The girl came out of the trees so fast Aaron barely had time to react. A knife flashed toward him. Instinct took over.

He caught her wrist, twisted just enough for the blade to clatter harmlessly into the leaves, then gently but firmly pinned her arms before she could lunge again.

She fought like a cornered animal. Kicking. Biting. Trying to headbutt him. "Easy!" Aaron grunted. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

She hissed at him instead. Only then did he notice the walker skin draped over her shoulders. The mask. A Whisperer. His heart sank. "...You're just a kid."

Her glare sharpened. "I'm not."

"You are."

She was frighteningly smallbeneath the filthy clothes, bruises peeking from beneath the edges of the skin mask. Her hands were covered in old scars that looked less like accidents and more like lessons someone had forced her to learn.

Aaron slowly loosened his grip. She immediately reached for the knife again. He kicked it out of reach. "You'll have to do better than that."

"I'll kill you."

He believed she meant it. Not because she hated him. Because she'd probably been taught she had to.

Aaron had met enough survivors to recognize the difference. He took a careful step back, giving her room. "If I wanted to hurt you," he said calmly, "I would've done it already. You've got every chance to run."

She stayed exactly where she was. Suspicious. Confused. Waiting for the catch.

"There isn't one," Aaron said, almost reading her thoughts.

"No one helps for free."

"I do."

She laughed, a harsh, disbelieving sound. "Why?"

Because no child should know how to bury a knife in someone's ribs before they knew what safety felt like. Because somewhere along the line, every adult in her life had failed her. Aaron sighed softly. "What's your name?"

Silence.

"I've got one. It's Aaron."

She stared.

"My husband would tell you I'm making another reckless decision."

"You have a husband?"

"I do."

She looked genuinely surprised.

"We live in a place called Alexandria."

Her expression immediately hardened. "A trap."

"No."

"A prison."

"No."

"A lie."

Aaron smiled sadly. "I know why you'd think that." He glanced toward the discarded knife before looking back at her. "We have walls. We have gardens. Kids your age who complain about homework."

A flicker. So brief he almost missed it. "You'd get your own room. You wouldn't have to wear..." His eyes settled on the walker mask. "...that anymore. You wouldn't have to fight every day just to survive."