I couldn't stop. I pushed any urge I had to catch my breath away from my mind; I ignored the soreness of my legs and my unstable breathing. My heart pounded against my chest, giving me the feeling that I was about to pass out soon. I kept nervously looking over my shoulder to see if anyone was following me. I knew they were out here searching for me already. My stomach twisted at the thought. 

The low rumble of an engine sounded from over the hill far behind me. I almost jumped out of my skin, making a beeline for the trees so I could get off the road. I weaved in-between them as nimbly as I could, going deeper into the woods. 

I wheezed, pressing myself up against a tree to try and catch my breath for a few seconds. One of Woodbury's army trucks slowly rolled by. Someone sat in the back with a gun, staring out into the trees like he was hunting. Once the truck passed, I relaxed. A biter growled in my ear, its teeth snapping together in the air. I immediately took off again, my legs aching as I burst through the last thick of trees and into a clearing. I stopped and gawked at the dilapitated prison that sat in front of me. Did anyone live here? Was it cleared? Could this be my hiding spot? The growls grew louder. Fuck, I thought I'd lost it. I sprinted up to the gates, looping my fingers in the chainlink holes and shaking it.

"Help," I screamed, my voice hoarse. "Help!" I shook the fence again, harder than before. I could see a figure emerging from behind a watchtower. My adrenaline went into to overdrive. "Help me, please," I cried out to it before frantically gazing back behind me; a few more biters had joined the one I escaped from. They were almost halfway to my location. "Please hurry!" I pleaded, the entrance sliding open. I ran through it as soon as I could, collapsing once I crossed the threshold. A dull throb began in my ankle as I sat on the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain. The biters' dead hands rustled the fence, snarling at me and whoever let me in.

"Are you bit?" the person who came to my rescue asked me, looking me over.

"No," I breathed heavily. "No, I'm alright." They extended their hand to me. I grabbed it and was pulled to my feet. I finally got a chance to get a good look at who this person was. My eyes widened in shock.

"Oh shit," I muttered. 

"How'd you find us?" the boy from the convenience store wondered, eyeing me nervously and slightly taking a step back like I was gonna hurt him.

"I— I was running through the woods and I came into this clearing." I shifted my weight over to my right side, taking it off of my aching ankle. "I actually really need a place to stay," I explained. "Please. I won't talk to you or use any of your things if that's how you want it, I just really need a roof over my head right now."

"What happened to your other place," he questioned with concern.

"I, uh, it, it's hard to explain. I just can't be there anymore," I huffed. He looked confused, but after a moment of thought he nodded.

"Follow me," he said, leading me up the trail. I stumbled after a few steps, coming down hard on my injured ankle.

"Fuck," I cursed, hissing in pain. The boy turned around, a concerned look on his face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just my ankle..."

"You need help walking?" 

"No, it's fine." I took another step and fell to the ground, my ankle giving out. 

"Cover your ears," the boy interrupted me, drawing his gun from his pocket and pointing it up to the sky.

"No, it's not—" He shot his gun despite my protests. My ears started to ring. I scrunched up my face in pain, my eyes shut. I opened them back up after I could faintly hear footsteps hurrying down the trail.

"What's going on?" someone frantically asked. I stood there awkwardly as my eyes scanned over the few people that'd come to my aid... not by choice.

"She needs some help getting inside," the boy explained, nodding towards me. "She hurt her ankle pretty bad, was being chased by walkers. I can't help her by myself." The man from the convenience store glared at me coldly. I could feel my hands start to sweat once I saw him. He was fucking pissed.

"Your group send you?" he challenged me right off the bat, remembering the conversation from our past run-in.

"No. I promise I'm out here by myself like I was before."

"You walk here?" he seemed to mock me, the gravel crunching under his feet.

"Yes, sir, I did," I muttered. "I ran, actually..." He turned around, ready to abandon me.

"She's clean, Dad," the boy blurted impatiently. "We have to help her out."

"We don't know her," his father snapped. "For all we know she could be following us around, scouting us out for an attack."

"If she wanted to hurt us she would've done something already. She doesn't even have any weapons on her. We can't just leave her to die out there," he pleaded. "She can't run, let alone walk! Mom wouldn't have wanted you to leave her behind. She would've helped her with her ankle like she helped Hershel." His father froze, his body tense. The boy must've struck a nerve. 

"How many walkers have you killed," his father asked after a tense uncomfortable while, his back facing me.

"I— I don't know..." I was caught off-guard by the sudden question. I knew the number was embarrassingly low. "2?"

"How many people have you killed?"

"None," I quickly answered. He turned around to look at me, squinting.

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't think I'd be able to," I admitted honestly. He observed me for some time before finally nodding. Someone who was standing farther back from the scene approached me, wrapping their arm tightly around my waist and carefully lifting me up off the ground so I could hop on my right foot. They assisted me through the doors of the prison and into the general population area. People stared at me in complete silence. I timidly stared back at them; I had no idea who any of them were, but I've seen people like them back at Woodbury. I was led to a cell and carefully lowered down onto the bed inside. The person backed away from me after making sure I was placed comfortably. Their eyes finally met mine. We both froze. He didn't hesitate to glare at me.

"What're you doin' here?" he asked bitterly. I struggled to find the right words to say. I was surprised beyond belief. I found him again. I found Daryl. 

"I—I needed a place to stay," I said nervously. "Honest. Nothing more."

"Ye're a spy, aren't you," he spat, staring straight into my soul. "Ye're gonna be gone as soon as yer ankle heals. I can promise ya that." With that, he spun on his heel to leave. My heart began to race with anxiety as I found the words creeping up my throat.

"Merle says hi," I blurted out. He stopped cold in his tracks.