair fell in a pool below its head, and Sophia has no doubt that when she had been alive, this woman had been beautiful. But not anymore, now she is -- or was -- just a rotting monster with a thirst for human flesh. Sophia swallows down the lump in her throat and looks over at Kiwi, who had yet to stop growling. 

She nearly just died... both of them did. 

Sophia doesn't know how to feel about that. She had just killed her first walker but had nearly gotten herself -- and Kiwi -- eaten alive in the process. Her grip on her knife tightens, and Sophia takes in a shaky breath before moving her attention back over to the door. She's pretty sure that if there are any more walkers that they would have appeared by now -- attracted by her and Kiwi's struggle with the first walker or something else -- but she raps her knuckles on the door either way. It's better to be safe than sorry, after all. 

When nothing else appears out of the darkness, Sophia eases the door open -- breathing a small sigh of relief at finding it unlocked. Kiwi slips through her legs and into the house, immediately starting to sniff around as Sophia closes the door behind the two of them.

"You smell anything, girl?" Sophia asks softly.

Kiwi makes an odd huffing noise, spinning around to face Sophia. Her tail starts to wag again, and Sophia takes that as a sign that there are no more walkers in the house. Still, Sophia remains cautious as she starts exploring the first level of the house, going up to the second one when she finishes.

As Sophia goes through the house, she finds herself in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The walls are painted a pale green with vine-like patterns going across the walls and ceiling. On one wall, there's a name written in white 'Rebecca,' and below it, there's a bed with a nightstand on one of its other side, and as Sophia starts to take a look around, she begins to realize that this room had probably belonged to someone around her age -- or maybe someone a little bit older. After this realization washes over her, she wonders about the fate of this child. Whether they still lived or not.

Sophia inches toward the bed, eyes moving over to the picture frame sitting on the nightstand. It's of a little girl -- well, not really, she looks to be around Sophia's age -- with dark brown hair that fell down to her shoulders and soft brown eyes that glittered with a mix of amusement and happiness. Sophia pulls her gaze away from the image, trying not to think about what might have happened to this girl. What probably had happened.

With the world the way it was now, probably nothing good.

She leaves the room, feeling disheartened as she makes the trek back down the stairs. She finds Kiwi gnawing on the leg of the dining table, but as soon as Sophia comes into view, Kiwi jumps to her feet, nudging Sophia's hand with her nose and grinning (or as close to a grin as a dog could get) toothily up at her.

"Come on, girl," Sophia says, "let's go see if we can find something for dinner."

Sophia can't help but feel weirdly at home as she brings a spoonful of vanilla pudding (found in one of the many cabinets of the kitchen) to her mouth, eating it in one bite. She's only had a few bites of it so far, but already she is feeling fuller than she ever has before. Kiwi is lying at Sophia's feet, chewing on the dead squirrel from earlier and completely uncaring of the animal blood now staining her fur. 

Sophia reaches up, idly running a hand through her knotted hair and wondering if there's a pair of scissors somewhere in the house. She can't imagine there not being at least one, but she's too hungry to get up right now, so she decides to worry about that later.

"Are you enjoying that, Kiwi?" Sophia questions, watching as Kiwi lifted her head to look at Sophia. She doubts the dog understands what she's even saying, but the sight of Kiwi's tail wagging at the sound of her voice makes Sophia grin nonetheless. "Good because I am too"

Thankfully this isn't the only can of pudding in this residence either. In fact, the whole house seems to be filled to the brim with food. It makes her wonder why the previous owners hadn't brought any of it with them when they abandoned the place -- they must have left in a hurry, then. But Sophia certainly isn't complaining: there's enough food in here to last her (and Kiwi) years! And most of it is canned food too, which means it (probably) won't be going bad anytime soon. 

Sophia wiggles around a bit, resting her head on the armrest of the couch as she eats her pudding. She had managed to move the dining table over to the broken window, covering it up just in case any walkers made it to the porch. She wishes she had something to actually board it up with, but she's content with just covering it for now. 

When she finishes up with her pudding (which takes a surprising amount of time), Sophia heads back up to the girl's room, pulling the sheets, pillows, and blankets off of the bed and dragging them back down into the living room. Kiwi sits up as she hobbles back down, watching with curiosity as Sophia begins piling up the blankets into a makeshift sleeping bag of some sort. 

While Sophia had considered it, she found that the mere idea of sleeping in that girl's bed feels wrong to her. Not even sleeping in the other bedroom makes her feel any better. She doesn't know why she hadn't felt that way before when she had found those other houses, but it does now, so Sophia chooses to sleep down here by the fireplace. Even if she hadn't yet managed to get it going, it ends up providing her an odd sense of comfort. 

Just as Sophia starts to settle down in her own makeshift cocoon of blankets, something bright green under the couch ends up catching her eye.

Sophia gets back up, her curiosity quickly getting the best of her as she drops down to her hands and knees. She ducks her head slightly, peering under the couch for a moment before finally realizing what it is. It's a tennis ball.

Pretty much immediately, Sophia glances over at Kiwi, who is still chewing on her dead squirrel, before returning her gaze back over to the ball. She adjusts her position, reaching an arm under the couch and picking it up. She pulls back, sitting on her legs as she turns it over within her hands. It's covered in dust and is spotted with webs and dirt, but in all, it looks like it's in relatively good condition.

Sophia had caught Kiwi's attention now, and the dog is now staring at the ball in her hands with vivid interest. As Kiwi stares, Sophia begins to get an idea -- an idea about something that she's never been able to do once in her lifetime but has seen plenty of times in real life and TV.

"Hey, Kiwi, wanna play?" Sophia asks softly, climbing to her feet and making a move to the door. She trusts that the fence will keep out any walkers that end up approaching the property, so she finds herself not worrying all that much as she opens up the door. "Wanna play fetch?"

Kiwi lets out a delighted bark and hops up to her feet, her tail wagging back and forth fast enough that it's nearly a blur. Taking this reaction as a confirmation, Sophia takes a step outside, pulling the arm holding the ball back behind her head and throwing the ball in one smooth movement. 

The ball flies through the air like how she's seen in movies and shows, and Kiwi rushes after it without a second thought, leaping high into the air as the ball descends and catching it in her mouth. Kiwi stumbles somewhat as she drops to the ground but doesn't seem at all affected as she pads back over to Sophia, dropping the toy at her feet expectantly.

And how is Sophia to say no?

"Good girl!" Sophia praises, swooping back down to pick up the ball.

She mimics her earlier movement, pulling her arm behind her head before throwing it as far as she can in the opposite direction. Kiwi races off after it with a gleeful sounding bark. She doesn't catch it in the air this time, but she brings it back to Sophia regardless, practically shaking with excitement as she drops the ball once more at her feet.

Sophia is happy to indulge her, throwing the ball as far as she can each time Kiwi brings it back to her and watching as the dog darts after it. They play for around ten or so minutes. A wide smile spreads across Sophia's lips, and she lets out a delighted laugh each time Kiwi runs after the ball. It makes a part of her wonder how long it had been since she had last laughed like this, but Sophia doesn't spend much time pondering on this. She's having fun, and that's all that should matter right now. 

Eventually, Sophia's arm starts to get tired, and when Kiwi brings the ball back to her, she picks it up and motions for Kiwi to head back inside the house. She feels kind of bad about it, but she knows she'll probably have more time to do this tomorrow. The sun is setting right now, and she doesn't want to be outside when things finally turn entirely black. Fence or no fence, she just doesn't like it.

She settles down in the many blankets she had set up by the couch, giggling as Kiwi starts nudging her face with her nose before promptly squeezing into the fort of blankets beside Sophia. She can't help but smile, nuzzling her face into Kiwi's fur as the dog rests her head on Sophia's chest. She reaches up a hand, idly beginning to scratch at Kiwi's ears and staring up at the ceiling as the world slowly begins to darken and the sun gradually starts its descent in the sky.

As her eyes begin to droop close, a singular thought flashes through Sophia's mind as sleep finally overcomes her.

Maybe things aren't so bad, after all.

Chapter Text

Sophia doesn't know what's going on. 

The teachers had been acting really weird over the past couple of days, only growing more so as the week went on: muttering to each other in hushed voices whenever they believed none of the kids were looking, glancing warily at the clock every few seconds, covering the windows, and even not letting any of the classes out for recess, which is something that many of the kids are still complaining about. Sophia doesn't really care much about the lack of outdoor time -- she usually spends those thirty minutes alone anyway -- but she isn't blind, and she can clearly see that the teachers are worried about something.

Her mom had been acting that way too -- a lot of the adults that she knows had been. Apparently there's some kind of illness going around or something, and it's killing lots of people. Or at least, that's what Sophia had been able to gather from her fellow classmates. She doesn't really get much of a chance to watch TV anyway, much less the news. The reason for that is because the TV is where her father spends most of his time when he isn't drunk or high, and Sophia prefers spending as little time with the man as possible. 

So while Sophia knows that something weird is going on, she just doesn't know what. It's a sickness, and she gets that, but why would that make all the adults as paranoid as they currently are? That's the part Sophia is most confused about. The part that causes her mind to whirl and her hands to fidget every few seconds. She doesn't like how uneasy all the adults are acting; she doesn't like it at all. She wants to ask one of them about what's going on, but she knows from her father not to ask questions because that would only get her in all sorts of trouble. Well, that and she's pretty sure that no one would be willing to actually answer her anyway.

Sophia sighs, her arms shaking even as she hugs them tight to her chest, her leg bouncing up and down on the hard tile floor of the school's cafeteria. Kids chatter excitedly all around her, all blissfully unaware of the tense atmosphere hanging over them as they start going on and on about what they're going to do once their parents pick them up. They seem so happy about this all, and it makes Sophia sick to her stomach because all she can feel is a lingering sense of foreboding and fear. 

The principal had called all the classes into the cafeteria an hour or two ago. Apparently, the school is being canceled for the next few weeks. Maybe even months if the sickness spreading across North America and Europe doesn't die down by then, and everyone's gonna be waiting here until their parents come to pick them up. This announcement had roused a chorus of cheers from around the room, and while Sophia wants to be as excited as the rest of them are, she finds that she simply cannot muster enough energy to feel that way.

School had been her safe haven for the past few years. She may not have any friends here, but it allows Sophia to get away from her father for a few hours. So with the schools closing down and the kids being sent home, that means she'll be forced to spend even more time in the house with her father. And with her mom being required to give most of her time at work... Sophia swallows down the lump forming in her throat, her arms tightening around her chest.

She isn't looking forward to it.

At all.

Sophia glances up as the third grade teacher, Mrs. Mueller, walks by, offering Sophia a soft smile when she catches the girl looking at her. Sophia can't find it in her to smile back, but she gives the woman a small nod before focusing her gaze back on her lap. 

No one tries talking to her -- the kids don't because they don't know her, and the teachers don't because they are busy, and with so many children here to take care of until the parents arrive, nobody has the time to offer a lone twelve-year-old girl some sympathy or comfort. Sophia doesn't really mind as much as she probably should -- she's not much of a talker anyway, and no attention isn't necessarily a bad thing. She would take no attention over her father's attention any day. 

Sophia's tongue darts out from her mouth, wetting her lips as she takes in a shuddering breath. There are only a couple of people who would be willing to pick her up today. And her father hates it when he is pulled away from his time drinking. So that narrows it down to one, her mom, who is probably working right now. People walk by in front and behind her, and Sophia starts biting her lip so she wouldn't flinch, but even as she bites down, it doesn't stop the growing fear and anxiousness that grows in her stomach. The school is usually crowded, but with all of the students and teachers stuffed in one room, it feels much more suffocating. 

Running a thin, shaking hand through her short blonde hair and exhaling as slowly as possible, Sophia starts fiddling with a loose thread on her old blue jeans. Her heart is beating so loudly in her chest that she's surprised no one else can hear it. The principal calls out a name from where he stands in the front of the room. A fourth-grade boy cheers as he starts being escorted to the office, where his parents will no doubt be waiting. Sophia doesn't know if she's envious or not. She wants her mom, but she doesn't want to see her dad. 

She just wants to be anywhere but here.

Sophia startles when she feels someone tapping on her arm. Sophia looks up so sharply that she's surprised she doesn't hear a crack, her eyes going wide as she meets the bright blue gaze of one of the boys in her class: Carl is his name, Sophia thinks. He's one of the kinder kids in her school. He and Sophia don't talk at all, but she's seen him around. They used to sit next to each other in fourth grade. He had seemed pretty nice, but she isn't sure.

"Are you alright?" Carl asks her, frowning as he looks over. "You look kind of pale." 

"Um," Sophia swallows, feeling unsure, "I'm fine... just nervous, I guess. It's loud in here..."

"Yeah, it is. Hurts my ears too." Carl wrinkles his nose as he says this, giving a small shake of his head. A strand of brown hair flops into his face, and the boy gives a little huff, glaring at the piece of hair in annoyance, and Sophia can't help but smile.

"Yeah... it really is..." Sophia trails off, eyes darting around the room, unsure of what to say. She doesn't talk to many kids at school, much less someone as outgoing as Carl is. He probably thinks that she's some weirdo or something: the loner girl who doesn't talk at all with ripped clothes and short hair... That's what most people think, usually. So why would he be any different?

Something in her body language must tip Carl off to something because he starts looking guilty for some odd reason, and he opens his mouth, speaking in a much gentler voice, "are you worried about the school closing down? I was really excited when they first announced it. But a lot of people are saying that they're doing it for our safety or something like that, so I guess that can be kind of scary."

Sophia pauses, taking in a shaky breath and trying not to choke on air, forcing back the tears that are now threatening to leave her eyes. Is she seriously about to cry? She isn't five anymore. "It's- um... I guess I'm a little nervous about that," Sophia's knuckles turn white from how hard she's gripping her pants, and she takes in a quick but shuddering breath, "it's stupid..."

"My mom always says that if something is stressful enough to worry, that it's never stupid. My dad likes to say that too," Carl's face falls slightly, and Sophia is suddenly reminded of how his father had been shot while on duty. It had been all over the news before the sickness started getting really bad. She wonders how horrible that must be for him. She can't imagine how she'd feel if something like that ever happened to her mom. 

Sophia tugs on the sleeve of her sweater -- the one her mom had made for her a year or so ago -- and sniffles, "you're parents are smart," she says, not really knowing what else she could say. "I heard about your dad..." Carl's head snaps up to look at her, and Sophia forces herself to smile at him. "I hope he gets better soon."

"Yeah..." Carl ducks his head, "I do too. Everything has been so crazy lately."

"It really has, hasn't it?" Sophia agrees. "I just want things to go back to normal." Her stomach makes a low growling noise as she says this, and she cringes at the sound. She hopes that the chaos of the cafeteria would be able to drown it out. But Carl seems to pick up on it anyway. He reaches into his backpack -- placed on the ground by his feet -- and pulls out a granola bar. 

"Here, my mom gave it to me this morning in case I got hungry, but we already had lunch, so..." he shrugs helplessly, holding out the granola bar for Sophia to take. She stares at the offering for a few long moments. Then, she looks back up at Carl, half expecting him to pull it away.

"Are you sure?" Sophia would be lying if she said she isn't hungry. Because she is. Her father spends most of their money on beer, cigarettes, and other useless stuff, so hunger is something she's grown used to over the past twelve years of her life. 

"Mhm, really, take it. I hate these things anyway." Slowly, Sophia reaches out, taking the granola bar from Carl's hand. She snatches it close to her chest as soon as she has it in her grasp, tearing off the wrapper and hurriedly taking a bite. It's a little bland, but Sophia's had worse, so she isn't complaining. Sophia takes bite after bite until the whole thing is gone, and the growling and churning in her stomach seems to fade away. Maybe not for long, but Sophia will take what she can get.

She looks up at Carl and smiles, "thank you."

He smiles back at her, a faint blush covering his cheeks. "Your welcome. It was no problem, really."

With nothing else to say, the two of them sit there in silence for another few minutes. Four girls in third-grade left. One boy from Sophia's grade had his name called too. Sophia feels herself growing more and more jittery as the seconds pass and more kids leave. All of the first grade had gone, so did second grade. The teachers from those grades left. Sophia glances over at Carl, who has a nervous look on his face as he eyes the principal calling out names. She can tell that he is eager to get out of here too. 

Sophia opens her mouth, about to say something to him, but before she can, the fourth-grade teacher stands up suddenly a few tables away, looking pale. Sophia turns her head to watch him, and out of the corner of her eye, she can see Carl doing the same. The teacher sways on his feet, stumbling and almost falling down as he starts hurrying toward the doors. He had just reached it when he falls down to his knees, clutching his head with a bandaged hand that oozed with red, and one of the kids nearby call out to him.

"Mr. White, are you okay?"

The man nods rapidly, starting to climb back up to his feet. But before he can, his face flushes an ugly color, and he falls back down, throwing up all over the cafeteria's floor. 

"Ewwww!" Kids around the room squeal.

Two of the other teachers rush forward. They crouch beside Mr. White, saying something to him that causes the man to nod. They help Mr. White up to his feet before hurrying him out the doors. Another teacher starts to clean up the pile of throw up on the floor, and Sophia wrinkles her nose at the smell, immediately averting her gaze. Beside her, Carl looks pale.

"Gross..." he mumbles under his breath, and Sophia can't help but agree with him.

After that, the principal kept calling out names, looking a bit paler than earlier. The kids start getting noisy again, and no matter how much the teachers yell at them to be quiet, everyone is just way too excited to go home. Sophia wishes she can share that excitement, but after witnessing what happened with Mr. White, that feeling of dread and foreboding from before only seems to intensify, making her feel slightly queasy. 

"Carl Grimes," the principal calls out eventually, and Carl jumps up to his feet almost instantly, a look of relief sweeping across his face. He picks up his backpack, swinging it over his shoulders. He then pauses, turning to look at Sophia.

"Bye, Sophia," he says after a second, giving her a small wave as one of the teachers calls out for him to start making his way to the front of the room. Sophia waves back, smiling softly.

"Bye Carl."

Sophia reaches out a hand, letting one of the many snowflakes falling from the sky land on her open palm. The snowflake melts almost instantly, leaving a cold and crisp dampness in its wake. She pulls up her jacket slightly, a shiver going through her body as one particularly icy gust of wind rushes by. The sun is high in this sky, bright beams of light showering down onto the snowy world. But despite the brightness, the air is colder than Sophia has ever remembered it being before.

It had been two weeks since Sophia had stumbled upon the small house, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. And on the morning of the fourth day, Sophia and Kiwi had woken up to layers upon layers of shimmering white snow coating the outside world. Sophia had spent most of her time after that in the house -- trying to keep the cold from drifting inside, but occasionally, she would venture outside in the winter clothes she had found upstairs in one of the dressers. 

