Each person had their jobs around here, Presley had come to find out. Hers? Stay in bed. Of course, she didn't ever do that job for more than a few hours.

Michonne still hadn't returned from her quest to find the Jeep. Though, nobody seemed all that worried about it. They all knew she wasn't prepared to leave this earth just yet. Her stubborn will was the only thing keeping her alive, while often stubbornness was peoples' downfall. Presley knew that from experience, unfortunately.

Since nobody would give her jobs to do, the girl wandered aimlessly. Her movements were slow and careful, for she felt pain everytime she took a breath. Still, she wouldn't sit still. People has begun to believe that even if they broke both her legs, she would still find a way to stay out of bed. Even if it meant dragging herself on the ground.

She was admired for this stubborn will.

"Hey." A voice greeted suddenly, disrupting the silence. She was sitting in the center of the empty field, overlooking the walkers that wandered on the other side of the fence. She didn't feel safe. Rather, she felt contained, like some sort of animal.

The girl looked up to see Carl. He was a cute young boy, shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. There was a certain look that told her he had been through a lot through his short life. The smile she offered was thin. "Hello."

"Where did you come from... You know, before the dead walked." He asked. The question was harmless, but she couldn't help but wonder if somebody had set her up for an interrogation. She patted the grass beside her, urging him to sit.

"Washington. The rainy state way up in the corner of America." She said, laying down back to relieve the pressure from her chest. She stared blankly at the puffy white clouds that drifted across the sky, free as the birds that flew below them.

"We've lived in Georgia my whole life." Carl said, quietly.

"Be happy you weren't in Florida. That was where the first outbreak started. In just a few hours, the entire state was cornered... Trapped." She sighed and shook her head. "The government tried to confine them, but the infection broke out anyways."

They sat there in silence, enjoying each others company. She liked this boy. While talkative, he didn't give her a headache. He actually seemed a bit intelligent. "My mom said to stay away from you."

She snorted at the randomness of the statement. "That's nice, Carl. Real nice."

"But I don't care. You seem nice, and my dad likes you." Presley turned her head towards him.

"You probably should have listened to her, kid." She said, directing her line of sight back on the clouds. "S'alright, I'll be gone and out of your skin soon enough."

"Dad doesn't want you to go." He said. She huffed.

"Trust me, kid, If he knew what I could do, he wouldn't be as eager to keep me around."

"He thinks we need another person like Daryl." He said, ignoring what Presley had told him. "He said we need a survivor, a hunter. Somebody with nothing left to live for."

For some odd reason, the words affected her. She couldn't find anything else to say. Was that her? Did she really have nothing else to live for? The thought stumped her. All this time she had been fighting and killing, surviving. She hadn't even guessed why.

The only reason why she was surviving this long was because she didn't know any other way. As a result, she never replied to Carl. She simply sat there; blank eyes staring at the sky. She was driven to live with no motive at all.

Some people had to focus on surviving, but she didn't know any other way.

- - -

He watched her from afar. There was something odd about her, the way she kept eyeing the fences as if they were enemies baring knives. She sat in the center of the field, having finally given up on trying to persuade them to give her something to do. Maybe she was like him- feeling like a caged animal inside these prison walls. He craved freedom, that was why he always went hunting, and that was why he hunted.

Or perhaps it was all simply a coincidence.

Rick had mentioned that they best keep an eye on her, just in case she wasn't really as great as she seemed. So far, she hadnt shown any violence. Of course that didn't mean anything, other than that she was smart enough not to take on an entire group with no weapons.

Daryl sharpened the rest or his knives in silence, occasionally glancing over at the raven-haired girl. He could see her smirk occasionally towards Carl, but never a really genuine smile. Then again, there wash much to smile about anymore. He couldn't help but wonder what a real smile would look like from those lips of hers.

"How is she?" Rick asked, approaching the window. Mildly startled, Daryl jumped and turned, glaring at the man sourly.

"She's fine." Daryl grumbled, refocusing on the task at hand. Rick rolled his eyes. "Fine... She's moving around just fine and hasn't attacked anybody. She's been sitting there for like an hour."

Rick frowned at Daryl's tone of voice, but said nothing. He knew it was useless to point it out- Daryl would only lash out angerly. They both sat in silence, Daryl sharpening his knives and Rick peering over at the girl.

"What do you think of her?"

Daryl looked up, his eyes narrowed. He glanced out the window. "She's survived for a reason, not just by luck. Somethin' tells me her luck ran out a long time ago." He said, placing the knife onto the desk. He wanted to add that he didn't want to watch her leave, just he just couldn't bring himself to say it. That would be admitting defeat, which was something Daryl wasn't very good at.

"I want her to stay. We need somebody like her... Somebody who knows how to..." He paused for a long time. "Survive."

In Rick's eyes, now that they had the Prison, they needed to refocus their attention. Most the people were uneasy and didn't like the idea of getting too comfortable. Rick, however, was desperate to make the prison a suitable home.

Daryl simply nodded, leaning back in his chair. "She just might help ye do that... Or she might just prevent it."

- - -

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