By the time the sun starts to set, we've got more than enough supplies to last us the trip to Fort Benning, but Rick and Daryl still haven't returned. We've got jugs of water from an abandoned water truck, various non-perishables, and plenty of bottles of water and other drinks, as well as suitcases full of clean clothes.

T-Dog's helping us, feeling strong enough to help and guilty enough to refuse to rest any longer. He carries anything he can handle with one hand, as I've warned him against using his hurt arm. If it's clotted at all, I don't want him to reopen the wound.

Rustling comes from the woods and a moment later, Glenn calls out.

"Oh, god," Glenn says. "They're back!"

We clamber together as Rick and Daryl come back to the highway, alone. I have the sudden urge to run to Daryl, to welcome him back, but I hold my ground. At my side, Carol backs up, her breathing becoming shaky again.

Her voice breaks as she says what we're all realizing. "You didn't find her?"

"We'll pick it up again at first light," Rick promises.

"You can't leave my daughter out there to spend the night alone in the woods," Carol says, almost pleading.

"Out in the dark's no good," Daryl says. "We'd just be tripping over ourselves. More people get lost."

"But she's twelve. She can't be out there on her own," Carol repeats, tears in her eyes as she looks between the two men, desperate. "You didn't find anything?"

"I know this is hard," Rick says, keeping his voice low and calm, "but I'm asking you not to panic. We know she was out there."

"And we tracked her for a while," Daryl adds.

"We have to make this an organized effort," Rick says. "Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I've asked him to oversee this."

Carol doesn't seem to be listening. She stares at Daryl's pants, her breath hitching as she points a shaky finger. "Is...is that blood?"

"We took down a walker," Rick explains.

"Walker? Oh my God," she gasps as she starts to pace, unable to stay still.

"There was no sign it was ever anywhere near Sophia," Rick insists.

"How can you know that?" Andrea asks as Lori wraps an arm around Carol's shoulders.

Rick hesitates, then looks at Daryl.

"We cut the son of a bitch open. Made sure," Daryl says.

Carol pulls away from Lori and sits down on the metal dividers blocking off the highway from the ditch. As she tries to catch her breath, shaking, Lori takes a seat next to her.

Carol looks up at Rick. "How could you just leave her out there to begin with? How could you just leave her?"

"Those two walkers were on us," Rick says. His voice is starting to shake too, emotion bleeding in. "I...I had to draw them off. It was her best chance."

"Sounds like he didn't have a choice, Carol," Shane says.

"How was she supposed to find her way back on her own?" Carol demands, tears starting to slip down her face. "She's just a child. She's just a child..."

"It was my only option," Rick says as he gets on his knees, looking up at her. "The only choice I could make."

"I'm sure nobody doubts that," Shane says.

Rick bows his head, defeated, and Carol looks around at all of us before she settles back on Rick. Her lip trembles.

"My little girl got left in the woods," she croaks out, her voice so strained with the effort of keeping herself together that it's barely there.

No one says anything. There's nothing we can say and, when I search everyone's faces, I get the sense that they feel the same as me: helpless, powerless. Rick stands and walks away, shoulders slumped, and Andrea moves to Carol's other side as she and Lori try their best to comfort her. She breaks down, crying softly into her lap.

The rest of us break away bit by bit, person by person, and I wander a little ways away and stare up at the sky. The dying rays of the sun paint the canvas of the sky with pinks and oranges and bits of blue. It's the kind of sunset I would take pictures of when I was younger. This is the kind of sunset I liked to lay under, waiting for the stars to come out.

An idea comes to mind.

Someone brushes my shoulder and I look beside me to see Daryl, also staring up at the sky, close enough that our arms touch. I can't tell if I'm just lonely or if it's just because it's him, but I feel good whenever I see him, and even happier when he chooses to come closer.

I look back at the sky. "I'm glad you're okay," I whisper.

He sighs. "Hope, you..."

I love the way my name sounds on his tongue. I smile a little. "Hm? Something wrong?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. You're just...on my mind a lot."

My heart skips a beat, then starts running, like it's trying to throw itself into his arms. He doesn't say anything else.

"We should get some sleep," he says. "Long day tomorrow."

"Mm," I agree. He starts to walk away, but I don't follow. "Um, actually, I'm gonna...stay out here for a bit. Stargaze."

He arches an eyebrow, then shrugs. "Sure. Have fun."

I'm a little disappointed he didn't ask to join me but, hey, I didn't invite him. I should have, but he's already walking away and I'm sure he's tired from everything. I won't bother him.

I find an abandoned truck close to the RV. We've cleared out the bed and it's empty now, perfect for my plan. I set about grabbing every blanket, pillow, and sleeping bag I can find. Nobody questions what I'm doing, most settling in for the night. I'm sure the RV is going to be packed.