That's what she is doing right now, actually. Just standing outside on the porch as snowflakes flutter down from high above. Kiwi is running around in the field a few feet in front of Sophia. The dog is rolling on her back every couple of steps and burrowing herself into the snow, and a part of Sophia is tempted to go out and join her, but she doesn't have any gloves on, and Sophia really doesn't want to end up with a frostbite. She had gotten one once when she was six or seven, and it hadn't been a fun experience at all. So she really doesn't want to have a repeat of that, especially now. 

Though Sophia doesn't really have much experience with snowy weather, she does know that she has to keep both herself and Kiwi warm if she wants to keep them alive and safe. Kiwi she doesn't really have to worry about nearly as much, though, seeing as that dog had a full-on winter coat now. Instead, Sophia needs to worry more about herself -- something she hadn't really had much experience with in the past.

Sophia remembers hiding under her bed back at home whenever her father had been screaming bloody murder at her mom. Sophia remembers holding her breath and praying to whatever god above that her mom would be okay. She remembers thinking that but not ever sparing a single thought for herself because if she lost her mom, then Sophia would be all alone, and at the time, being alone, especially with her father, had been considered the worst thing in the world.

It's funny how wrong she had been in the end.

Her dad had been far from the worst thing in the world.

The sound of snow crunching brings her attention to where Kiwi is, successfully halting her current train of thought. The dog has clumps of snow covering her fur, but she looks perfectly content despite it -- her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her tail wagging. Kiwi trots up the porch steps, nudging Sophia's leg with her wet nose, demanding pets, which, after a second or two, Sophia gives without complaint. 

She heads back inside the house with Kiwi at her heels, closing the door and locking it as best she can before making her way to the kitchen. Sophia doesn't really eat much at all. Despite the vast amount of food she has, she doesn't really want to waste any of it. So she restricts herself to only two small meals each day. Her stomach is often rumbling because of this, but it's better than being totally starving, so Sophia takes the hunger without complaint. It's not like she hasn't been hungry before. 

She takes out some canned tuna from one of the cabinets. She opens it and places it on the floor. Immediately, Kiwi shoves her face into it -- licking and slurping up her meal with great eagerness, and Sophia is unable to hold back her smile. 

"Are you enjoying that?" she asks.

Kiwi's only response is a particularly loud slurp.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sophia muses, glancing up, "aaaand I'm talking to myself again. Wonderful."

She picks out a can of peaches for her own lunch before sitting down on the couch and eating it slowly. After that, she kind of just wanders around. Ten minutes of doing that leads to Sophia finding a couple books to read. She thinks about going outside again, but a quick glance toward the window told Sophia that the snow outside had only gotten heavier. So yeah, going out there right now isn't that great of an idea. 

The thing is, Sophia doesn't like being kept indoors for so long. Sure, she's safe here, but she misses being able to go outside and not be freezing cold or in constant danger of a walker sneaking up on her. With only Kiwi and her thoughts as company, she gets bored fast. Sophia loves Kiwi, obviously, but Kiwi also can't talk. What Sophia is yearning for is another person. She wants someone to talk to. She wants there to be someone else with her -- someone to let her know that she isn't the last living person in the world.  

She finishes the books she found in a matter of hours, and once more, she is left with nothing to do. Sophia tries securing the hole in the window with little success. She spends the next half hour walking around the house as Kiwi chews on her tennis ball in the corner. It's pretty dull, to be honest, but she will take having nothing to do over being dead any day. 

Sophia lets out a heavy sigh, falling back down onto the couch with a groan. Kiwi startles a bit and walks over, nudging Sophia's hand with her wet nose. 

She moves her hand away, staring up at the ceiling blankly. It's times like these that she misses her mom the most -- times where she can't do anything to distract herself. Sophia misses her mom's hugs. She misses hearing her voice. Sophia misses seeing the way her mom would smile whenever Sophia learned something new. And her mom isn't the only one she misses -- Sophia misses Mr. Grimes, Carl, and Mrs. Grimes. She misses Glenn, Andrea, and Dale... 

She even misses Mr. Dixon, and he had scared the hell out of her.

She wonders where they are now. Are they alive? Are they okay? She doesn't know, and honestly, that scares her more than anything else. Sophia would like to think that she'd know if her mom died, but the truth is, she would be no wiser if her mom had died sometime over the past few months. Her mom might've been bit, for all she knew. Hell, her mom might be a walker right now!

She lets out another sigh.

Sophia wakes up to the sound of growling.

The very first thought that goes through her mind is that a walker had somehow made it inside the house -- maybe through the window. That the moment she opens her eyes, she is going to be face to face with rotten gray skin, a pair of lifeless but hungry eyes, and snapping teeth that are mere moments from ripping her throat out. That thought sends a spike of fear rolling down her spine, and her hand immediately goes to her pocket where she had stored her knife. But then, she realizes that it isn't a walker growl that she is hearing.

"Kiwi?" Sophia murmurs weakly, voice still husky from sleep. She sits up slightly from her spot on the couch, blinking open her eyes and glancing around the room until she finds where Kiwi is growling from. 

To her surprise, instead of being curled up at Sophia's feet as she usually is at night, Kiwi is standing by the door, or more specifically, the broken window. She's standing on her hindlegs, her front paws placed precariously on the windowsill. Her teeth are bared, her ears pinned back, and her body is horrifyingly still as she stares out at something Sophia is unable to see. Even when she hears Sophia's voice, the dog doesn't move a muscle. She just keeps staring at the window, her growling only growing louder and louder by the second.

Sensing that something is wrong, Sophia doesn't try calling out to Kiwi again. Instead, she stays deathly silent. She grabs her sweater from where she left it on the coffee table, putting it on and zipping it up quickly before snatching her gun as well. Sophia still doesn't really know how to use the thing at all, but that doesn't stop her from taking it -- if something is out there, it would be a good idea to have something more than a knife to defend herself with. 

Slowly, Sophia moves around the couch, careful not to make a single sound. She creeps over to where Kiwi is growling from, gently resting her hand on the dog's head and peering out the broken window into the darkness. Sophia doesn't see anything worth noting at first -- just a shit ton of snow, which is nothing new at this point. But as she looks harder, she notices eight figures in the distance. Eight human figures that are slowly making their way towards the farm. The moment she realizes what they are, Sophia's breath catches in her throat, and she feels her blood run ice cold in her veins. 

Walkers? Sophia doesn't think she's seen a single walker since she and Kiwi first got to the house. The snow must've slowed them down quite a bit, but Sophia never really spent much time thinking about it. As long as a walker never made its way to the house, she couldn't care less about where they are or what happened to them. A part of her had hoped that the snow would kill them all off, but deep down, she knows the likelihood of that even being a possibility -- it's close to zero. 

But still, that doesn't make an ounce of sense. If those are walkers that are currently making their way toward the house, then how could they have gotten over the fence that is surrounding the house in the first place? They aren't smart enough to climb anything. They certainly aren't smart enough to crawl through the small gaps, and they couldn't have gotten through the gate because Sophia had locked that thing as soon as she figured out how. Could there have been something she might have missed? Sophia strains her mind, thinking back. 

Then, it hits her. 

It hits her suddenly. Horribly. Violently.

Through the darkness, Sophia hears a loud, boisterous laugh coming from somewhere outside the house. 

Sophia feels her heart stop.

People. 

Living, breathing people.

Sophia knows that this shouldn't be filling her with fear. She should be happy -- thrilled, even -- that she isn't the last person on earth. Sophia should be running out there to greet those people. She should be jumping around with joy and swinging open the door. Sophia should be putting down her gun, should be getting Kiwi to stop growling so much. Because this is the first time that she's seen people in months! Maybe even a year!

But she doesn't feel happy. She doesn't feel thrilled, and she certainly isn't jumping for joy right now. Instead, she feels afraid. She feels petrified with fear. Her throat closes up, her chest tightens, her eyes begin to water, and she stumbles backward away from the window, her heartbeat picking up as the blood pumps in her ears. She doesn't know what it is, but something inside is just screaming for Sophia to grab her things and get the hell out of here. But she can't, certainly not with the amount of snow that's out there right now -- if she leaves the house, she's gonna freeze!

She can't stay here, but she can't leave either.

Making a decision, she grabs Kiwi by the collar and starts dragging her back. The dog makes a sound of surprise, her head whipping around for a split second, but she doesn't try to fight when Sophia pulls her back into the living room. As quick as she can and without letting go of Kiwi's collar, Sophia grabs her backpack from where she kept it on the couch, swinging it over her shoulders as quietly as she possibly can. She adjusts the straps, thankful that she had chosen to sleep in her winter clothes instead of pajamas. 

The people are closer now -- she can hear them laughing, their voices carried through the wind. She knows it's only a matter of time before they reach the house, and Sophia can't be anywhere in sight when that happens.

Sophia races up the stairs, bringing Kiwi along with her. She brings them into the master bedroom, shutting the door as her eyes start darting around the room. There's a window that Sophia can probably climb through, but she isn't about to risk going outside. Not with the amount of snow that is currently out there. No way.

Instead, Sophia heads toward the bed, getting onto her knees and shoving her backpack under before wriggling underneath herself. Once Sophia is satisfied she's secure, she drags Kiwi under too -- shushing the dog when she snarls in protest. When that doesn't work, and Kiwi keeps staring at the bedroom door and growling, Sophia winds an arm around Kiwi's middle, moving a hand to cover the dog's mouth. 

It feels like hours before Sophia finally hears the tell-tale sounds of someone trying to break down the front door. The sounds are followed by arguing, and Sophia's hold on Kiwi grows tighter when a loud crash sounds. 

There's the sound of talking, though she can't tell what the voices are saying -- too muffled. And even if they weren't, she's too terrified to pay attention to what they could be saying -- Sophia tenses when she hears the sound of muffled footsteps making their way up the stairs.

"Upstairs seems empty," a male voice says, slightly muffled because of the walls between them. Sophia has to tighten her grip on Kiwi when the dog starts wriggling, "want me to check the rooms?"

"Might as well," another voice shouts -- also male. "Make sure to kill any geeks ya see!"

"Yeah, no shit," the first voice snaps, "I ain't stupid, y'know!"

There's the sound of laughter. "That's debatable," a third man shouts. 

"Fuck you, man!" The first chuckles and Sophia buries her face into Kiwi's fur, her heart pounding like thunder in her chest as the sound of footsteps draws near to the room she and Kiwi are in. She can hardly breathe as the man wiggles the doorknob, and her grip on Kiwi's mouth tightens as the door slowly creaks open.

There's a pause where she suspects the man is looking around. 

She prays he won't think to look under the bed. 

"Ain't anythin' in this one," he shouts, "just a dusty ol' bedroom."

The door closes seconds later, the footsteps fade a bit as the man, presumably, makes his way down the hall. 

Sophia breathes a faint sigh of relief.

She listens, heart in her throat, as the men walk around, exploring the house. She half-expects them to notice some kind of Sophia's time in that house -- maybe she had missed something when she had been running up the stairs. She doesn't know, and it's not like she can go down and check for herself. Instead, she's forced to lie there and wait as the walls seemingly close in on her and Kiwi. She takes in a shaky breath as her eyes begin to blur with tears. 

Who knew that waiting can be such a painful process?

Somehow, she manages to fall asleep.

When she wakes, however, it's to the sound of screaming.

Sophia's eyes snap open almost as soon as her mind registers the sound. 

Kiwi is still huddled up beside her, ears pinned back and a growl rumbling through her body as she stares at the closed door from their spot under the bed. Sophia listens with wide eyes as the screaming continues -- and she feels her heart stopping when she hears a man start to laugh. The next thing she knows, the bedroom door is being kicked open, and Sophia has to choke back a scream as all eight of the men file into the room, one of them dragging a screaming blonde woman with them.

Confusion churns within her, but it's overruled by a suffocating sense of fear. She moves her hand back to Kiwi's mouth, clamping it shut and praying that no one had heard it.

"Put 'er on the bed," one of the men orders. Sophia buries her head in Kiwi's fur, wincing as the woman's screaming seems to get even louder. 

"Let me go!" The woman shrieks.

Sophia can hear the woman being thrown onto the bed, and she can see a glimpse of one of them climbing on as well. The surrounding men laugh and jeer, chuckling as the woman starts sobbing. Sophia feels that fear inside her grows even stronger now. The way that these men are acting reminds her eerily of her father.

A different man swears, and she hears the sound of skin connecting with skin -- a slap. He had slapped the woman. Sophia squeezes her eyes shut, choking back a sob as that man climbs onto the bed as well. 

She doesn't understand what's happening. 

Her hand is fisted in Kiwi's fur, and at some point, her knuckles must've turned white. Sophia prays that Kiwi will be smart enough to keep quiet. She doesn't want to imagine what these men might do if they found her hiding under the bed. A part of her hopes that they won't do any harm, but judging by this woman's screaming, she knows, deep down, that this isn't the case at all.

The woman's screaming reminds her of her mom, in a way. And the sound causes her heart to ache. She wants to help this woman, but she knows that she has no way of taking these men out. So she has no way to help this woman unless she wants to risk her own life. Which is not something she is willing to do. As long as she stays as silent as possible, she will be okay. If Sophia stays under the bed and none of them think to look under it, she will be safe. 

It doesn't stop the guilt from rising inside her.

She wants to help this woman more than anything. But something she learned from her mom is that she should stay hidden. Whenever her dad was drunk and angry (which was most days), Sophia's mom made her hide, and she always had strict orders of not leaving her hiding spot until she says it's clear. This is a similar situation, in a way. 

Two more men climb onto the bed -- onto the woman -- and the screaming gets impossibly louder.

Sophia is probably making it hard for Kiwi to breathe with how hard she is squeezing her. She tries and keeps her breathing even, and she tries to focus her mind on literally anything else as the bed begins to shake above her and the woman's screaming dies down to the occasional sob. Sophia keeps her face buried in Kiwi's fur, barely breathing as the night passes slowly in a flurry of screaming, crying, mocking laughter, and moans. 

Sophia doesn't sleep.

She doesn't understand what's happening.

She doesn't want to.

In the morning, the men finally decide they've had enough. All of them leave the room, chuckling quietly to one another as the woman sobs quietly from her spot on the bed. Sophia stays where she is under the bed for another hour, waiting for some kind of sign that the men are coming back. They don't. She can hear them moving around downstairs, but not a single one of them comes back to the room.

Sophia waits until the woman's sobbing had quieted down.

Once it does, she climbs out from under the bed. Slowly. Carefully. Kiwi follows a few seconds later, her claws clicking against the wood flooring.

Sophia pulls out her backpack and swings it over her shoulders. The first thing she sees when she takes a look around is the woman's limp, naked body lying on the bed -- covered in blood and bruises with her blonde hair matted and tangled. For a moment, Sophia wonders if she's dead, but then she sees the slow rise and fall of her chest, and she isn't sure whether to be relieved or not. 

Kiwi trots over, jumping onto the bed and sniffing the woman curiously.

Suddenly, the woman gives a quiet gasp, and she jerks upward, shoving Kiwi away. The dog makes a faint rumbling noise in the back of her throat, nudging the woman again. Sophia is frozen in place as the woman's head swivels around the room, confused and panicked, before finally landing on Sophia -- a multitude of emotions run through the woman's eyes, possibly realizing that Sophia had been in the room the whole time.

"You need to go," the woman rasps out finally, "before they come back."

Sophia stares at her, eyes wide with terror. "Where... where do I go?"

The woman makes a weak hand gesture toward the window, which Sophia realizes is only just big enough for her to climb through -- it doesn't take long for Sophia to understand what the woman is implying. She moves toward the window hesitantly, peering out at the snow covered landscape. It looks cold out there -- horribly so. Sophia doesn't want to freeze to death, but...

She glances at the woman, once again lying limp on the bed.

Sophia doesn't want to stay here any longer.

She makes a quiet kissing noise to Kiwi, causing the dog to jump from the bed. Slowly, Sophia opens the window, and instantly, a cold blast of wind slams right into her. She doesn't waste a second in lifting herself up, throwing a leg on one side of the window, straddling it, before slowly lowering herself onto the roof below. Kiwi jumps up onto the windowsill, eyes wide and curious. And Sophia grabs the dog before she can move, pulling her down as well.

She doesn't bother closing the window. 

After a painful few minutes, Sophia's feet finally hit the snow covered ground. She isn't wearing her shoes -- just an old pair of tennis shoes she had found in one of the closets -- but Sophia ignores the cold that seeps through. Her heart is pounding like thunder, and she knows that if she stays here a moment longer, it could prove fatal in the long run.

So she bolts. 

She runs and runs and runs, her feet sending piles of snow flying into the air, and even as her face begins to grow numb, she doesn't stop. The wind is whistling, and she can hear Kiwi panting from behind her as she runs through the snow. Everything seems so much brighter than she remembers it being -- piercing her skin and nearly blinding her. Pain shoots through her chest, and an icy feeling settles in her lungs. 

Sophia can hear shouting now, though it's barely audible above the whistling of the wind. Sophia feels her heart leap into her throat as a scream splits the air, followed by a gunshot, and then the wind is the only sound that there is. 

She tries not to cry as the realization slams into her.

Her vision reels, and her legs are growing weak. But she forces herself to keep going, not wanting to face the consequences of what will happen if she stops. It feels like hours before she makes it to the tree-line, though she knows it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. 

Even then, Sophia doesn't stop running.

Chapter Text

Sophia runs for hours.

She doesn't stop. Not even once. Not to rest, not to eat, not to drink or warm up. She doesn't stop when her side begins to ache. Doesn't stop when her lungs start to burn or when her fingers and nose grow numb. She just keeps running, and running, and running, tears blurring her vision and trailing down her cheeks as Kiwi runs beside her. She keeps running because if she stops, she knows perfectly well what might happen to her. 

Sophia hardly pays attention to where she was running, and she doesn't care. All that she knows is that she needs to get as far away from that house as possible. She needs to get away from those men with loud footsteps and mocking chuckles, needs to get far away from the woman with bloodied and bruised skin and haunted eyes... she needs to shove the memories of the night before into the far back of her mind -- needs to forget.

Needs to keep moving.

Needs to keep running.

Another few hours pass by like years. Sophia forces herself to slow down a bit because she knows that if she keeps going the way she is, Sophia's going to end up collapsing face-first into the snow from exhaustion. Almost as soon as she entered a walk, a low growl from somewhere ahead makes itself known. Sophia barely reacts, just glancing up as the walker stumbles out from behind a tree. Behind her, Kiwi freezes, a snarl escaping from her. 

