Rick is driving down a quiet, wooded road on a supply run, when something catches his eye—a faint trail of blood leading off the road and into the woods.

He slows the car, scanning his surroundings carefully. After a moment, he steps out, gun in hand. He goes into the woods, finding a kid, a Saviors' kid to be precise, collapsed on the forest floor.

Their clothes are soaked with blood, clutching their stomach and trying and failing to crawl away. Rick approaches them cautiously, gun raised.

“Don’t move,” he commands, his voice sharp and unwavering. They freeze, turning their head slightly to glance at Rick. “You’re one of the Saviors' kids, aren't you?” He asks coldly, his grip tightening on the gun. “How many more of you are out here?”

"..."

After getting no respone, Rick talks again. “Here’s the deal: you tell me what I need to know, and I’ll get you patched up. Or keep quiet, and I’ll leave you here to bleed out.”