It had been a strange, hellish few days for Erica Grimes. She’d woken alone in a hospital full of corpses and silence, wandered through empty streets, and seen things she could barely process—dead men walking, eating the living. She'd found a horse, lost it. Found a tank, barely survived. Then, against all odds, she'd found people. A small group in Atlanta. Survivors.

Now, they had left the burning city behind, dirt on their faces and smoke in their lungs. The forest ahead promised little, but it was something. Erica was still catching her breath when she saw a boy running fast, stumbling, eyes wide.

"Carl?" she barely got out.

He hit her like a wave, arms wrapping around her waist. She dropped to her knees, clutching him so tightly it hurt.

She spotted her husband behind their son, in shock at her suddenly appearing here. Her best friend and fellow sheriff's deputy Shannon also there in shock.

"I thought—" she started, voice cracking. Then softer, as she pressed her face into his hair, "I thought I lost you."