Sophia waits for the walker to get closer. It takes a minute or two because of the snow, but as soon as it's within arm's reach, Sophia grabs a large rock from the ground and throws it right in its face. The walker is sent stumbling back, but it isn't dead. She hadn't hit the head hard enough. Sophia moves forward, taking out her knife and kicking the walker on the inside of the knee before it gets the chance to bite her.

The walker snarls, already starting to climb back to its feet, but Sophia slams her knife down into its skull before it can. The walker falls limp, and she rips the blade out from its head, watching blankly as the corpse crumples into the snow. She forces her eyes away, stepping over the body and continuing on her way. 

The snow crunches beneath her feet as she moves, and the cold bites at her skin with painful intensity. She keeps moving, though. She ignores the pain and just presses on.

She just needs to get as far away from that house as possible. While she doubts that the men saw her, she doesn't want to hang around to find out. The only comfort she has is that, even if the men had seen her, she doubts they will risk their lives to follow her -- especially with weather like this. If she's lucky, they'll probably think she'll freeze to death out here or something.

But if she's not lucky... 

Images of that woman come to mind -- of her bruised and bloodied body. And she knows that if those men find her, she'll end up in a similar state.

Sophia tries not to shudder. 

She fails.

Sophia steps through the open door of an old shack she had found while wandering the forest, her footsteps tentative and quiet. She peers around the room, gun in hand and heart in her throat as she takes in what hopefully might be she and Kiwi's shelter for tonight.

No walkers. No people.

Sophia lowers her gun.

She makes a clicking sound with her tongue, and Kiwi comes trotting into the shed. The dog immediately starts shoving her nose in corners and such, Sophia ignores her as she shuts the old, rickety door. While she doubts that the walls will hold if a walker herd comes through, it should be relatively safe for one night. Maybe two.

The shack is small. Around the size that Dale's RV had been. Sophia frowns at the thought of the kind old man. She wonders how he is. Or where he is. She doesn't let herself think about it for long, instead focusing her attention on inspecting the rest of the room. There's an empty bookshelf in one corner and a dusty sofa in another. But other than that, there isn't any furniture.

That doesn't matter. It's not like Sophia will be staying long anyway. 

She moves to the sofa, sitting down and rubbing her hands together to try and draw some kind of warmth back into them. Sophia brings her knuckles up to her mouth, blowing on them softly. After a few minutes of doing this, the feeling gradually begins to return to her hands. 

Sophia lies down, trying to get comfortable. She stares up at the ceiling, her fingers trailing over one of the old scars her father had given her when she was nine -- yet another cigarette burn, this time on the inside of her wrist. Sophia doesn't remember why he had even been mad at her in the first place, but she knows he had been drunk, and that might have been the reason itself. 

Sophia also remembers her mom had been working at the time, and when she had found the mark on Sophia's hand later that night, the woman had been devastated. But she didn't dare try to confront Ed about it because both she and Sophia knew that would only end with both of them being beaten by the man. 

She feels her throat get tight.  

Kiwi, clearly sensing some kind of change, nuzzles Sophia's hand. When Sophia doesn't make a move to respond, the dog jumps up onto the couch, curling up in Sophia's lap. Sophia lets her and even buries her fingers through the dog's thick fur, but she can't get herself to stop thinking about her mom. 

Sophia misses her.

A lot. 

How long had it been since she had last seen the woman anyway? She can't remember -- she stopped keeping track a long time ago. It's snowing right now, though. That means it's winter. So that means it must've been a couple of months since she had gotten lost in the woods. Maybe five or six? Seven? 

She doesn't know.

It feels like she's been on her own for years.

Maybe even decades.

Sophia closes her eyes, trying to force back the tears that are threatening to fall. But as soon as the first tear trickles down her cheek, she can't stop the waterfall from finally coming down. She clings to Kiwi and sobs into the dog's fur -- if Kiwi doesn't like the way Sophia is getting her coat dirty, she doesn't do anything about it. The dog just sits there, tail thumping slowly against Sophia's leg as the girl breaks down. 

An image of her mom's face comes to mind, Sophia's sobs grow even louder.

I miss her.

The night passes without incident, and the sun rises, showering the world in it's bright, near blinding rays. When Sophia ventures out, it's freezing cold. 

Half of her is tempted to go back inside the shack. While the cold still seeps into there, it isn't nearly as bad. But she doesn't. Instead, she grabs her backpack and starts walking, Kiwi trotting at her heels.

Sophia's stomach starts to growl not long after that. When was the last time she'd eaten been anyway?

She can't remember.

Probably sometime before those men appeared at that house.

And the worst part is that she has nothing to eat. She had left all the food back at the house, and the only supplies she has with her is what is in her backpack. 

Sophia needs to find some more food, and soon.

After an hour of walking, she sinks down to her knees, ignoring the way the cold trickled through her clothes. Kiwi presses her nose to Sophia's cheek, but instead of trying to shove the dog away, Sophia just buries her face in her knees. 

She orders herself not to cry.

So she doesn't. 

When she gets back up again, a new determination encompasses her.

The fact that she's even managed to stay alive this long is a total mystery to her. She had expected to die soon after getting lost in those woods, but she hadn't, and she keeps surviving. After escaping the house, she starts looking for places to stay. She uses maps to look for a place to hide out and follows any road she finds. One day, she even ends up finding a town -- the first one she's seen in months. 

She approaches it warily, eyes darting around from house to house. The streets look relatively empty, but she knows at this point that just because something seems safe doesn't mean that it is, in fact, safe. She has to be wary, has to be careful -- if she makes one wrong move, makes a single mistake, then it could end up costing she and Kiwi their lives. 

She approaches the first house: a small, one story building that faintly reminds her of her old home. Sophia knocks on the door while Kiwi sniffs around at her feet. Two walkers make themselves known immediately from inside the house. Sophia steps back as they press their faces against the window right beside the door.

She moves to the next house, and when she knocks, three walkers make themselves known. She goes to the next, and when she raps her knuckles on this one, nothing appears. She glances down at Kiwi, who seems pretty calm, and then back at the door. She grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open, holding her breath as she takes a good look around. 

There isn't any sign of walkers nor people inside. When Sophia looks for food, she finds a few cans of it in the cabinets. She stays there for the night, a feeling of relief filling her. 

The next day, she does the same thing. She walks out of the house with Kiwi and her supplies and moves to the next one. She knocks on that door, clears it, and goes to the next one in the street. She does this repeatedly for the rest of the day. Knock on the door, if more than two walkers appear, then leave it, but if there's one, just go inside and take care of it. Clear the house. Stay there for a bit and then move onto the next one.

Once she's gathered all the supplies she can from that town, Sophia and Kiwi move onto the next one -- they continue gathering.

Knock on a door. Leave it if there are more than two walkers -- if there's, one then kill it and clear the house.

Rinse and repeat.

Next town. Sophia knocks on a door as Kiwi sniffs around. She kills any walkers that might be inside and clears the house. 

Rinse and repeat.

Approach. Knock. Wait. Kill. Clear. Search. Leave.

She and Kiwi do it a couple times a day, gathering the supplies they need and sleeping in the house if darkness is about to fall. Sophia never considers staying in a building any longer than a day -- not after what she witnessed with those men. She knows better than to do that now, and she always makes sure to stay on guard.

Approach. Knock. Wait. Kill. Clear. Search. Leave.

Even if knocking doesn't bring any walkers to the door, Kiwi is also a great help when it comes to detecting walkers -- more than once, Sophia had been about to open a door only for Kiwi to go nuts. The one time that she had ignored Kiwi's warning and had opened the door, a walker had popped out at her while she had been clearing the kitchen and nearly took a bite out of her neck. Kiwi had practically ripped the walker's face off. 

After that scare, Sophia never ignored Kiwi's warnings again. 

One day, she decides she needs to learn how to use more than a knife.

She climbs a tree on the side of the road one day, her gun in hand. Somehow, Sophia also manages to drag her bags up along there with her. As Sophia climbs, Kiwi just sits down at the base of the tree. When Sophia gets high enough into the tree, she settles into a cluster of branches where she can sit without holding onto anything if she needs to. After all, she'll need to be using both of her hands for this. 

From across the road, Sophia can spy another tree. This one is wilting, trunk withered and gray and looking like the weakest of winds would be able to knock it over. Sophia pulls out her gun, aims it at the sign, and presses her finger to the trigger. Instead of firing, the weapon simply makes a clicking noise. She peers at it, switches the safety off before aiming again. And, with a deep breath, she fires.

The sound nearly deafens her. 

She gasps, nearly falling out of the tree. Below her, Kiwi starts barking. 

"Shhh!" Sophia hisses, and Kiwi, surprisingly, listens and calms down a tad. 

Once Sophia is satisfied that Kiwi is done barking, she looks over at the tree she had shot at. 

She hadn't hit it.

Shoving back her irritation, she aims again, trying to recall what Mr. Grimes looked like whenever he shot his own gun. She adjusts her position, taking in a deep breath. 

She fires again.

She finds another town. 

She approaches a house, knocks on the door, kills the walkers inside, and takes anything of use. 

She goes to the next house. When she knocks, nothing appears. She goes inside and takes whatever might be of use to her in the future.

Rinse and repeat.

In one of the houses, she finds a nursery.

The walls are painted bright pink, and stuffed animals are scattered all around. An empty crib is placed in the corner of the room. The place looks almost untouched by the end of the world -- sure, it's a bit dusty, but there's no blood or gore or anything like that. Sophia notices pictures on the walls and approaches curiously.

Babies. The pictures are all of babies.

Or one specific baby, probably the one who lived in this house.

Sometimes the parents are in the photos with them, but most times, it's just the baby. Sophia looks over each of the photographs sadly and tries not to let her mind wander to what probably happened to the baby after the world went to shit. 

The snow melts finally, and things start to get a little warmer. 

Sophia continues what she had been doing before.

Approach. Knock. Wait. Kill. Clear. Search. Leave.

There's an explosion one day.

She doesn't know what caused it, but one moment she's going through her supplies in one of the houses she had raided, and the next moment there's a booming noise that scares Sophia shitless. And when she peeks outside, the first thing she sees is the great plume of smoke far in the distance. Kiwi is going nuts beside her.

Sophia stares at the smoke for a long moment, curiosity rising within her. 

Oh, fuck it.

Curiosity killed the cat, her old English teachers would say.

Thankfully, Sophia isn't a cat. 

TERMINUS.

Sophia stares at the burning building from her perch in a tree.

Walkers mill around below.

The smell of smoke hangs in the air.

So does the smell of rot.

Back at the beginning of all this, a sight like this one would have made her sick. 

Now, all she can think is; did people do this?  

And as her gaze rakes across the damage left behind, she sees that there's nothing worth staying here for.

She climbs down from her perch, kills a walker that comes too close, and wipes her bloody knife onto her pants. 

She walks back to the cabin she left Kiwi in.

She practices her shooting.

She makes targets on trees most times, and she stands far away, aiming her gun at it. When she fires, she'll see if she hit it. If she didn't, then she'll keep trying until she does.

Rinse and repeat.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she starts getting better.

Sophia spends a lot of time running through the woods, trying her best to keep herself and Kiwi alive. It got easier as time went on. And after a while she starts to realize that her fear of walkers had all but disappeared. 

It's still there, obviously, but to a lesser extent than before. If Sophia and Kiwi come across a walker during their travels, her first instinct is no longer to freeze up or run. Instead, Sophia kills it without thinking and moves on. The only time she'll run from walkers is if there's a lot of them in a group. And in the forests, there are very few walkers wandering around. The only time she has to worry about a big group is if she's in a town. 

In forests, Sophia learns it's safer. But the towns have more supplies to scavenge. She would like to avoid towns altogether, but she doesn't know how to get clean water, and she doesn't know how to track or hunt, so most of her food and water has to come from scavenging. 

Forests don't just make Sophia safer from walkers, either. They make her safer from people -- ones like those men back at the house, ones who took pleasure in hurting others. She learns to avoid people just like how she avoids walkers.

People are dangerous...

Walkers are dangerous...

Everything is dangerous...

Hell, Kiwi is dangerous. Sophia had seen the way that Kiwi had mauled the faces off of numerous walkers, and she had seen Kiwi kill rodents and other wildlife. Sophia knows that if Kiwi wants to harm her, then she would definitely be able to. Thankfully, Sophia already knows that Kiwi will never do something like that to her. 

But other people? That's an entirely different story. A few months ago, Sophia would be thrilled to find another living person, to finally not be alone anymore... but now... after seeing what those men did to that woman...

Now she knows that the best way to survive is on her own. 

Chapter Text

Sophia Peletier's hands are shaking as she stares wide-eyed at the walker now approaching her. The walker was what used to be a woman. It's wearing an old and torn sundress, long black hair falling down to its shoulders, and on its neck is a ghastly looking bite-mark that's oozing with blood and pus. 

Kiwi is growling beside her, obviously prepared to lunge at the walker once it gets too close. Sophia doesn't make a move to kill the walker herself -- her fingers twitch toward the sheath where she keeps her knife, but she doesn't pull the blade out, not yet. She can only stare at it, taken aback at how much the walker looks like Mrs. Grimes: long dark hair, pale skin, the same height and structure... When Sophia had first seen the walker, she had actually thought it had been Mrs. Grimes. But then Sophia had taken a closer look and realized that wasn't the case; that the walker is a total stranger that just happens to really resemble Mrs. Grimes. 

She isn't sure if that's any better.

Sophia watches as the walker stumbles closer, dried blood splattered all over its face and neck -- whether it's the walker's blood or something else's, she doesn't know. The walker's teeth click together, a low gravelly moan escaping its undead lips as it slowly makes its way toward her. Sophia's eyes are drawn to the bite mark on the walker's neck -- no doubt the one that had turned the woman in the first place. Sophia wonders how it had happened, if the woman had gotten snuck up on or if she had simply lost a struggle against one of the undead -- she realizes that it doesn't matter either way. The woman is dead now, and thinking about what may or may not have happened won't do any good for Sophia.

Still, she doesn't make a move to pull out her knife, to put the walker out of its misery. The walker stumbles closer and closer, and Kiwi eventually decides that the walker gets too close and darts forward, barreling into its stomach and sending it falling to the ground. The walker snarls, but Kiwi doesn't give it a chance to get up. The dog lunges onto the walker, growling as she digs her teeth into the dead woman's head. Eventually, the walker falls limp, but even then, Kiwi doesn't stop until the walker's head is a smelly, mushy mess of blood and gore beneath her. 

Kiwi steps back, sniffing at the walker's body before turning and trotting back to Sophia. The dog's snout is stained with red, and Sophia can spy some rotted flesh stuck between Kiwi's teeth -- Sophia should probably be more disgusted than she is, but really, she can't muster up enough energy to care. Having walker guts in her mouth doesn't seem to do anything to Kiwi, and the dog certainly doesn't mind at all. So really, Sophia has no reason to be all that upset over it. 

Giving Kiwi's head a quick pat, Sophia starts walking again, adjusting her backpack's straps for a more comfortable fit as she heads toward one of the houses down the street. The town she is currently in is practically a ghost town -- hardly any walkers, no people, and the only living creatures here are the rodents Sophia can hear scuffling around in the grass and the birds flying around high above. The air is thick with the smell of dead bodies and rotting flesh, but Sophia has already grown so used to the scent that it barely affects her anymore. Kind of sad, really.

She glances up toward the sky. The sun is at its highest point right now, and its bright rays are shining down on the earth with a burning intensity. She swallows thickly, trying to ignore the dryness in her throat as she walks. The days have been growing hotter and hotter as they wore on, and Sophia's running out of water. She still has two canteens inside her backpack, but only one of them has any water in it, and that one is less than half full. 

That's why she's in this town, actually -- to find more water for her and Kiwi. Especially Kiwi. The dog drinks a shit ton of water -- more than Sophia does. In fact, it's part of the reason why they have so little. 

She knows that some houses should have working pipes. While it had been nearly two years since the world had gone to shit, Sophia finds a working sink occasionally -- how they still work after all this time, she has no clue, but she isn't exactly complaining. What she needs right now, however, is to find one of those sinks. So far, she's gone to three houses, and none of them had working water, but there are at least thirty more houses to check out, so Sophia hasn't lost hope yet.

But she'd like to find one of those sinks sooner rather than later. Sophia doesn't think Kiwi can last much longer on only an occasional sip of water as Sophia does. 

So Sophia heads to the next house. When she knocks on the door, two walkers appear. Sighing, she takes out her knife and carefully pulls the door open to create the smallest of gaps, and as soon as the first walker pokes its head through, she slams it shut again, trapping the snarling creature with ease. 

Sophia doesn't hesitate to slam her knife into its skull. The walker falls limp, and she rips the blade out, ignoring the blood that sprays across her hands. She steps back, letting the door swing open completely. The second walker lurches forward, teeth snapping, but it doesn't get very far before Sophia kicks it in the knees, sending it falling to the ground. Before it can get up, Kiwi is upon it, snarling and growling as she digs her teeth into the walker's face, jerking her head side to side until the walker falls limp. 

"Good job, girl," Sophia says absentmindedly, raising up her knife and peering inside the dark house. She steps over the walker corpses, nose wrinkling when a large spider skittered across the floor, disappearing into a hole in the wall. Sophia pauses for a split second, but takes another step inside. While the sight of the spider certainly made her a little queasy, she still needs to clear the house and check for water before she can leave. 

Sophia adjusts her backpack straps again, letting out a quick whistle and glancing down as Kiwi trots up to her. The dog sniffs around for a moment and then starts to wag her tail. Sophia takes that as a sign that there are no more walkers in this house and that she's safe to check things out. 

Sophia first tries the kitchen sink. It doesn't work, which really isn't much of a surprise. But she does find some canned beans in one of the cabinets. Sophia checks the bathroom sink next, which holds the exact same results as the kitchen one. 

She clears the rest of the house, and when she finds nothing else, moves to the next one. Sophia knocks on the door, waits for a minute, and when no walkers appear, she opens it and steps inside. Once again, she goes straight to the kitchen sink, which doesn't work. Sophia does find a water bottle, though, but it's only half-full. Sophia grabs it anyway, knowing that she's gonna need all the supplies she can get her hands on. 

She checks all three of the bathrooms. Only one sink works, and even then, the water is dirty and dark. Sophia tries not to feel too annoyed at this, but she can't help it. "Come on, Kiwi, let's get going," she grumbles, turning towards the door. She doesn't look down as Kiwi pads up to her. 

They leave the house. Go to the next one, which holds the exact same results. 

Sophia spends the night in that house. She and Kiwi leave the town by morning.

Her hair is around waist-length now.

It sucks.

Like... really sucks.

