you were alone at only 13. You had been wandering, surviving off scraps and squirrels. while hunting, you'd heard distant shots. Bullets zipped through trees, not aimed for you. still, a bullet lodged itself into the flesh between your shoulder and collarbone, not going right through, not hitting a bone, but still bleeding out.

you found yourself running as fast as you could. You had managed to apply a tourniquet over the area. Regardless, the sound of gunshots had drawn walkers to the area and you were at a disadvantage.

foliage and twigs crunched underfoot as you ran; the sound of Walkers groaning drowned out your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

you're not sure how you got there, but you found a prison. There weren't as many walkers there as you'd thought. you managed to find a hole in the fence by an old broken wall. Your memory cut out, but you found yourself in an old boiler room, your vision blurring and the sound of walkers clawing at the metal door was all you could hear as you slumped against a corner of the concrete floor, blood staining through your shirt and draining.

you heard the faint sound of silenced gunshots, and the clawing stopped. You figured you were just hallucinating from bloodloss, even when a boy in a sheriff's hat, about 13, holding a pistol, opened the door and peered in.

your eyes blurred and blacked out, the bloodloss, pain, and exertion catching up to you.

Carl had seen the group of Walkers and got curious. He had been on his own since nobody watched him.

Carl's eyes widened at the sight of a girl, alone, bleeding out. what the hell happened? usually Carl wasn't supposed to trust strangers, but he couldn't leave you like that. Not here, not to die.

you woke up in a different room, stirring on an actual bunk, somewhere in an open cell. There was an old man with a kind look about him and an amputated leg, bandaging your wound, yet the first thing you noticed was the boy with shaggy brown hair in the corner, watching as you stirred. His hand rested on the gun in its holster.