Whenever I find bedding, I bring it back to the truck bed and toss it in. When I'm satisfied with my haul, I lay everything out, creating the softest cushion I can manage, and when all is said and done, I pull my boots off, tuck them aside, and lay down on my back in my self-made nest.

The sky gets darker by the minute and the stars come out, one by one, and I find out that there's one good thing about the end of the world—no light pollution, which means more stars than you can imagine. I search for constellations I know but end up just staring at it all in awe.

I don't intend to dose off but, the next thing I know, I'm jolting awake to the feeling of something jostling the truck. I snatch my knife, ready to attack, until I realize that it's only Daryl. He leans over the side of the truck, watching me, face illuminated by the moonlight.

"Ain't you cold?" he asks.

A little, I think, now that I'm awake to notice it. The night's gotten a lot cooler with the sun gone. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. "Sorry, I didn't think I'd fall asleep." I eye him. "Everything okay?"

He glances back at the RV. "The floor ain't too comfy, and there's only so much crying I can take before..."

My heart breaks for Carol all over again. "Oh..."

He nods, then eyes my little nest again. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. Gotta take your shoes off though."

He rolls his eyes, muttering, "Damn Canadians," under his breath, but he takes his boots off and tosses them over the side before following them in. We sit next to each other and I watch him as he pats the blankets, testing it.

"How'd you come up with this?" he asks.

I shrug. "Just something I saw on someone's bucket list once. Figured it'd be fun to try."

"More things you wanted to do, huh?"

I nod, bringing my knees to my chest. "Yeah...I guess."

He shifts, gripping the top blanket (my sleeping bag, unzipped and laid out) and pulling it over our laps. "Here. Can't have our doc getting sick too," he mumbles.

I smile a tiny bit, but shake my head. "I wouldn't have been half as effective today without you...and Merle," I admit. "I didn't even see that herd. Without you..."

"I did what I had to," he says. He lays back, shifting again as he hooks his hands behind his head. "It's fine."

"Thank you, anyway."

He turns his head to the side as he stares up at me. "You say that a lot, you know? You thank me for shit I don't think twice about."

"It's kind of you. You deserve to be thanked."

"Can't say I've ever heard that before."

He tilts his head back, staring at the sky, and I lie down next to him after a moment. I stay on my side so that I can keep looking at him and again, his head falls towards me. His brow furrows.

"What are you playing at, anyway?"

"Playing at? What makes you say that?"

"Everything," he says. He shifts onto his side and now we're facing each other, only a few inches apart. "You...you just showed up out of the blue. You're confusing. I don't get you."

"Am I someone that needs to get...got?" I ask, wincing a little at the wording.

"No, but I'm still trying to figure you out."

I smile a little. "Let me know when you do."

We lie there and stare at one another, listening to the crickets chirp. He reaches towards me, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, and I hold my breath. His fingertips brush lightly against my cheek, like the touch of a butterfly wing.

I want to push myself closer, to touch him, lose myself in his eyes, but I stay still and instead close my eyes as I feel my curls twist around his fingers. When his hand leaves, I open my eyes to find that he's staring up at the sky again. I roll onto my back and watch too.

"It's a nice night," he says. "Almost wish they'd all be like this."

"Me too."

I watch the sky and wait for a shooting star. Then, he could make his wish. I don't know what I'd ask for; for my parents to be alive and surviving just like me, for us to find Sophia, for safety and health. There's too much to ask and not enough magic in a star.

I have my right hand resting on my stomach, but my left lays between the two of us. I reach blindly to the side and brush his knuckles, stomach full of butterflies, and I pray he doesn't pull away. I feel him tense, just for a second, before our fingertips brush again. Our pinkies cross, then ring fingers, and I sigh as my eyes flutter shut.

I drift off slowly. Before I fall, I feel him shift again, his hand overlapping mine for a second, and I hear his voice. It's soft, like he's telling a secret, and I wonder if he even means for me to hear it.

"The hell are you doin' to me, Hope?" he murmurs.

I could ask him the same.

----------

In the morning, when we've all gathered, Rick rolls out the pack of blades that Carl found yesterday on the hood of Carol's Cherokee.

"Everybody takes a weapon," Rick says.

"These aren't the kind of weapons we need," Andrea retorts. "What about the guns?"

"We've been over that," Shane says. "Daryl, Rick, and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles."

"Fine by me," I say, moving to the arsenal.

Glenn has the same idea and the two of us pick over the options. I reach for one with a comfortable-looking handle and slip it from the pack, revealing a machete. The blade is thick and decently heavy, and I wonder whether I should take something smaller.