Twigs and leaves get tangled in it, dirt and mud are stuck between strands, and the hair itself just keeps getting in the way. No matter what she tries, her hair is just a rat's nest, and nothing she does changes anything. She tries combing it out every once in a while, but without a brush to use, the process is painful. Eventually, she kind of just gives up on brushing it out, but it doesn't stop her from being annoyed as hell about it. 

While she knows that she can just use her knife to cut it, she still doesn't trust herself to not accidentally stab herself in the face or neck with it. And she likes her life a lot, thank you very much -- she is not going to die trying to cut her hair, that would just be sad. Then again, a lot about her life is pretty depressing. It would just be another thing to add to the steadily growing list. 

Sophia sighs for the third time in that hour, brushing away the bits of hair that stick to her sweaty forehead. Another thing she hates about having longer hair -- the way it attached itself to her skin when she was dirty. She focuses her attention back on the cedar chest sitting before her. Sophia is scavenging in yet another house, and this one has an attic. The air up here is dusty and stale, and Sophia really wants to just head back downstairs where Kiwi is standing guard. 

She pries the chest open, unsurprised to see just a shit ton of blankets, sheets, towels, and linens inside. While she doesn't necessarily need any of it right now, she remembers how cold last winter had been, how she had nearly frozen to death a couple of times in the snow. Not wanting to repeat that experience anytime soon, Sophia takes a few of the blankets from the chest, stuffing them inside her backpack before sitting back up. 

The rest of the attic doesn't really have a lot inside. Well, that's a bit of a lie; it has a lot of old furniture littering the place -- beds, couches, tables, desks, dressers -- but nothing really of use to Sophia. Still, this would make a nice place to spend the night. No way walkers could get in, a shit ton of blankets if the night got cold... the only bad thing about it was how many fucking spiders there are. But between walkers and spiders, she would rather deal with spiders. 

So she heads to the trapdoor in the corner of the attic and pries it open. She is immediately greeted with the sight of Kiwi sitting on the floor right next to the ladder. Upon hearing the door opening, however, Kiwi glances up, ears perked. And when she sees Sophia peering down at her, the dog lets out a happy little bark -- thankfully not a loud one -- and climbs to her feet, her whole body practically vibrating as Sophia climbs down.

"Yeah, I get it. I'm happy to see you too," Sophia says as Kiwi jumps up in an attempt to lick her face, Sophia stops her quickly. "Nu-uh. I've seen the places where your mouth has been. You are not putting that tongue anywhere on my face." 

Kiwi doesn't stop her attempts, and Sophia sighs. She glances up at the open attic door, wondering how she might be able to get Kiwi up there. Kiwi isn't exactly a small dog anymore -- she's grown quite a bit over the past year and a half (god, had it really been that long), and Sophia honestly doubts she will be able to carry her for nearly as long as she used to. Still, Sophia doesn't want to just leave Kiwi down here. 

So with a heavy sigh, Sophia climbs up the ladder again, taking off her backpack once she reaches the top and throwing it onto a nearby couch. She does a quick sweep of the attic once again, hurriedly opening things up as she tries coming up with a way to get Kiwi up her. That idea comes when she's looking through one of the dressers and finds an old rope -- immediately, an idea blossoms in her mind. It has no guarantee of working, but Sophia isn't about to just not try it. 

She climbs back down, rope in hand. When Kiwi jumps at her again, Sophia grabs the dog by the scruff of her neck (they had to get rid of the collar when Kiwi started getting a little too big for it). "Stay still," Sophia orders, but Kiwi is much too excited to actually listen. She hops and jumps around like crazy, and it takes Sophia ten minutes to get the rope secure around the dog's middle. 

Pulling Kiwi up is a whole 'nother thing entirely. Sophia nearly drops her a few times, and by the time she actually had gotten Kiwi up, the sun had long since set. Sophia closes the trapdoor as Kiwi pads around the room, sniffing at the dusty furniture as her tail wags. Sophia fills up Kiwi's water bowl (which is just a bowl that Sophia found in the kitchen of an old house), and Kiwi immediately comes over for a drink.  

Sophia grabs a few more blankets out of the still open chest, throwing them onto one of the couches and making a makeshift nest out of pillows, sheets, and blankets. While there are a few beds Sophia can sleep in, she doesn't feel entirely comfortable with sleeping in a stranger's bed. It just doesn't sit well with her. Sleeping on the couch makes Sophia feel safer... if that made any sense at all.

Probably not. But still, Sophia isn't sleeping in any of the beds in the attic. 

Sophia pulls her boots off, putting them to the side as she wiggles her toes. While she knows that it would be much safer to sleep with her shoes on, she feels safe enough up here -- that and her feet were getting really sweaty and gross. 

Kiwi jumps up onto the couch as soon as she's down with her water. The dog plops her head down in Sophia's lap. 

Sophia nestles into the countless blankets she had with her, absently combing her fingers through Kiwi's fur as the dog's breathing begins to even out. She stares up at the ceiling -- thinks about her mom.

Sophia thinks about her mom a lot these days -- she daydreams about accidentally stumbling upon her old group, of reuniting with her mom. She thinks about her mom's hugs, finds herself yearning for one as she lies there on the couch. A bolt of pain shoots through her heart.

Sophia sighs. She misses her mom so much. 

Then, Sophia rolls over somewhat, wrapping her arms around Kiwi as she closes her eyes and tries to fall asleep.

When Sophia wakes up a few hours later with Kiwi snoring beside her, she knows that something is wrong.

At first, she isn't entirely sure why she has this feeling -- everything seems okay as she sits up and takes a quick look around. Not a single thing is out of place; nothing is about to jump out and attack her; and when she gets up to take a peek out the only window in the attic, the only thing she sees is a few walker corpses, a large pickup truck, and-

Sophia does a double take.

That truck hadn't been there before. 

Neither had those dead walkers. 

Unease trickled down her spine, followed by an overwhelming sense of fear -- and Sophia stumbles backward, her heart pounding as she hurriedly pulls her boots back on. Kiwi lifts her head from where she sits on the couch, watching Sophia with curious eyes. Then, Kiwi sniffs the air, and the dog's entire body goes rigid in less than a second. Kiwi hops down onto her feet, her ears pinned back and her teeth bared in a snarl. 

"Shhh, you need to be quiet, Kiwi," Sophia whispers, resting on hand on the dog's head as her other hand moves to unclip her knife from her belt. Slowly, Sophia creeps over to her backpack, carefully unzipping it and pulling her gun out from inside. The weight of the weapon is comforting in Sophia's hands, and she aims it toward the trapdoor, her heart in her throat.

Sophia had only killed a few walkers with the gun, and even then, she isn't exactly great at it. She misses her shots most times, still not entirely used to moving targets no matter how slow they may or may not be. Sophia prefers knives a hundred times more -- they're quiet and rarely draw any attention onto her, but Sophia also knows that if someone is in the house, then a knife wouldn't help her. 

It feels like an eternity before she finally hears the sound of voices down below. Only two or three people if she's hearing things correctly -- all are women. 

That relaxes Sophia somewhat. She remembers those men back at the other house, and she had seen what they had done to that poor woman. 

But that doesn't make these people any less dangerous. 

"Fucking hell," Sophia hears a voice complain, "there isn't anything in here. Clearly, someone already came through and took all the good shit." There's the sound of someone walking down below, and Sophia can hardly breathe when she hears the woman's footsteps stop right beneath the attic trapdoor. She stares at the trapdoor, praying that the woman won't look up and see it. 

She keeps her eyes and gun trained on the trapdoor, slowly stepping away until her back is pressed to the wall furthest from it. Kiwi is staring right at the trapdoor as well, her ears pinned back and her tail standing on end, and Sophia prays that she won't start growling again. Or, god forbid, bark. 

"Can you calm down a bit, Clara?" Another voice snaps, and then there's another set of footsteps. "We wouldn't even be here if you hadn't lost all of our supplies in the first place."

The first woman splutters but quickly rushes to her own defense. "I was being attacked by a shit ton of biters, in case you've forgotten! I had to drop the bag unless I wanted to have a chunk taken out of my neck." 

"Can you two stop arguing?" A third voice chimes in. "You're giving me a headache." 

The only response is a few quiet grumbles, and Sophia strains her ears, trying her hardest to tell if there are any more than three women. After a few seconds, she is able to discern that there are only three, and she isn't sure whether to be relieved by that or not. She does another quick glance around, but her gaze quickly returns to the trapdoor. Maybe they won't notice it and leave?

Suddenly, Kiwi pads forward, long claws clicking against the wood flooring as she approaches the trapdoor. Sophia flinches, praying that the dog will remain quiet instead of growling and snarling at the smell of strangers -- letting those people know that they aren't alone is the very last thing Sophia wants. For a moment, it seems that Kiwi is about to back away and head back over to Sophia, and she feels herself relax slightly. 

But then, one of the women below trip over something, causing a loud bang to sound. Sophia jumps, nearly dropping the gun, and Kiwi goes perfectly still.

Frantically, Sophia presses a finger to her lips, trying to signal to Kiwi to stay quiet. But she knows that the attempt is in vain -- a dog wouldn't have any idea what the gesture meant. Sure enough, Kiwi stares down at the trapdoor, and a low snarl escapes from her. It’s relatively quiet, but the sound is more than loud enough to be heard by the people below. 

Almost instantly, she can hear their footsteps returning to the spot below the trapdoor. "What was that?" The first woman demands, her voice frantic.

"Look up you, dumbass," the second woman says, and Sophia can barely breathe, "looks like this place has an attic. Probably a biter up there or somethin'." 

The last woman scoffs. "There is no way that was a biter," she says, "if it was a biter, we would have heard it the moment we came here. We weren't exactly being quiet."

Sophia darts forward, not bothering to keep her footsteps silent anymore, and grabs Kiwi by the scruff, dragging her back. She continues aiming the gun at the trapdoor, waiting with bated breath as the women wander around below. As soon as they hear her footsteps, there's a brief pause, and then-

"Is there someone up there?" One of the women asks.

Sophia remains quiet. 

Kiwi doesn't. 

The dog lets out a loud bark. Sophia drags her further back into the attic, still aiming the gun at the trapdoor. Sophia hears the women conversing quietly with one another, too quiet for Sophia to make sense of what they're saying. Then, one of the women raises her voice slightly. 

"Hello?" She calls. "Anyone up there?"

She quickly debates her options. Should she stay quiet? Or should she say something? Sophia remembers what those men had done to that woman last winter, and while she doubts that these women will do the same to her, it doesn't stop the trickle of doubt from creeping up her spine.

Sophia makes her decision.

"Who are you?" Sophia asks, keeping her gun trained on the trapped door.

There's a pause.

"My name is Violet," the same woman says.

Sophia is quiet for a second or two, processing this information. "And what about the other two?"

Another pause.

Then, Violet clears her throat. "Their names are Clara and Heather. What's yours?"

Sophia bites her lower lip, wondering what she should say. Should she tell the truth? Or should she lie? It's just a name -- saying it wouldn't hurt, would it?

"My name is Sophia," she says softly. Her words are followed by the horrible realization that Sophia hadn't spoken her own name in nearly two years. Hell, this is the first interaction with people she's had since... since last winter. 

She isn't sure how to feel about that. 

"You have a dog with you, Sophia?" Violet inquires. 

Sophia nods, though she nearly slaps herself when she realizes that Violet couldn't see her, and therefore couldn't see her response. "Yeah," she says, not really seeing any real reason to hide it. They had already heard Kiwi, after all. 

Yet another pause.

"Can... can you come down?" It's one of the other women who speak this time. Sophia thinks that it's probably Heather. 

Sophia's grip on her gun tightens. "Can I trust you not to shoot me?"

"We won't attack you if you don't attack us," Heather promises. 

Sophia knows that she probably shouldn't listen to the woman. She knows that trusting people is dangerous, that doing so might end with her and Kiwi's death. But another part of her is yearning for some kind of human interaction. She hadn't talked to anyone in... forever, and there is a group of people a few feet below, promising that they won't hurt her. 

Letting go of Kiwi, Sophia creeps toward the trapdoor. She carefully pries it open, poking her head through the opening. Immediately, she is greeted with three women staring up at her. One has long, light brown hair; another has short, blonde hair; and the other has chin-length red hair. They all look pretty battered -- tired too. There's an ugly cut going down the redhead's cheek, and the blonde looks on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

The women stare at Sophia for a long moment. Sophia does the same.

Then, the redhead speaks. "You're a kid?" It's Violet, Sophia realizes. 

Sophia nods, "yeah."

Something in Violet's expression softens. "And... you're all alone?"

Sophia nods again, "I lost my group a while ago." She doesn't go into any details, and she knows that she doesn't need to. Kiwi nudges her face into Sophia's stomach before also poking her head through the trapdoor, staring down at the woman with her tail wagging. 

The blonde tilts her head, lips quirking up into an amused smile as her gaze moves to Kiwi. "Cute dog you have there," she looks back to Sophia, "I'm Heather, by the way. That's Clara." She motions to the brunette, and the woman gives Sophia a weak nod. 

Violet runs a hand through her hair, "um... hate to ask you this. But do you happen to have any food to spare? We haven't eaten anything in a while..." 

Sophia stares down at them for a few moments. Then, she nods. "Give me a second," Sophia moves away from the trapdoor, going straight to her backpack. While she knows that she needs this food, she has enough of it to last her a few months. Giving some of it away isn't going to hurt. So Sophia takes two cans of peaches and one can of pears and heads back over to the trapdoor.

"Here, catch," Sophia drops the first one down, and Violet catches it with relative ease. Then, Sophia drops the second one down, and Clara is the one who grabs it. Sophia drops the third one, and Heather snatches this one.  

Violet stares at the canned peaches in her hand for a second or two. "Thanks, kid," she says quietly, "really appreciate it." 

Sophia nods, not really knowing what else to say.

The women are still there when Sophia comes down from the attic the next morning. 

Violet looks up when Sophia enters the room they're in. She looks surprised to see her there, but that surprise quickly melts into an expression of curiosity. "Hey," the redhead says, smiling softly.

Sophia smiles weakly in return, "hi." Kiwi doesn't seem to share the same shyness as Sophia does. She trots right up to where Heather is looking through a backpack, and the woman appears delighted and quickly starts to scratch at Kiwi's ears.

Everything is silent for a few seconds.

"Are you leaving?" Sophia asks, adjusting her backpack straps. 

Violet nods. "Yeah, we are."

"Oh," Sophia can't help but feel a little disappointed by this. The first people she's seen in forever, and they're already leaving. Sophia really shouldn't be surprised -- everyone in her life seems to leave her eventually. 

Something in Violet's expression softens. "You know... you don't necessarily have to be alone anymore."

Sophia's eyes widened. "You want me to come with you?"

Violet nods. "You're clearly a smart kid. Hell, you'd have to be if you managed to keep yourself alive for this long. And even if you weren't, I'm not about to leave a kid out here alone if I don't have to." Violet looks to where Heather and Clara are, and the other two women nod. Sophia realizes that they've probably had a conversation about this before.

Violet looks back at Sophia. "So... what do you say. Want to come with us?" 

Sophia can't help the smile that spreads across her face. "I'd love that."

Chapter Text

Sophia watches the three women like a hawk as they drive their large pickup truck through the woods. It had been a week or so since she had first met Violet, Heather, and Clara, but a part of her isn't entirely at ease with them. Sophia likes them, obviously. They're kind to her, smile at her, let Sophia help out on runs, and simply being around people again is a miracle itself, but she knows from experience that just because someone seemed nice didn't mean they are. 

It reminds her of when she was eight. Sophia had befriended this group of girls, and they had treated Sophia so wonderfully for the first month. But then, it all came crashing down when Sophia realized the only reason they kept her around was so they could copy off of her homework and such -- they didn't even like her at all. While Sophia knows that this is an entirely different situation, it doesn't stop the flicker of doubt from rising within her. 

She makes sure to keep them all in her sight as they drive, and that means seating herself at the very back of the truck no matter how windy it may or may not be. Kiwi is always lying at her feet, never making much noise or leaving to get ear scratches from the other women. It's like she senses Sophia's unease and wants to comfort her, which she is grateful for. Sophia hugs her arms to her chest, lips pursed as the breeze sends a strand of hair falling into her face. Sophia tucks it behind her ear and bites back the urge to sigh. 

They had been driving for at least four hours at this point. Sophia can feel her legs start to cramp up as her nose and fingers become numb, and she can tell that the other women are getting a little restless as well. But Violet insists on driving for as long as possible before they take a break -- why, Sophia doesn't know. Violet is just really against stopping for any sort of reason. While Sophia does feel much safer in the back of the car, she also really needs to pee. And, judging by the way the dog keeps squirming around at her feet, she has a feeling Kiwi does too. 

Sophia rests her head against her backpack, watching as the landscape rushes by in a blur of green, brown, and the occasional orange or yellow. They pass a few walkers on the road, but they never pay much attention to them. Violet usually just drives around them. 

Something Sophia has learned about Violet over the past week is that the woman is a HUGE survivalist. According to Heather, who apparently knew Violet and Clara before the world ended, Violet used to be a part of the army. Sophia can kind of see it in the way that the woman walks around, the way that she seems to always be on the move, how she holds herself and how she talks. Violet also has this look in her eyes that tells Sophia that she's seen some shit. Though whether that had been before or after the walkers first started appearing, she still doesn't know. 

To take her mind off of the suffocating silence that no one really seems willing to break, Sophia starts wondering where they might be in the United States. She has a feeling that they're no longer in Georgia, but she has no way to prove it. Violet, Clara, and Heather don't have a clue either. Sophia shifts around for a moment before glancing at Clara -- who is sitting in the spot next to Heather. Then, Sophia's gaze moves to the backpack at the woman's feet. Sophia leans down, ignoring the curious look Clara sends her and starts going through the bag. 

"What are you doing?" Clara questions. Sophia, once again, ignores her. Sophia's fingers close around something, and she pulls it out, blinking in surprise when she realizes what it is.

"Um, quick question, why do you guys have a flute in here?" Sophia questions, her eyebrows furrowing as she stares at the instrument in her hands. Immediately, she hears Violet let out a violent snort from her spot in the driver's seat as Heather groans loudly. Clara, on the other hand, has a grin on her face. 

"I thought we got rid of that thing," Heather says, rubbing her forehead. She glances over at Sophia. "Clara used to play with that all the fucking time. She says that she used to take lessons, but trust me, she sucks." 

"Hey, I am not bad!" Clara protests, and Sophia can hear Violet sighing through the window as Clara elbows Heather in the gut. Clara turns to look at Sophia. "Don't listen to a word she says. I have taken classes since I was five, and I am an expert on playing the flute. In fact..." Clara reaches out a hand, smiling sheepishly, "can I have that back?" 

"Yeah, whatever you say, dumbass," Heather retorts, but there's a grin on her face as she turns to face Sophia. "Whatever you do, make sure Clara doesn't get her hands on that flute. You will regret it for the rest of your life. Your ears will never recover, trust me." 

Once again, Clara elbows Heather in the gut. Sophia hears Violet sighing once again. "Children," Sophia hears the redhead mutter through the open window, "all of you." 

Sophia can't help but grin. Still, as she stares at the flute in her hand, she already knows what she's going to do. Sophia taps Clara on the shoulder, and when the woman looks at her, she passes the instrument into her hand. The expression on the brunette's face is one of total excitement, and Clara takes it into her hand, a smile splitting her face.

"Thanks, kid," Clara says, patting Sophia on the shoulder, "I owe you one."

Heather groans, loud and dramatic. "What have you done?" 

Violet, on the other hand, just sighs.

Clara actually isn't that bad at playing the flute. Or at least, in Sophia's opinion. Heather, on the other hand, groans and covers her ears. She even starts rolling around in the trunk bed, acting like Clara playing the flute is actually killing her. Sophia finds the interaction between the two pretty entertaining. But she has a feeling that Violet just finds it tiring, judging by the look of boredom and annoyance that paints her face.

Sophia tells them a little bit about what had happened to her, how she had gotten lost from her group, only to never find them again. The looks she had gotten were ones of sadness and pity, but Sophia mainly ignored those. Violet, in return, tells Sophia about what happened to them. Apparently, she, Heather, and Clara had been friends since middle school and never really fell out of contact. When the world ended, they had been at Clara's apartment in the city, and it had nearly killed them trying to get out. They spent a lot of time away from other people, namely large groups of men. 

Violet seems adamant about Sophia staying away from men. If you ever get separated from us in the same way you got lost from your old group, you need to stay far away from groups made of only men. I know you probably will want to be around people, but promise me you'll stay away from any men you come across -- that's what she had said when Sophia had mentioned the men who had come into her house last winter. Her face had gotten dead serious, enough so that it had sent a chill down Sophia's spine.

Sophia, in a way, does understand what Violet means. She remembers the things her father had done to her mom, and she remembers what those men had done to that woman last winter. 

It terrifies her, really. The idea of potentially having something like that happening to her. While she knows that she's (somewhat) safe with Violet, Heather, and Clara, she also knows that things don't stay that way. Things will go wrong eventually. 

Fuck, this world really hates her. 

Another week passes. Sophia is once again sitting in the back of the truck. But this time, the car is parked in a small clearing in the woods. Clara is setting up a perimeter of tin cans around their small area she's chosen to make their camp while Heather tries to get a fire going. Kiwi is lying at Sophia's side, faint snores escaping her as Sophia absently runs her fingers through the dog's thick fur. 

"Damn, your hair really looks like a rat's nest, kid." Sophia looks over, surprised to see Violet climbing onto the back of the truck. "When was the last time you even cut it?" The woman settles into the spot beside her, patting Kiwi's head briefly before stretching her arms out. 

Sophia shrugs, picking at a loose thread in her jeans, knowing better than to actually try and remember. "I don't know. But it's driving me kind of insane."

"Yeah, no shit. Long hair drives me crazy, so I can't imagine how you must be feeling." Violet muses. The woman runs a hand through her short hair, her face scrunched up as she appears to think something over. "Do you want me to cut it for you?" 

Sophia stares at her for a few long moments, blinking her eyes slowly as she processes the woman's words. "Can... can you?"

If she can, that would be a literal miracle. Sophia is actually about to tear her own hair out at this point. 

Violet grins at her. "Sure I can. I mean, I'm no hairstylist, so there's no guarantee that it will look good, but I can probably cut it to a more manageable degree if you're okay with that." 

Sophia nods rapidly, a smile spreading across her face. It feels nice to smile again. "That would be amazing." 

Violet nods, looking pleased. The redhead gets back up, and Sophia watches as she jumps out of the truck and opens one of the doors. "Heather usually keeps some scissors in her bag," Violet says, and Sophia can hear her rummaging through the supplies they keep in the car.

A few seconds pass in silence, and then-

 "Aha! Found them!"

There's the sound of the truck door slamming shut, and Violet appears again, a pair of scissors in hand. She jumps onto the back of the truck and motions for Sophia to turn around. "How short do you want it? Shoulder-length? Or do you want it more like mine?"

Sophia thinks it over. "Can you make it more like yours? I don't want any walkers to be able to grab onto it." Or anyone. Sophia remembers seeing the way her father had yanked on her mom's hair when it had been longer, and she doesn't want anything like that happening to her.

"On it," Violet says.

Sophia sits perfectly still as Violet starts working on her hair. It's quite calming, actually. She feels Violet pulling on the twigs and leaves that got caught in the tangles, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did when Sophia used to do it. Violet hums as she works, and when she starts snipping away at the long locks of hair, Sophia finds herself breathing a faint sigh of relief. 

In the corner of her eye, Sophia can see dirty strands of hair falling to the trunk bed. She reaches down and picks one up, staring at the lock of hair that had come from her own head. The hair, even though it's a smaller piece, is riddled with leaves and twigs. And Sophia finds herself horrified when she finds an ant in it. She drops the lock of hair, relief tugging at her heart as Violet cuts more and more hair off. 

Sophia scratches at an itch on her hand. She wonders if Violet has a mirror anywhere. She doubts it, but it would definitely be nice to see what she looks like after the haircut.

Then again, as long as I don't have to deal with leaves and sticks getting tangled in there, I couldn't care less about what it looks like. 

The next few minutes go by in mostly silence. Clara and Heather continue setting up the camp as Violet snips away at Sophia's hair. Kiwi gets up at one point and trots off to where Heather is. Sophia tilts her head back a bit and watches as the birds fly around overhead. She wonders how nice it must be to have wings -- to be able to fly away from walkers. The birds probably had it so much easier than every other animal. 

"There! All done," Violet announces suddenly, causing Sophia to jump. "How does that feel?"

Sophia sits up, reaching out a hand to touch her head. Violet cut it really short, and as she runs a hand through the locks that barely even make it down her neck, it reminds her of how it used to be back at the quarry camp. Back when she had still been with her mom. Once again, another bolt of pain ripples through her at the thought of her mom. But the feeling is overcome by a suffocating sense of relief moments later. She turns to Violet, a grin on her face.  

"Thank you! This feels so much better," Sophia gushes, and before she can convince herself not to, she leaps forward, throwing her arms around Violet and pulling the woman into a tight hug. She realizes what she does moments later, but before she can pull away and apologize, Violet is hugging her back. 

It feels nice to hug someone again, Sophia realizes. The last time someone had hugged her must've been her mom a few minutes before she had gotten lost in the woods. And that was what... two years ago? Sophia doesn't know. While Violet's hug is nowhere near as comforting or as warm as Carol Peletier's are, but it nearly brings Sophia to tears either way. She hadn't realized how touch-starved she was up until now. 

"You're welcome, kid," the woman whispers. 

"Jesus Christ, I am about to fucking piss myself." 

Sophia leans her forehead against the window and watches blankly as the landscape rushes by. Kiwi is, once again, sitting by her feet -- practically on top of them, really. She doesn't look away from the blur of colors and trees when she hears Clara's complaint. But Heather does. 

"Well, how about you try and wait a little longer, dumbass. We're stopping soon." 

Sophia rolls her eyes, having already grown used to the way that Heather and Clara interact. They always seem to be insulting each other, but according to Violet, that's just their way of showing affection. She taps her fingers against the cool glass of the minivan. They had to abandon the truck when they ran out of gas, but Sophia isn't really complaining. She prefers the minivan much more.

Maybe that's just because she doesn't have to be out in the open like she had in the truck. That and there's more space.

"Are we, though?" Clara retorts. "You said that ten minutes ago." 

Sophia straightens up slightly, puffing out her cheeks and scratching at an itch on her collarbone. She exchanges a look with Violet, who is, once again, in the driver's seat. Sophia doesn't think she's ever seen Heather or Clara drive.

"Ten minutes isn't that long, you weirdo," says Heather, glowering at the other woman. Kiwi makes a faint growling noise at the back of her throat. Sophia reaches down to pat Kiwi on the head, trying to let the dog know that everything was fine. Kiwi isn't entirely used to the way Heather and Clara bicker. 

Sophia pulls her hand back after a few moments, returning to staring out the window as Clara and Heather argue beside her -- she wonders how Violet hasn't gone insane from it already. While being around people again is nice, Sophia still doesn't like being around those who argue. It reminds her too much of her father. 

"Can you guys shut up for a second?" Violet asks, squinting at the road. "You're driving me nuts."

"Shut up, Violet." Clara and Heather say in unison before promptly returning to their argument. 

Violet just sighs.

Sophia squeezes her eyes shut. Fists her hands in Kiwi's fur. The seatbelt bites into her stomach, and she resists the urge to just undo it. Her mom always said that a seatbelt could save her life, so no matter how uncomfortable it may be, Sophia is keeping it. She wonders if the reason her mom had been so insistent on wearing seatbelts had been because of her father. 

That would make a lot of sense, actually. Her father was drunk most of the time, but despite that, he insisted on driving whenever they got into the car. Said something along the lines of, 'Don't want you bitches destroying my car.' Which Sophia finds hilarious because the car ended up being abandoned anyway. It's probably rusting away somewhere in Georgia at this very moment.

She hopes it got destroyed. It would certainly serve her father right. He fucking loved that car more than he loved his own goddamn wife and daughter. 

Sophia thinks back on the times where he would beat her mom to near-death whenever the car got so much as scratched. She feels the hate and bitterness well up inside her in a wave. 

Her hands twitch. She wishes he were still alive so she could give him a piece of her mind. But she's not entirely upset about him being dead either. He deserved what he got. 

She just prays that her mom hadn't gotten the same fate. 

Her mom doesn't deserve a death as gruesome as that. If her mom is, in fact, dead, Sophia would want that death to be as painless as possible. It's what her mom deserves.

Sophia isn't stupid, far from it, really. She knows the likelihood of her mom still being alive. It's close to none. And even if her mom isn't dead, the chances of Sophia finding her again are slim. 

"Hey! Stop fucking elbowing me, would you? You're being annoying, Clara," Heather snaps, and when Sophia looks up, she sees the woman swatting Clara on the arm. 

Clara's response is to stick her tongue out at her. "Then stop bullying me." The look on Heather's face is one of annoyance but not one of surprise. 

"Will you two just shut up," snaps Violet, like Heather and Clara are just a pair of two bickering siblings on a family road trip. In a way, that's not all that far from what they really are. It's kind of like a road trip, just during the end of the world. Well, Sophia thinks it is. She hasn't really been on a road trip before. Her father was too drunk half the time and would never let her mom touch the car. "You two are getting on my last nerve."

This time, Clara and Heather do look a little more apologetic. "Right... sorry, Vi," Heather mumbles, a faint blush covering her cheeks. 

Clara nods, "Yeah, sorry." 

Violet just sighs again. Sophia looks back to the window.

She loses track of time after a while, just sitting there in the car with her hands curled up in Kiwi's fur -- she doesn't know if it's been only a few minutes or another hour, and she doesn't care. All she knows is that she sits, curled up in her seat, and doesn't say a single word until the car begins to slow down. 

Why is Violet stopping?

Sophia lifts her head from the window, totally silent as she takes in what lies before her. She sees that Clara and Heather are just as confused as she is, and it takes Sophia a moment or two to fully comprehend what she is even seeing. 

Her grip on Kiwi's fur tightens.

Sophia straightens up in her seat, squinting as she peers out at the road before her. She sees cars -- lots and lots of them. They all appear abandoned, and as Sophia glances around, she feels a feeling of dread bubble up in her stomach. 

This is looking weirdly familiar. And Sophia means that in a bad way -- these cars all piled up here, abandoned. Sophia is horribly reminded of the herd that had come through that highway nearly two years ago. The one that had caused her to get separated from her mom in the first place.

Heather sits up, "Vi? What's going on? What's with all these cars?"

Violet's lips are pursed, and the woman looks deathly pale as she peers at the road stretched out before them. "Must have been abandoned in the beginning."

Sophia really doesn't like where this is going right now. Not. At. All. "Can we go through it?" She asks, but she already knows the answer.

Still, she feels her heart sink when she hears Clara let out an annoyed huff. "Does it look like we can get through that, Phia?" 

"Don't be mean, Clara," Heather hisses, smacking the other woman on the shoulder. But instead of protesting to it like she usually does, Clara stays silent, her face unnaturally pale. 

She glances out the window again, at the lane spread out before her. Sophia presses her face to the window, squinting as she searches the area for any sign of life. Or undead life. She can't see any walkers, but at this point, she knows that there can be hundreds hiding somewhere nearby -- ones that can be heading toward them right now.

But no matter how hard she looks, Sophia can't spy a single walker hidden amongst the hundreds of cars. A feeling of unease creeps up her spine, and Sophia unconsciously shifts away from the window. Kiwi, as if sensing Sophia's anxiousness, jumps up onto her lap. Sophia immediately wraps both arms around the dog, fisting her hands in the thick fur and taking in a shaky breath as Violet slowly but surely navigates the car through the wreckage. 

Sophia hopes that there's a way through this. That they don't have to get out of the car. She remembers the last time that happened all too well, and she doesn't want to have that kind of experience ever again.

"Vi," Heather says in a harsh whisper, "do you think we should turn around and just... head back? There's probably another road we can take."

Sophia likes that idea. They should just turn around. Things would be much safer that way, wouldn't they? But Violet shakes her head at Heather's suggestion, a frown tugging at her lips. "No, wait. Hang on. I think I can get us through this. I just need to be slow." 

"I don't think there is a way through," Sophia insists, "I agree with Heather. We should just turn around."

"Sophia, please. I got this," Violet argues, her knuckles white with how tight she's gripping the wheel, "just--- just give me a minute, alright? I can figure this out."

"Can you?" Clara snaps, but there's much less bite in her words as there usually is. Violet says something in return, but Sophia isn't paying much attention to the argument happening in front of her anymore -- she can't. She can feel her vision blurring, and she blinks back the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Sophia just wants to get off this highway before something terrible happens. 

But Violet insists that she can navigate them through the maze of abandoned cars. While Sophia definitely hopes that the woman can do it, she already knows how likely something like that is. But still, she remains quiet. And neither Heather nor Clara seems to want to argue either. So Sophia just holds Kiwi tighter and prays for some kind of miracle. 

Except she really should have known, huh? Miracles aren't real. Because if they were, then Sophia would have found her mom a long time ago. 

"Oh, that does not look good," Heather whispers suddenly. When Sophia looks over, the woman has her seatbelt unbuckled and is sitting on her knees, facing the rear windshield with a look of horror painting her face -- she's gripping the headrest so hard that her knuckles have turned white, and she looks paler than she had ever been before. 

That dread forming in Sophia's stomach only grows. But before she can convince herself not to, she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets up onto her knees as well. It takes her a moment to locate the source of Heather's horror, but when she does, she can actually feel her heart stop. 

Oh.

That is definitely not good. 

On the other lane, a few yards back, something is moving. Something is weaving through the maze of cars and piled up junk. It isn't a person, though. Nor is it any kind of animal. 

It's a walker.

At first, Sophia only sees the one, and she sits there for a couple seconds, sort of just wondering why that had scared Heather so much. But then one walker turns into two, and two turns into four, and four turns into ten, and ten turns into fifteen, and then-

Sophia loses count, and a horrible feeling of deja-vu washes over her. 

This is just like it had been two years ago. Like it had been when Sophia had first gotten lost only--- only here, there's so much more. The walkers keep coming and coming, and Sophia doesn't think she's ever seen this many in one place before. Not even the herd two years ago had been this big, and since then, the largest group of walkers she's seen had been around ten. 

This one has hundreds.

And more just keep coming.

Chapter Text

Sophia can only stare...

And stare...

And stare...

There are hundreds upon hundreds of walkers slowly making their way down the road -- toward the van that the group currently sits in. The growing herd hasn't appeared to have noticed them yet, but Sophia knows that it's only a matter of time before that changes. And when it does, this car isn't going to keep them safe.

Maybe if there had only been a couple walkers, they would be fine, but this many? 

No way.

No way in hell. 

They aren't going to stand a chance against this many walkers.

"Fuck!" Heather says, her voice much too loud. While she knows that the chances of the walkers hearing them in the car is low, Sophia still cringes -- Heather doesn't seem to care; instead, she quickly scrambles forward to grab at Violet's shoulder, who remains oblivious to the herd of walkers growing behind them. 

Violet shoves the hand off her shoulder, turning around to glare at Heather. "Goddammit, Heather, we aren't turning-"

Then, she stops, her eyes pinned on the rearview mirror. Her mouth drops open, and all the annoyance melts off her face as her skin completely drains itself of color. Violet quickly undoes her seatbelt, climbing onto her knees and peering out at the steadily growing herd. She blinks rapidly, rubbing her eyes as if she can hardly believe what she is seeing. 

God, Sophia wishes it was just an illusion. That would make things so much better. 

"Well fuck me," Violet whispers. She slips back down into her seat, "Clara, how heavy are our bags?" 

Clara glances up, "I--- I don't know." Clara then peers out at the walkers, her face as white as a sheet. "Wait... why are you asking?" There's a hint of dread in her voice, intermingled with curiosity. And Sophia can't help but feel the same, but she doesn't dare ask. 

Violet takes in a shaky breath, "Just... just find out which ones are heaviest."

Clara nods and immediately starts doing as asked, picking up bags and looking inside, rummaging through them as the air around them grows thick with fear and tension. 

Heather has gone back to staring out at the walkers. "Do you think we can drive on the median?" She asks, not taking her eyes off the herd.

Sophia feels the terror clamp at her heart. The suggestion isn't necessarily a bad one. But she has a feeling that something like that isn't going to work.

She slides back down into her seat, clinging to Kiwi, who has her ears pinned back and her teeth bared in a snarl. Sophia buries her face into the dog's thick fur, praying that this is all just a bad dream and that she'll wake up in her mom's arms in a matter of moments. But deep down, she knows this isn't a dream -- this isn't a nightmare, and she won't wake up safe and sound in a world without the dead. 

She hears Violet take in a shaky breath as she puts the van into reverse, taking her foot off the brakes and spinning the wheel around. When Sophia pries open one eye, she sees Violet angling the van at the median, doing something else that puts the car out of reverse. Sophia's mind is too clouded by fear to really care about what Violet might be doing. As long as it doesn't get them killed-

Sophia takes in a shuddering breath, trying to fight back the tears that are now threatening to fall. She hears Heather cursing, and when Sophia, against her better judgment, gets back onto her knees to look, she feels the blood draining from her face all over again. 

The movement of the van must have finally caught the herd's attention because--- Because now they're all turning slowly, feet stumbling across the pavement as their teeth click together, rotted and graying hands outstretched toward the van. Sophia's heart leaps high into her throat, and she quickly slides back down into her seat, wishing she had never looked.

She hears someone swear. Sophia doesn't know who -- probably Clara, maybe Heather. She doesn't know, and she doesn't care. She just wants to get out of here.

Kiwi has her feet on the window now, a low growl escaping from her. Sophia pulls Kiwi close to her once again, trying to stifle the sob that yearns to escape from her. Sophia bites on her wrist to hold it back, not even wincing as her teeth break skin and her own blood seeps onto her tongue. 

She feels the acceptance wash over her in a wave. This is it. They're trapped in the van as the dead close in on all sides. She can see them through her own window now, slowly stumbling closer. 

They're going to die. 

They're going to be torn apart, eaten alive, ripped to pieces. Or they're going to starve to death when they run out of food in the van -- that is if the dead don't end up breaking through first. 

Sophia can't help the shriek that escapes her when something slams into the back of the van, rocking it forward. She hears Heather cursing, and she doesn't have to look up to know that the herd has reached the car and are now hurling themselves at the rear windshield, rotting and torn fingernails scratching at the glass. Sophia sinks further down into her seat, this time not bothering to stop the tears that are streaming down her face. 

She glances over at the three women in the car with her.

At least she isn't going to die alone.

More and more walkers reach the van, and Sophia flinches back as a bloody hand slams into the window beside her. A rotting face appears, and then another, and another. More appear, piling on top of one another until they've blocked out all the sunlight. Sophia eyes the glass warily, holding Kiwi closer as the dog begins to bark.

She wonders if there's any way for Kiwi to get out of this alive. If anyone was to survive this, she'd want it to be Kiwi.

"I have an idea," Violet says slowly, eyeing the windows nervously, "but I don't think any of you are going to like it." That quickly grabs everyone's attention, and Sophia wonders how the hell Violet can actually have an idea that would get them out of something like this alive. 

"Try me," Clara mumbles, her face pale as she stares at the windows.

"I think we need to leave the car," Violet says, confident as ever. 

What.

Sophia stares at her.

Please tell me she isn't serious. 

There's a long bout of silence, and then-

"What?" Heather says, her voice dangerously low and bristling with rage. Sophia can't blame her. If she hadn't been as terrified as she is now, she would probably feel similarly. "Violet, are you crazy?"

Good question. Sophia would like to know as well.

"Possibly," Violet admits, "but there's nothing else we can do. Look around, Heather. What other options do you see?" Sophia glances around, her stomach doing a flip when she notices a crack in the glass. Oh, that's bad.

In the front seat, Violet continues on, her voice growing louder with every word. "If we stay here, more and more of them will just keep piling up. Maybe break the glass-" she points toward the window with the crack, "-and where would we be then? Torn to pieces? If we leave the van, we might have a chance."

Sophia hates to admit it, but Violet has some pretty good points. If they stay here, the walkers are going to break through the glass eventually. While leaving the van could still get them killed, it also might not. And as much as Sophia really doesn't want to leave the car, she also doesn't want to be eaten alive if there's a way to stop it. 

"She's right," Clara says, her voice barely a whisper. "Leaving is the only chance we have-" outside, a walker slams its head into Sophia's window, the crack on the glass grows larger "-we can probably take a few bags with us, too. I'm assuming that's why you asked how heavy they were?" The last bit is directed toward Violet, who nods.

"Wanted to see if we could take anything with us," Violet says. Then, her gaze moves to Heather, "do we still have that shotgun in the back?" Sophia blinks owlishly, vaguely remembering the shotgun that Clara had found a couple days ago in a walker-invested town. Did they even have any ammo for it?

Heather nods jerkily, getting back onto her knees to reach into the back of the car. There's the sound of her rummaging around for a few moments, and she appears again, shotgun in hand. Heather passes it over to Violet. "You sure this will work?" she asks.

"Well, we sure as hell can't stay here," Violet says, her face grim. She runs a hand over the shotgun, checking if it's loaded before snapping it back shut in a way that tells Sophia that she's used a gun like this before. Not exactly surprisingly, considering her background.

Sophia wonders if this is how it all ends, being torn apart by a herd of walkers. It would certainly be ironic, wouldn't it? She escaped death on one highway only to get killed on another. Maybe this was how it was always meant to end. 

Clara hands Sophia a bag before giving another one to Heather. Violet climbs out of the driver's seat, breathing in a deep breath as she faces the small group. She sends a strained smile in Sophia's direction. 

Sophia doesn't have the energy to return it. 

Violet's gaze sweeps over Heather, Clara, and Sophia. Then, she sighs. "Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully," when she's sure that she has everyone's attention, she continues, "Okay, I'm going to open that door and start firing, you all are going to run-"

"Wait, you're not coming?" Clara blurts, and Violet heaves a heavy sigh.

"I'm creating an opening," the redhead explains, sending Clara a warning glance, "once I do, I want you to run. I'll try and follow you the best I can, but there's no guarantee that I'll make it." There's no guarantee any of us will make it, are the words that go unsaid. "Once that door opens, you're going to make a break for the trees. If you don't think you can run for long, try to climb a tree. Wait until the biters are gone, and try to stick together if you can."

"No," Clara says, shaking her head. She reaches out, grabbing Violet's hand, "Vi, we aren't going to just leave you here-"

"You can and you will," Violet insists, but then her face softens somewhat. She squeezes Clara's hand, "I'll be fine, Clara - but if we all go out there, then someone needs to stay behind to try and keep the dead ones from coming after everyone else."

Clara doesn't say anything else, just nods and lets go of Violet's hand. Heather reaches out, giving Violet's shoulder a squeeze, and Sophia feels her stomach plummet when she realizes that this is it, this might be the last time she sees any of her friends alive. 

Friends. When did she start considering them her friends?

She doesn't know. 

But they are. Clara is her friend, Violet is her friend, and Heather is her friend. And Sophia doesn't think she'll be able to stand it if something happens to any of them. She squeezes Kiwi tighter, grabbing her gun with the other hand. 

Violet nods at Sophia -- at the gun. "Try not to use that thing if you don't have to. Guns are loud, and you need to attract as little attention as possible."

"Okay," Sophia says, and she reaches into her pocket to take out her knife instead. Violet nods again, looking satisfied with her response. 

"Shit," says Heather, "we better hurry up." Sophia looks up at where the woman is pointing, blanching when she sees the various cracks on the glass -- spreading out like spiderwebs and growing bigger with every push. 

Right, time to go.

Sophia forces herself to get up, squatting between the middle seats with Heather and Clara. She has a bag hanging from her shoulder, a hand fisted in Kiwi's fur, and another hand is gripping her knife tight enough that her knuckles turn white. Heather reaches out, pulling Violet into a tight hug before turning away to grab the door handle, waiting for a cue to open it. Clara hugs Violet too, and Sophia finds herself doing the same.

Is this a goodbye? She wants to ask when Violet lets go of her. Will I ever see you again?

The acceptance that is set in Violet's eyes is enough of an answer to Sophia. 

"I'm going to count to three," Violet says, raising her shotgun. Her gaze sweeps over the three of them, and the look on her face is both sad and determined. "One..."

Sophia takes in a shaky breath, grip on Kiwi tightening. Heather tenses and Clara adjusts the straps on the two bags she carries.

"Two."

Sophia positions herself behind Heather, glances over at Violet.

"Three."

Heather wrenches the door open.

Everything after that is total chaos.

There's the sound of a gun firing, over and over and over again, each of the rounds loud enough to make Sophia's ears ring, but she hardly notices. She sees walkers falling, and Heather is darting out, and Clara is pushing at Sophia's back, urging her to move. Next thing Sophia knows, she's diving out of the van, one hand curled around her knife and the other holding onto Kiwi's neck, trying to keep the dog from running away. She can distantly hear Kiwi barking, but the sound is drowned out by the walker's groans and Violet's shotgun.

Violet has managed to clear out a decent amount of walkers -- the ones surrounding the side they had run out. It gives the three of them enough space to rush away from the van, away from the herd. Sophia forces herself to move, wincing as Violet fires round after round at the walkers. The shotgun is loud, and Sophia has no doubt that every walker in the vicinity is now heading their way if they hadn't been before.

Then, the gunshots stop.

A scream splits the air.

Sophia jerks her head around, eyes going wide when she sees the walkers flooding into the van. Violet. Heather lets out a heartwrenching scream and tries to run forward, but Clara grabs her around the waist as she passes, holding her back. 

"No--- let go of me!" Heather shrieks.

"Heather, we have to go, now!" Clara shouts over the walker's groans, trying to pull Heather away. But Heather isn't budging. She fights against Clara's hold, twisting and squirming and trying to free herself so she can run to Violet -- or to her remains.

"Heather, move it!" Sophia cries, trying to assist Clara. But Heather just shoves her away, her yells of anguish only getting louder. 

Kiwi is barking even louder now, and a part of Sophia prays that it will make Heather realize just how dangerous the situation is. They have to get out of here so Violet's death wouldn't be for nothing -- they had to get out of here before the walkers noticed them. 

Too late.

The herd is already beginning to move away from Violet now, attracted by Kiwi's barking and Heather's screams. Sophia feels her stomach drop when she realizes. They have to move now, or else they would die. But Clara clearly isn't ready to give up on Heather. Not now. And-

Sophia makes a decision.

She lets go of Kiwi, pulls out her gun. Aims.

Shoots.

Heather falls forward, blood spurting out of a hole in her head. Clara yelps and lets go of her waist in shock, stumbling backward as Heather's body hits the ground. Sophia grabs Clara's hand, whistling to Kiwi, and takes off in the opposite direction, as far away from the walkers as she can get. Kiwi runs alongside them, thankfully not running off like Sophia thought she would.

"Stop! Stop!" Clara yells after a minute or two of running through the maze of cars, trying to get to the treeline. She tears her hand from Sophia's grasp, and Sophia pulls to a reluctant stop, eyeing the walkers that are slowly making their way toward them.

"Clara, we have to go," Sophia insists, tears burning at her eyes. "We can't stay here!" Her hands are shaking, and she stuffs her gun back into her pocket, fearing she would end up dropping it if she held it for a moment longer. She can't get that image out of her mind, of the bullethole in Heather's head, the one that had come out of her own gun. Sophia had just killed someone. Her own friend at that! 

What kind of person does that make you? Her mind whispers.

"Yeah, no shit!" Clara hisses, whipping around to glare at Sophia. "What the fuck was that? How could you just... how could you just shoot Heather like that?!"

"I had to! She was going to get us killed, couldn't you see that?!" Sophia yells back, voice crack in grief. Tears blur her vision, and she feels Kiwi brush up against her leg.

"I had it covered," Clara yells, stepping closer, "I could've-" She stops, "I almost-"

"I did it to save you," Sophia says hoarsely.

The walkers are getting closer. They need to get out of here, but Clara isn't moving. 

"Heather is dead, Sophia! Heather is dead, Violet is dead, do you even realize what you did?!"

Clara takes a step in Sophia's direction, eyes narrowed. She reaches out a hand as if about to grab Sophia, but then Kiwi leaps forward, teeth bared in a snarl. Sophia is vaguely aware of the walkers slowly making their way toward them.

Something flashes in Clara's eyes. The woman's shoulders slump. She looks so... so defeated. "She's... she's gone. You fucking killed her, you just... just gunned her down, like she was nothing!" Her voice cracks, and Sophia feels her heart ache. 

"I didn't want to shoot her!" Sophia snaps back, fists clenching by her side as she struggles to regain control of her emotions. "Heather was my friend too, Clara! But you saw what she tried to do when Violet-" her voice breaks with grief, but she forces herself to continue "-you saw what she did when she heard Violet. She was trying to run in there. Heather was going to get herself killed anyway! I just... I made it painless." 

Clara stares at her. "I..." she trails off, glancing back in the direction of the car they had just abandoned. They can't see it anymore, but they can hear the hundreds of walkers surrounding it, groaning and gurgling as they tear the bodies of Violet and Heather apart. 

The walkers that have followed Clara and Sophia are closer now, giving them no time to grieve. They start emerging from behind various cars, eyes blank and teeth clicking together at the sight of fresh meat. 

Sophia reaches out. She grabs Clara's hand. "We need to go." 

Clara just nods. They start running again, Kiwi at their heels. 

They weave through the seemingly endless wave of cars, dodging walkers and trying to find a way to get off the highway and into the forest. Sophia can't help but realize how ironic it is. Two years ago, she had been trying to find her way back onto the highway and out of the forest, but now, here she is. Trying to do the exact opposite. Maybe Sophia would have laughed if her mind wasn't so numb, if the situation wasn't so dangerous and terrifying. 

Sophia's eyes dart around the area, searching for some kind of escape route. The road ahead of them is blocked by even more cars, and the further they run, the harder it gets to navigate. Sophia can't even see how far away the forest is, and she has a feeling that Clara doesn't either. They just run and run, evading walkers as best they can, until Kiwi pulls to a sudden stop.

Sophia stops too, confused. She reaches out a hand, about to grab the dog by the scruff of the neck so they can continue running, but then she hears Clara curse beside her. She looks up, and Sophia can't help but cry out when she sees the endless amounts of walkers that start spilling from the gaps between them. Where the hell did those come from? 

"Fucking fuckity fuck fuck!" Clara hisses, tearing a hand through her hair. She glances back at the walkers behind them and then at the walkers in front of them. "This way," the woman then demands, grabbing Sophia's hand again and running to the right. Sophia doesn't protest. She's much too terrified to even think about it.

With walkers coming in on both sides, Sophia feels as if she can hardly breathe. Her throat closes up, her chest tightens, her eyes blur with tears. But they might make it. She can see the guardrails now and the forest beyond it. They're almost there, just a few more seconds, and they can finally escape the seemingly endless amounts of walkers. They get closer and closer and-

Clara screams. 

The scream splits the air much like Violet's had. The hand that had been wrapped around Sophia's tightens for a second but then falls away, and Sophia can only watch in horror as a large walker digs its teeth into Clara's throat. It must have been walking behind one of the cars, Sophia realizes numbly, only able to stare as the walker tears a chunk out of Clara's neck, spraying blood all over Sophia and-

-Kiwi lunges forward, digging her teeth into the walker's skull. The walker goes limp, and Sophia snaps out of it and darts over, rolling the corpse off of Clara's and nearly throwing up when she sees the chunk that the walker had taken out of the woman's throat. 

Clara is still alive, pressing a hand to the hole in her neck. Fruitlessly trying to stop the blood that pours out. Sophia chokes back a sob, pulling out her gun again. The rest of the walkers are closing in, and Sophia should be running, but she isn't about to leave her friend to be eaten alive. 

Her vision blurs. Her finger moves to the trigger.

She shoots.

The sound nearly deafens her. 

She turns right as another walker stumbles out from behind another car, hands reaching for her. Sophia doesn't think about it as she shoots at it, doesn't stay to watch as it falls. She shoots at the next walker that comes, tears trailing down her cheeks.

Sophia doesn't have enough ammo for this.

She lowers the gun, turns her back to Clara's body, and runs toward the guardrail. 

She doesn't look back even when she hears the walkers ripping into Clara's corpse. Doesn't look back when she hears the rest of the herd stumbling after her. 

Kiwi leaps over the guardrail, Sophia quickly does the same. She follows Kiwi as she runs into the trees, this time not bothering to stifle her sobs as she runs further and further away from the highway that killed her friends. 

Sophia doesn't dare look back. She doesn't think she can.

She just runs.

Sophia runs.

It's all she can even do at this point. Just keep running. Run and run and run so the dead won't catch her. Leaves crunch loudly underfoot as she ventures further into the woods, the dead not far behind. She can hear them following her: their groans, their hungry gurgles, their clumsy footsteps, tripping and stumbling over every little thing. It's a neverending chorus of noise that she knows will haunt her for a long, long time. 

If she even lives a long time. 

At this rate, she doubts it.

Sophia can see Kiwi running somewhere ahead of her, but barely. The dog's shape is blurry, and a part of Sophia wonders if Kiwi is gonna leave her here for the walkers. Sophia certainly wouldn't blame her. She glances behind her, heart in her throat. The nearest walker is just barely visible in the distance, but she knows that the rest of them aren't far behind. They always are. Sophia stumbles behind a large tree, pressing her back to it as she fights to catch her breath.

She has a couple of minutes before the rest of the herd catches up to her, probably -- hopefully. Sophia lets her head hit the bark of the tree, breathing heavily as she slides down to the ground, heart thundering in her chest fast enough she's surprised it doesn't burst right out. She feels a wet nose press against her hand, and she glances down to see Kiwi standing there, ears pinned to her head and looking very distressed. The dog whimpers, nudging Sophia's hand. It's like she's telling her to keep going. To keep running until they escape the walkers.

Sophia doesn't think she can. 

She isn't Violet. She doesn't have long legs, she hasn't trained in the army, she has no idea where to go, and-

The thought of Violet, and therefore Clara and Heather, causes Sophia's heart to ache and her eyes to blur with even more tears. They hadn't deserved what they got; none of them did. They should have lived. Violet didn't deserve to be torn apart; Heather didn't deserve to have a bullet put in her head; Clara didn't deserve to have her life ripped from her mere moments before escaping the highway-

A low growl from nearby forces Sophia to look up, dread pooling in her stomach -- the herd had gotten closer now. The nearest walker has spotted her and is stumbling toward her and Kiwi, teeth clicking together and another growl escaping it at the sight of fresh meat. Kiwi whimpers, nudging Sophia's hand again, urging her to get up. Sophia moans in pain but complies, slowly but surely pushing herself up from the ground. 

Just keep going. You don't want Violet's death to be for nothing, do you? She died to get you, Heather, and Clara out alive. The least you can do is try to survive for her. 

Just... just keep going.

Keep... just go... keep running.

Distantly, she hears Kiwi attacking the walker that had spotted Sophia, but the next thing she knows, Kiwi is brushing against her leg, as if urging her forward. Sophia barely feels it, and she knows it's only a matter of time before she collapses -- either from exhaustion or something else. It's nighttime now, and it had been around midday by the time Sophia had escaped the highway. She had been running for hours, and there's no way she can go on for much longer.

She staggers through the trees, no longer running as she used to be. She doesn't have the energy for that. Instead, she's just stumbling, moving to a similar pace as the walkers behind her are, though she can gradually feel herself slowing down. She tries to go faster, but the action only brings her more pain. Every one of Sophia's muscles screams in protest, and beads of sweat trickle down her face, sticking to her neck and soaking into the fabric of her shirt. 

Everything hurts.

Her head.

Her feet.

Her heart.

Her lungs.

Everything...

The darker part of Sophia wonders if she should just stop here. If she should just lie down and let the walkers get her. It would certainly be a lot easier than forcing herself to continue stumbling through the trees. Painful, sure, but it would be over quickly. She wonders if her mom is already up there. Maybe if Sophia just lets herself be eaten, she'll get to see her mom again. That would be nice, Sophia thinks. 

Would her mom hug her? Sophia misses her mom's hugs so, so much. It would be nice to feel them again. All she had to do was... was just stop walking. She just had to let the walkers take her, and then she would get to see her mom. Not only that, but she would get to see Violet, Clara, Heather, and maybe even Amy. She misses Amy. Amy had been kind to Sophia in the short time they'd known one another.

She wonders who else in her old group might be waiting up there. Would Carl be there? Mr. Grimes? She doubts they would. Mr. Grimes and Carl were tough -- they're probably still alive somewhere. Maybe Mrs. Grimes too. Sophia can't really imagine Mr. Dixon being dead. Or Mr. Walsh. But who knows? Certainly not Sophia, but even if they are up there, Sophia wouldn't mind hugging Mr. Dixon, even if he had scared the fuck out of her before.

Sophia considers her options. She can hear Kiwi growling nearby, and the dog's fur brushes against her leg again. A stab of pain shoots through her -- even if Sophia isn't able to continue on, she doesn't want Kiwi to be alone either. Would Kiwi be able to survive alone? Sophia would like to think that, yes, Kiwi would manage just fine all alone. But the thing is, she isn't sure.

A low groan sounds from behind her, and fear shoots through Sophia when she realizes how close it is. Despite her earlier thoughts, Sophia forces herself to move faster, not having the courage to stop quite yet. She takes one step, two, three... another, and another, and another... She fights for every step, and it's getting harder and harder to move. 

Everywhere she turns, there's a walker, and wherever she looks, there's a walker. It's like they are appearing out of thin air. 

Sophia's foot slips out from underneath her, and she hears Kiwi start to bark as she falls with a cry of pain. Sophia feels Kiwi's wet nose nudging at her arm. She tries to push herself back up, but her muscles are weak, and every movement is near agonizing. Sophia takes in a wheezing breath, her vision blurred with tears as she lets her head flop onto the forest floor. Sophia curls up, closing her eyes, silently apologizing to Kiwi and waits for the feeling of rotted hands on her, of teeth ripping into her flesh. 

Instead of any of that, she hears gunfire.

Sophia feels the confusion well up inside her, and she tries lifting her head, but her attempts are futile. She just lies there, ears ringing. She pries open her eyes, but her vision is blurry. Sophia can vaguely see someone standing over her but is unable to make out any real details. 

"Well shit, kid," the voice belongs to a man -- low and clear -- and she can somehow hear it above the gunfire and the ringing in her ears, "what the hell happened to you?" A hand reaches down, and Sophia flinches as gloved fingers touch her cheek.

Sophia whimpers, and she hears the man curse before yelling something to his companions, who were probably shooting the guns. The next thing she knows, Sophia is being lifted up into a pair of strong arms as the gunfire echoes around them.

Sophia wants to protest. She wants to squirm and run away, but she's so, so tired. So, instead of doing any of that, she closes her eyes, and the whole world goes black. 

Chapter Text

When Sophia wakes up, she has no idea how long she has been unconscious: maybe hours, days, weeks, or even months. She doesn't know. But what she does know is that one moment she was in the forest, an unknown man hovering over her, and now she's here. Wherever here is. Sophia's lying on something soft... a bed, perhaps? She scrunches up her face, trying not to groan when she becomes aware of the piercing headache that's finally decided to make itself known.

What the...?

There's the sound of a door opening, and Sophia tenses up almost instantly. She hears footsteps nearing the spot where Sophia lies, and then she listens as the person starts walking around, mumbling under their breath as they do who knows what. A part of Sophia wonders if she should feign sleeping. But another part of her is much too curious for that. Slowly, she blinks open her eyes. Her eyelids feel heavy, and she groans as a bright light shines into her face, blinding her momentarily. 

Immediately, the footsteps move to her bedside. When Sophia's vision clears, a man is standing there, but not the same one she had seen before. This one is wearing white, clean clothes. Where the fuck did someone manage to get clean clothes from in a world like this? Sophia doesn't know. But what she does know is that a man is standing right in front of her. A stranger at that -- Violet's words come flooding back to her, and she stares at the man in suspicion. 

If the man notices the suspicion in her stare, he ignores it. "Good," he says in a monotonous voice -- nothing like the one she had heard in the forest, "you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Sophia doesn't respond. She just stares at the man, her eyes narrowed as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. The room they're in looks a lot like the nurse's office back at her old school. That's most likely what it is, now that she thinks about it -- an infirmary of some kind. That meant this man is a doctor of some sort. Huh. That would explain the clothes he wears. 

Sophia pushes herself up into a sitting position, trying not to groan again as her arms start to ache and wobble from the strain. The man pushes her back down before she can get up completely, and Sophia acts before she thinks, pulling her arm from his grip and slashing him across the face. "Don't touch me," she hisses, her voice coming out dry and cracked from disuse. 

The man stumbles backward, swearing quietly. He presses a hand to his face, and when he pulls it away, Sophia sees blood welling up across his cheek. Instead of looking angry, the man just sighs heavily. "Should have expected that," she hears him mutter under his breath. He starts rummaging around in a nearby cabinet, not paying Sophia much attention. 

"Where am I?" Sophia demands, ignoring the dryness in her throat. She glances around, painfully aware that Kiwi is nowhere to be seen. "Where's my dog?" 

The man doesn't respond; he just starts dabbing something onto the scratch on his face. Sophia repeats herself, an icy fear gripping her heart, "where's my dog?"

"Your dog is fine," the man says finally, "you, on the other hand, are not," he leaves her line of sight for a moment, and when he reappears, he's holding a glass of water in his hands. He hands it to Sophia, who takes it, still eyeing him with suspicion. She doesn't drink any of it, though. While her throat is beyond parched, she doesn't know this man, and she doesn't know what he may or may not have put in the glass. 

The man sighs again -- okay, this is getting annoying; what is with this guy and sighing? "You're most likely very dehydrated right now. Drink."

Sophia hates to admit it, but he has a point. Her throat feels like it's filled with thorns, and her head feels like it's being repeatedly hit with a bowling ball. Neither are good feelings, and she knows from experience that they are both caused by dehydration. Reluctantly, she puts the glass of water to her mouth, taking a few tentative sips. The water trickles down her throat, and she immediately drinks a little more, sighing in relief when the pain in her head clears slightly. 

"Where am I?" Sophia asks again, her voice clearer this time, and she absently reaches up to scratch an itch on her face, only to become aware of an IV that is poking out of the crease of her elbow. That's new, she thinks.

"The infirmary," the man says, which really isn't all that helpful at all, "I'm not sure if you remember what happened, but you were found running from a herd of biters a few miles north of here-" where the fuck is here? "-you passed out from exhaustion not long after. When you were brought back, you were suffering from some serious exhaustion and dehydration." 

Sophia's lips twitch down into a frown. She drains the rest of the water, quiet for a couple of seconds.

"My dog..?"

"As I said, she's fine," the man says, walking over and checking the IV attached to her arm, "we've been taking care of her. Well, Sherry has. That dog of yours bites anyone else who tries to come close to her." The man shakes her head, and Sophia can't help but smile. It's good to hear that Kiwi is okay. Sophia doesn't think she'd be able to handle it if something happened to her.

The man takes the now empty glass of water from her. "You're very, very lucky to be alive right now," he says to her, "from what I've heard, you were moments away from being torn apart by that herd."

Right. Lucky.

Sophia certainly doesn't feel lucky.

An image of Clara comes to mind, of that walker pinning her down, taking a chunk out of her throat. Then she thinks of Heather, of the bullet hole in her head, of the way she fell to the ground after Sophia pulled the trigger. Finally, she thinks of Violet, who had gone through one of the most painful deaths known just to try and give her friends a fighting chance. 

Sophia fights back the tears that are now threatening to fall.

If she were lucky, then she would have been able to save her own friends. 

If she were lucky, then she wouldn't have gotten separated from her mom in the first place.

If she were lucky, then she would have been back in her mom's arms a long time ago.

"I've gotta see her," Sophia insists, trying to swing her legs over the side of the bed. Her limbs feel weak and floppy, making it hard for her to move them. But the need to see Kiwi is much stronger than that. She needs to see the proof that Kiwi is okay with her own two eyes. She isn't going to just take some stranger's word for it. Sophia isn't going to really relax until she sees Kiwi again.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. You need to rest. Plus, Negan wants to talk to you once you've recovered some more. You can see your dog after," the man says, pushing her back onto the bed with little trouble. This time, Sophia doesn't have the energy to swipe at him as she had before. He steps back, grabbing something off a nearby counter -- a needle. Sophia sees him filling the thing with some kind of liquid before adding it to the IV -- the one attached to her arm. 

Sophia opens her mouth to protest, tries to push herself back off the bed, but whatever that man had put into the IV takes effect quickly, and Sophia only gets to feel a second of panic before everything goes dark once again. 

When Sophia wakes up again, she's all alone. 

She's in the same room -- the same infirmary with the same items and walls. But that doctor isn't there anymore. She knows that before she even opens her eyes. As soon as she realizes this, the relief rushes over her like a wave. That means there's no one here to drug her again.

Sophia blinks slowly, her eyelids heavy as she takes a look around. Everything appears as it had before. The only thing that changed is the lighting. The room is a little darker than it had been the last time she had woken, but Sophia isn't sure if that was because it's later in the day or not. 

She pushes herself up into a sitting position, pulling the IV out of her arm and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She isn't wearing any shoes, she realizes, wiggling her toes. Someone must have taken them off. A feeling of unease sweeps over her at the idea of a stranger touching her while she was unconscious, but she ignores it. At least they hadn't taken off her clothes. They're the same ones she had been wearing before, thankfully. 

Sophia slips off the mattress, biting her lower lip in concentration. The infirmary floor is cool beneath her bare feet, and her knees buckle beneath her almost as soon as she gets into a standing position, unused to having any weight put on them after so long. Sophia grabs onto the bed to keep herself from falling, but it doesn't stop the confusion from washing over her in a wave. How long had she been unconscious for? 

She doesn't know.

That scares her more than she'd like to admit.

She lets go of the bed after a minute or two, releasing a sigh of relief when she doesn't fall. She stands there for another minute before taking a single shaky step forward. Then another. And another. Sophia glances around the room again, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Her eyes land on what appears to be a scalpel lying on a medical table nearby, and she slowly makes her way over, getting onto her tip-toes and snatching the scalpel up into her hands. 

The blade is still sharp, and she breathes yet another shaky sigh of relief. She isn't totally defenseless now. A scalpel might not help her much against a person, but it's better than just using her hands. There's a small hand mirror on the medical table as well, and before Sophia can convince herself to ignore it, she's picking that up too. She peers at her reflection and is unable to stop her mouth from dropping open in shock.

She looks nothing like she had two years ago. Her face is paler, gaunter. The lack of food had an effect on her, clearly. Her hair is short -- a little below chin-length -- and while she had already known the color had changed from blonde to light brown, she hadn't realized just how different it made her look until now. There's a long scratch going down her nose, though she can't for the life of her remember where she might have gotten that. She sees a couple bruises on her face, too -- all in various stages of healing.

The more that Sophia stares at herself, the more differences she sees: in her face, hair, skin... everything. While she had known that two years surviving the way she had would no doubt have an effect on her appearance, Sophia hadn't realized how much she grew up until now. It's kind of scary, really -- how transformed Sophia looks. She looks almost like an entirely different person. If her mom could see her now, would she even be able to recognize her?

The worst part is that Sophia doesn't know.

"Well, look who finally decided to wake the fuck up!"

Sophia whirls around at the voice, dropping the mirror back onto the medical table. A man is standing behind her, a broad smile on his face, and he steps forward, closing the door Sophia hadn't even heard opening in the first place. Sophia tenses up almost instantly, her knuckles turning white with how tightly she's gripping the scalpel. The stranger clearly takes notice of her unease, and he pauses, but the shit-eating grin on his face doesn't falter. If anything, it only grows wider -- especially when his eyes land on the 'weapon' Sophia has clenched in her hands.

"Well, aren't you just fucking adorable!" He exclaims, a low chuckle escaping him right after. His voice sounds weirdly familiar, but Sophia knows for sure that she has never seen this man before in her life. "You really think that tiny ass scalpel will do anything to me?"

"Who are you?" She demands, ignoring his remark as her eyes narrow.

The man snorts before chuckling incredulously. "Who am I? Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Sophia's eyes narrow even more, and the man sighs, shaking his head as an amused smile plays on his lips. "Well, darling, if you insist on knowing, my name is Negan. And you are?"

She's quiet for a second or two, unsure on whether she should answer. She doesn't know this man -- Negan. She doesn't know who he is or what kind of person he may or may not be. Sophia shouldn't be trusting anyone right now, and she certainly shouldn't be giving this random man her name, but she also has no idea where she even is or how many people might be here -- and that already puts her at a disadvantage. Right now, the best option is to try and seem as meek and obedient as possible. 

Negan is looking at her expectantly, a brow raised as he waits for her to answer. So Sophia sighs, giving him one. 

"Sophia," she says, "my name is Sophia."

Negan's smile only widens. "Well then, Sophia, how about you sit the fuck back down so we can have ourselves a little chat." Sophia tenses up all over again at his words, and he rolls his eyes. "You can keep the scalpel if you want."

Immediately, her grip on the scalpel tightens a little bit more. Sophia does as asked, though, and slowly makes her way back to the bed. She keeps her eyes on Negan every step of the way, not wanting to turn her back on him for even a second. While she knows he can probably overpower her easily whether she was looking at him or not, it just... facing him makes her feel safer, she supposes. Like as long as Sophia looks at him, he can't attack her. 

Sophia hoists herself back up onto the bed, fisting her hands in the white sheets as she sits cross-legged on the mattress. Negan takes a few steps forward, and the mattress dips underneath her as he sits down on the other end of the bed. Sophia unconsciously scoots backward a bit, not liking how close he was to her. If Negan notices this, the man doesn't say anything about it. 

In fact, he doesn't say anything at all. He just sits there and stares at Sophia with an amused smile on his face. Like this entire thing is one big joke for him. It takes her a moment to realize that he's waiting for her to say something. 

Sophia clears her throat, scratching at an itch on her arm. "What happened?" she asks, eyebrows knitting together, "that other guy didn't really tell me much..."

Negan leans back and shakes his head again, another chuckle escaping him. 

"Well, darling, how about I start from the beginning. Here I am, on a supply run with my men, grabbing shit and throwing it in our trucks - you know the drill - and then, out of the blue, we hear a fucking dog barking like someone set its ass on fire." Sophia straightens up at the mention of Kiwi -- because who else could that be -- and Negan's smile widens as he continues talking. "Now, of course, you don't hear a lot of dogs very often, so we thought we'd go check things out. And wouldn't you fucking know, when we get there, we see a giant ass herd of those undead fucks and then little ol' you lying in the dirt."

He shakes his head again, his voice trailing off as he looks her up and down -- like he's searching for some kind of reaction. Sophia keeps her expression blank. 

"Not gonna lie, kid. Thought you were dead at first glance, but there were a shit ton of biters comin' at us, so we started firing away-" Negan makes a vague gesture with his hand while the other scratches at his beard "-and when I came to get a look at you, wouldn't you fucking know, you were still alive and kicking. That dog of yours nearly bit my fucking hand off when I picked you up, but we got you back here just fine. We saved your life, kid. That's what fucking happened." 

That explains why his voice sounds kind of familiar. Sophia glances away for a second, a frown pulling at her lips as she processes his words. He... he seems like he's telling the truth too. Sophia likes to think she has a pretty decent lie-detector, especially after living with her father for nearly all her life. But after spending approximately two years without being around people, her skills are probably more than a little rusty. 

She looks up at Negan. "Why?" she asks. 

Negan raises a playful eyebrow as he stands back up, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders. "How about I show you." He takes a step toward her, extending a hand -- like he expects her to just take it. In fact, that's probably exactly what he wants her to do, 

She stares at the outstretched hand for a few long moments but doesn't make a move to grab it. 

Negan grins. "Come on, kid. I don't bite. I save that for my wives."

Wives?! As in multiple? Sophia wonders if maybe she had misheard him or something. She debates whether or not she should ask, but she ultimately decides not to -- she doesn't want to be seen as some nosy little kid, after all. 

It takes her a moment to realize that Negan is still waiting for her to take his hand. Sophia really shouldn't; she knows this. Violet's warnings bounce around in her mind persistently, like a radio playing a song on repeat. 

She ignores the warnings. Prays that she isn't about to make a horrible mistake before reaching out and grabbing Negan's hand.

His smile widens.

She follows Negan around the building -- the one that houses what seems like hundreds of people. And it's made clear to her the moment that they step out of the infirmary that Negan is the leader here, the one who runs it all, who keeps everything going. He brings Sophia to a railing above what looks like a marketplace, grins at her, and whistles an eerie tune. Almost instantly, the people bustling around below freeze before collectively falling to their knees before him. Kneeling like he's some sort of king, and who knows, maybe that's what he is to them.

"Pretty cool, right?" Negan whispers to her gleefully, resting the bat he had named 'Lucille' on his shoulder. 

Sophia doesn't respond, but she does agree with him. It is pretty cool. She can't help but stare with wide eyes, taking everything in with thinly veiled disbelief -- she hadn't even been aware that places like this existed anymore, not after the world went to hell. She had simply assumed that people would be in smaller groups, never settling in one place and surviving by the skin of their teeth, but she had been wrong; she sees that now. 

Honestly, Sophia doesn't think she's seen this many people in one place since before the world ended. Everywhere she looks, there are people -- Sophia even sees a couple kids in the mix of people kneeling below. And not only that, but there are food and water and weapons; she sees stalls where people had been making clothes, stalls where people had been trading spears and knives... Even in the mournful gray walls of a factory of all things, the place still is a remarkable sight. 

"At ease," Negan calls to the crowd kneeling below, and Sophia watches as the people climb back up to their feet, eyes on Negan. He makes a vague hand motion, and the previous hubbub of chatter and shouting returns to the marketplace in seconds. The man's smile widens, and Sophia jumps when Negan claps a hand on her shoulder. "That shit does not get any less cool," says Negan, chuckling as he begins to lead her away from the marketplace. 

She peers up at him, her eyebrows furrowing, "I don't really see how this answers my question."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "Who said we were done?" 

Without waiting for her response, he pulls his hand off her shoulder and starts walking ahead. Sophia yelps and quickly runs after him, not wanting to be left behind in such an unfamiliar place. Negan doesn't slow his walk even when he notices how much trouble she has keeping up with his much larger striders, and she has a feeling this is somewhat like a game to him -- he reminds her vaguely of how Mr. Walsh used to act in a way, but just much more vulgar. 

"Where are we going?" She asks him.

"You'll see," is Negan's vague response. The grin has yet to leave his face. Sophia wonders how he even has the energy to smile so much -- that looks exhausting. 

Sophia scrunches her face up in annoyance, but she has a feeling that no amount of nagging will get him to tell her where they're going, so she doesn't say anything else. She just quickens her pace and tries not to fall behind as Negan leads her through the seemingly endless gray halls of the giant building. She wonders what this place used to be before, but her thoughts don't linger on it for long because suddenly Negan stops, and Sophia, having fallen behind a tad while they were walking, nearly crashes right into his back.

She manages to stop herself at the last moment, but she doesn't get the chance to question what Negan is doing because a moment later, she notices the door right in front of them, and then Negan is opening it. Almost as soon as the door is pulled open, her vision is flooded with a blinding light. Sophia squints her eyes as Negan starts walking again -- not really having any other option, she follows him, letting the door fall shut behind her and using her hand to cover her face from the glare of the sun. 

Then, she stops in stunned disbelief at the sight that lies before her.

Walkers. Walkers chained to fences, still alive judging by the moaning and groaning she hears coming from them. Then, Sophia realizes that there are people in the same area as the walkers, and she feels sick to her stomach when she sees two of them struggling to get a walker pinned to the fence. All of the people in there are wearing overalls of some kind, and Sophia can just barely make out various letters sprayed onto all of them.

She turns to Negan, eyes wide. "What-"

"Jesus kid, you look like someone just took a big old shit in your cereal." Negan laughs, putting his hand back on Sophia's shoulder, either ignoring or not noticing her flinch, and leading her away. "Don't feel sorry for those sad little shit stains. They're prisoners. There are good reasons why they're out there."

"What kind of reasons?" Sophia asks, swallowing down the bile that threatens to force its way up her throat. She can't see any reason why someone would deserve being thrown out there in the scorching sun while walkers stumble around, trying to take a chunk out of their neck.

Negan snorts as they turn the corner, leaving Sophia unable to look back at the people -- at the prisoners -- trapped in the fences. "Either they're cowards, deserters, or some other shit. And most of said shit probably wouldn't be suitable for someone as young as you to hear, so don't worry your pretty little head about it. We have other things to get to, after all." 

"Other things?" Sophia inquires, not having a good feeling about whatever it may be, "what other things?" 

But before Negan can respond to her question, Sophia hears a loud bark sound from nearby. She whips her head around, eyes widening when she sees the blur of white, gray, black, and ginger fur running towards her -- the sound of a woman shouting after the dog follows, but Sophia doesn't care. She runs forward, a smile spreading across her face, and falls to her knees right as Kiwi crashes into her, panting and whining. 

"Kiwi!" Sophia laughs, scrubbing Kiwi behind the ears and laying a kiss on the top of the dog's head. Kiwi barks again, the wag of her tail speeding up as her body starts to wiggle. She bounces around in Sophia's arms before promptly swiping her tongue across Sophia's face. She laughs again, for once not bothering to wipe away the dog slobber. Instead, she just buries her head in Kiwi's fur and whispers: "Oh god, oh god, you're okay!" 

"I'm assuming you're the owner then," Sophia glances up at the new voice. Her eyes immediately land on a dark-haired woman standing a few feet away, a tired smile on her face as she takes in the reunion happening before her, "that dog of yours is a ball of energy." 

A flush creeps up Sophia's neck, and she ducks her head, her smile turning sheepish. "Y...yes. I am, and yeah, she is." Sophia runs her fingers through Kiwi's thick fur, her heart swelling with relief. "Thank you for taking care of her...?"

The woman huffs out a tired laugh, "My name is Sherry."

"Thank you, Sherry... for taking care of her," Sophia says, distantly recalling the doctor from before mentioning the woman's name. 

"It's fine, really - she's such a sweetheart." Sherry steps forward, crouching down and patting Kiwi on the head. Immediately Kiwi swipes her tongue across the woman's hand, and Sherry laughs, wiping the dog slobber on her pants. Sophia can't help but smile. 

Negan's loud, booming laugh sounds from behind them. "Well, isn't that just fucking adorable!" Sophia glances behind her right as the man starts walking forward. Sherry tenses up, climbing back to her feet as Negan pulls to a stop beside Sophia. Negan smiles at the woman, "Sherry, darling, you can go. Tell your sister I said hi."

The expression on Sherry's face shifts, but Sophia isn't able to tell what it changes to -- either way, Sherry dips her head, her lips thinning, "Yes, Negan." She says, and Sophia watches as the woman walks away, only tearing her gaze from Sherry when she hears Negan coming closer. When she looks up, the man is grinning down at her, and he twirls the bat -- Lucille -- around in his hand.

"Now," he says, "how about I take you for a little tour?" 

Sophia frowns, peering up at him. She hugs Kiwi a little closer, which is a task made difficult by the dog's constant squirming. "What do you mean?" she asks, yelping when Kiwi manages to swipe her tongue across her face. 

"What I mean, Sophia," Negan says, the grin not leaving his face, "is welcome to the Saviors."

Chapter Text

2 Years Later

Cold winds whip at Sophia's face as she rides down the road at great speed, Kiwi running like hell in front of her, barking merrily. Usually, she would be trying to enjoy the feeling of the winds rushing around her as she sped along on her motorcycle, but there are more important things on her mind as she urges herself to go faster and faster. The blood from the Satellite Station is still sticky on her hands, and she knows it's going to take a lot more than a quick wash to get it scrubbed off her skin. Before, this would have made her queasy, but not anymore. She had long since gotten used to blood on her hands.

Four years surviving on her own and then with Negan would do that to a person, she supposes. 

The large, looming figure of the Sanctuary is just visible in the distance. Around five more minutes till she gets there, probably. Sophia lets out a low exhale, pressing her body closer against the rumbling of the motorcycle. It's kind of funny, actually. Four years ago, she had been terrified of motorcycles, and the mere idea of being on one had been enough to make her feel sick. Sure, Daryl had looked cool on his, but Sophia remembers thinking of how loud bikes are and how easy it would be to fall off.

Now she knows better. In fact, she spends a lot of time riding around on her motorbike. Kiwi likes running alongside her too -- it's a good exercise for the dog. And as long as Kiwi doesn't fall behind while she is riding, that's okay with her. Especially now, seeing how much of a rush she is in to get to the Sanctuary, she can't be bothered to stop if something grabs Kiwi's attention. Negan needs to hear about what she just saw, if he hadn't heard about it from the others already. 

The rumble of the motorcycle's engine causes the people manning the fences around the Sanctuary to glance up, and she sees them relaxing in the corner of her eye when they realize that it's her approaching the gates at full speed. She doesn't pay much attention to what they are doing, but they better open the gates by the time she and Kiwi reach them because she really isn't in the mood to stay near the walkers in the fence longer than she has to. 

"Open up!" She hears someone shout, and in a matter of seconds, the gates are being pulled open right as Kiwi reaches them. The dog darts through without hesitation, barking up a storm as she runs around to greet everyone in the vicinity, and Sophia speeds through the gates moments later, dismounting with ease and letting out a sharp whistle to call Kiwi back to her.

The dog runs over, giving a little bark as Sophia rests her bike against a wall, motioning for one of the workers to put it away, which they immediately rush to do. Usually, Sophia would do it herself, seeing as she doesn't really like to take advantage of her higher status, but right now, Sophia needs to get to Negan as soon as possible, and spending time to park the bike would only take more time. Time that she isn't sure that she has. 

She swings open the doors, entering the Sanctuary with a huff. She pulls off her gloves, shoving them into her pockets and running a hand through her shoulder-length hair as her eyes dart around the area, taking everything in. She moves quickly throughout the first story of the Sanctuary, following her muscle-memory to the stairs. She runs up the steps without a second's hesitation, not even bothering to apologize when she practically slams into Laura.

Ignoring the woman's spluttering, Sophia darts past her and up the remaining steps, going to the next flight of stairs, which she climbs just as quickly. One of the things she dislikes about the Sanctuary is just how many fucking stairs there are. It makes going up and down a total workout, and now that she thinks about it, the stairs are probably part of the reason she's able to keep in good shape. Still, if she could change one thing about the Sanctuary, she would give them a little less stairs. 

Sophia storms through one of the many hallways of the Sanctuary, her boots soaked in the blood of fallen walkers and Saviors as Kiwi trots at her heels, rot and crimson blood staining the dog's fur. She's leaving red footprints behind her as she walks, but Sophia really can't care less -- not after what she just saw. 

She passes by the other residents of the Sanctuary as she walks, and many nod to her once they spot her in the hall, whispering quiet greetings as they go on with their work. While Sophia usually returns these greetings, she's much too pissed off by what she just discovered to even think about paying these people any attention. Instead, she runs up yet another flight of stairs, internally fuming as she makes her way to her destination. 

Negan's bedroom is one of the more secluded places in the Sanctuary. It sits on one of the higher floors of the factory with luxuries that the rest of the workers don't have. Not that any of the workers even know where it is; only his top lieutenants and wives get to go up there. And usually, that's only by invitation -- but Sophia has crucial information to give to Negan, and it can't wait.

Sophia arrives at the door to his bedroom a few minutes later, and without bothering to knock, she throws the door open and storms inside. Negan is sitting on the sofa, looking at a map lying on the coffee table, but he looks up when Sophia enters, eyebrows raising when he sees her slam the door. Kiwi trots right up to the man, resting her head on his leg. Negan gives the dog a quick scratch behind the ears. "Well, hello to you too," he says to a still fuming Sophia, looking amused. 

"We got a radio call by the people at the Satellite Station earlier," Sophia says, not even bothering to roll her eyes at his remark, "a group managed to sneak into the place, killed a shit ton of people before someone managed to sound the alarm."

Immediately, the humor seeps out of Negan's face, replaced by a look of pure anger as he climbs to his feet. "Tell me everything," he says, his voice unnaturally quiet. Nodding, Sophia pulls a series of pictures that she had taken while at the station out of her jacket, tossing it over to him. The man catches it with ease, instantly starting to flip through them, his face growing more enraged by the second. 

"I still don't know just what we're looking at," Sophia tells him as he looks through the pictures, putting her hands on her hips, "but from what I was able to gather, the group killed a lot of people in their sleep. Someone sounded the alarm, a few Saviors managed to escape and radioed my group, but they were all dead by the time we got there." 

Sophia thinks back to what she had seen at the Satellite Station. It had been a massacre: dead bodies everywhere, shell casings covering the floor, bullet holes in the walls, blood covering almost every surface... Sophia doesn't think she's seen that much death since the quarry camp had been attacked by walkers -- in the attack that killed her 'father.' And while Sophia hadn't really liked many of the people who lived in that outpost, it still fills her with an ungodly amount of rage. 

Negan sets the photos down on the couch, reaching out a hand to scratch his beard. "And you found no survivors?" He asks after a beat of silence, his voice gruff and for once void of any amusement.

"Kiwi would have sniffed them out if there were," Sophia says, patting Kiwi on the head when the dog pads back over to her, "we tried tracking down the Saviors who escaped, but as I already said, by the time we found them, they were dead too."

There's a beat of silence. Then, Negan sighs, "and the group who attacked them?"

"They were all gone by the time we got there, but I believe they might be the same ones who blew up the bikes," Sophia responds, tilting her head, "but I also have no concrete evidence for that." 

"Son of a bitch..." Negan growls, beginning to pace, "what else do you know?" 

Sophia leans back, staying quiet for a couple of moments before finally speaking. "These people... whoever they might be... they have a shit ton of firepower, and they stole pretty much all of the guns we kept there, which gives them even more." She looks to Negan, and she has a feeling that he already has an idea of where she is going with her words. "Whoever did this... I have a feeling it was more than just a couple people."

Negan stares at her for a long moment. "You think there might be another community."

It isn't a question. 

Still, Sophia finds herself nodding. "That would make the most sense," she says quietly, recalling the destruction at the Satellite Station. There was no way just a few people were able to do that, "and I don't mean one like Hilltop. This place clearly has a shit ton of weapons at their disposal, not to mention some good fighters if they actually managed to wipe out everyone there."

"I see..." Negan peers down at the photos lying on the couch, then at the map still on the table. An odd expression crosses his face, and Sophia narrows her eyes, stamping back the feeling of unease that rises up in her stomach. 

"I don't like that look on your face, Negan." She says, crossing her arms. Usually, none of the Saviors would ever dare say something like this to Negan of all people, but after spending two whole years in the Sanctuary, she knows Negan better than most people do. And despite Negan's attempts at intimidating her whenever she got stubborn, Sophia had grown up with her father -- who would scream and punch and yell whenever he got angry, so Negan barely scares her. It was part of why he took a liking to her, that and he had a soft spot for kids.

Negan gives her a vaguely amused look. "This is my thinking face."

"Exactly," Sophia says, raising a brow, "what are you thinking?"

A slow grin spreads across Negan's face, and he pauses, swooping down to pick Lucille up from where he left the bat on the couch. He swings the bat around for a moment or two before finally turning back to Sophia. "I think we need to have a little chat with these people... don't you agree?" Sophia's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Because she has no fucking idea what Negan is saying. 

The man seems to pick up on this, and his smile widens. He turns his back to Sophia, striding over toward the window, peering out at his kingdom as he rests Lucille on his shoulder. "They have no fucking idea who they're dealing with," he says, his voice disturbingly calm, "If these people actually think they can get away with something like this, then they're dead wrong."

"Are you going to kill them, then?" Sophia asks, her hands already twitching toward the gun holstered on her belt. There is no way they can let the people who did this get away with it. She may not have liked the people who lived in that outpost -- a lot of them were condescending pieces of shits who look down on her for being a kid -- but they were still Saviors, they were still Negan's people, and there should be hell to pay for what happened to them. 

And killing so many people in their sleep -- slitting their throats before they even get the chance to fight back? That's a cowardly move. Sure, it's a smart move too, but mainly a cowardly one. The idea of someone -- or multiple someones -- sneaking into the Sanctuary and just killing everyone there is enough to send shivers shooting down her spine. While she knows that there are hundreds of people here, and the likelihood of someone getting away with that is pretty low, the mere idea of it is terrifying. 

Negan, totally oblivious to the thoughts swirling around in her mind, turns away from the window to look at her; "Not all of them," he says after a couple seconds, "one, maybe two. Just enough to get my point across."

Sophia's eyes widened, and she feels a wave of anger sweep over her. "They killed a whole outpost, they stole our shit, and you want to just let them live?" 

If it had been anyone else saying this, they would already be dead. Rarely did someone question Negan's judgment and get away with it. But Sophia, for some odd reason, is an exception to this. She never questioned it, though -- because as long as she didn't get killed for calling Negan out on his bullshit, she couldn't care less about his reasons. Plus, someone had to do it. 

Because was he actually being serious? Was he really considering letting the people who killed an entire fucking outpost live? Part of Sophia is hoping that he's just joking, but judging by the look on his face, she has a feeling that he is being serious. Sophia is really starting to question Negan's sanity at this point. Then again, she doubts that the man has ever been entirely sane. The fact that he named a bat after his dead wife kind of proves that. 

"Woah there, darling. Hold your horses," the smirk on Negan's face doesn't change as he towers above her, "Think about it for a moment, if these people managed to have this many weapons, imagine what other shit they might have. Plus, we're called the Saviors for a reason, Sophia." He reaches out a hand, flicking her on the forehead and ignoring her scowl. "We save people. We don't kill any more than we need to."

Sophia crosses his arms, not bothering to hide her glare. "And you expect them to just lie down and take it?"

Negan snorts. "That's just what they're going to fucking do, whether they like it or not." He pushes past her, swinging Lucille around the room. "I'm not going to just sit on my ass while these fuckers go around killing more of my men. They need to be controlled. That's what we need to do, but that doesn't mean we kill them all. People are a resource, in case you've forgotten." He sends her a pointed look from over his shoulder. 

Sophia huffs, glancing down to where Kiwi is now rolling around on the floor. She looks back up at Negan, taking in a deep breath and trying to stamp down the anger that is still threatening to burst right out of her. She then runs a hand through her shoulder-length hair, pursing her lips as she resists the urge to storm right out of the room. 

"If you had seen the damage..." she pauses, shaking her head, "if you had seen what those people did to our people, then you would be thinking very differently." Sophia already knows that she isn't getting the images of the Savior's corpses out of her mind anytime soon. There had been so much blood... So much death... Some of the dead Saviors hadn't even been put down. They had just been wandering around the place as walkers -- Sophia and her group had to put those ones down themselves. 

She tries not to think of how enraged she would be if Sherry or Dwight had been at that outpost on the day it was attacked. Sophia had grown quite close to the couple -- well, the former couple -- over the last two years, and it's safe to say that they were definitely friends. Sophia is still bitter at Negan for what he did to Dwight -- she can still hear Dwight's screams of pain as Negan pressed the iron into his face. 

Suddenly she feels the familiar weight of Lucille resting on her shoulder -- the barbs dig into the fabric of her jacket, making her freeze in place. "Kid, look at me," Sophia grits her teeth but does as asked. Negan's face is frighteningly blank as he stares down at her, "These people aren't gonna get away with this shit, I promise you that. Or have you forgotten who we are?

Sophia shakes her head. "I haven't."

"Oh really?" Negan lifts Lucille from her shoulder, and the smirk on his face returns, "I think you might need a little refresher. So Sophia, who are you?" 

Sophia bites the inside of her mouth, trying to prevent herself from blurting out the snarky remark that is practically begging to be released. She has a feeling that Negan isn't going to appreciate something like that. 

She remains quiet for a couple of seconds, searching Negan's face for any kind of ulterior motives. She can't see any, but Sophia also knows that Negan is pretty much an impossible person to read. And Sophia also knows what is expected of her. After spending close to two years in the Sanctuary with the Saviors, she knows just what he wants her to say, knows what her answer is supposed to be. Sophia had seen him do this exact same thing to many others, and she had seen what happened when they gave him the wrong answer. So, as the seconds go by in silence, and as Negan's stare grows more impatient, Sophia straightens her back and looks him right in the eye. 

"Negan," she says finally, "I'm Negan."