"It's not the trees I'm worried about," Andrea mutters.

"Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by," Shane says. "See, then it's game over for all of us. So you need to get over it."

I slip the machete into my belt, testing the hold, and figure that it'll do for now. Andrea rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, and I give her a brief look. I know this is my own bias, but I don't see why she's so upset over a lack of guns. Sure, the "protection" argument for owning guns has never been so strong as it is now, but I can't shake my dislike of them. I'm happy with melee.

"The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around, and come back down the other side," Daryl says. "Chances are she'll be by the creek. It's her only landmark."

"Stay quiet and stay sharp," Rick says. "Keep space between you but always stay within sight of each other."

"Everybody assemble your packs," Shane adds, holding up a water bottle.

We split up to gather the rest of our things. I take my backpack, trusty as ever, and add a few water bottles to it. Rick steps aside to talk to Dale in lowered tones. Dale's staying with the RV to continue repairs and watch over T-Dog. His arm doesn't seem to be getting infected, but that severed artery is still a problem. He's still weak, dizzy, and his lips and around his eyes seem pale to me. He's in no condition to be up and moving around. I still haven't been able to find anything I could use to attempt stitching, so I've left the task in Dale's hands if he gets the chance.

With bags packed and everyone suited up, we head out with Daryl in the lead. Rick stays right behind him and Shane brings up the rear. I end up just behind Andrea, ahead of Glenn. Grass and sticks crunch beneath our shoes, birds chirping and bugs buzzing in the trees.

Daryl holds up his hand as we start to slow, pointing through a small clearing, and I can see a grey and green tent through the trees.

Daryl, Rick, and Shane move forward and we're left to watch. Daryl sets his crossbow down and takes out his knife, holding it at the ready as he crouches, creeping towards the tent. He checks the door, then a window, then looks back at Rick and shrugs.

"Carol," Rick whispers, gesturing her to him, and she does so. We trickle after. "Call out softly. If she's in there, yours is the first voice she should hear."

Carol nods, then looks at the tent. "Sophia? Sweetie?" she calls. Already, her voice is strained, broken. "Are you in there? Sophia, it's mommy. Sophia? We're all here, baby. It's mommy."

She leans towards the tent, but there's no response. Daryl starts slowly unzipping the tent as Rick and Shane move forward, guns at the ready. When he finally gets the flap open, he coughs and the men turn their heads away, faces twisted with disgust.

Daryl goes inside. Rick and Shane cough, bracing their arms over their noses, and my first thought is that there's something dead in there. I pray it isn't Sophia.

"Daryl?" Carol calls. When there's no answer, she tries again. "Daryl?"

He steps out. "It ain't her."

Carol exhales and she and Lori share a look, holding each other's hands.

"What's in there?" Andrea asks.

"Some guy. Opted out," he answers, grabbing his crossbow from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. "Ain't that what Jenner called it?"

Distantly, I hear the sound of church bells ringing. My eyes widen as I look around, trying to pinpoint the noise. Rick stops, pointing into the woods, and we all take off running after it. Someone has to be ringing those bells, right?

"What direction?" Shane asks as we find a small break in the trees.

Again, Rick looks around himself before pointing. "I think that way. I'm pretty sure."

"Damn, it's hard to tell out here," Shane says.

"If we heard them, maybe Sophia did too," Carol says.

"Someone's ringing those bells. Maybe calling others," Glenn adds.

"Or signalling that they found her," Andrea suggests.

"She could be ringing them herself," Rick says. "Come on."

We keep running.

----------

The bells fall silent after a few more seconds, but we keep moving in the same direction. Ahead, there's something white through the trees, and we burst through the treeline onto a wide-open plot of land. Headstones dot the land, a little white church keeping watch over it.

"That can't be it," Shane says. "Got no steeple, no bells. Rick!"

Rick's already sprinting across the lawn and, with a sigh, Shane and the rest of us follow. I slow down when we pass the sign out front, my heart squeezing. "Southern Baptist Church of Holy Light," the sign reads. Established in 1836. The sign reads Revelation 16:17 and there's an additional, smaller sign hanging off the side that reads "Welcome, Bikers!" in bright red bold letters.

For a second, I imagine that I'm back home, going to church with my parents on Sunday. I can still picture the sound of the organ, the bustle of people as they greeted each other, and the laughter of children as they chased each other, dodging between the adults' legs. The smell of old paper and wood.

I come back to reality, realizing my group has moved on, and I hurry to the front doors. They're already open, everyone waiting by the entrance, and when I get to the steps, I can hear grunting, heavy thuds, and wet crunching.

We go inside. There are differences from the churches I'm used to, but the base is the same: pews, a pulpit, bibles and hymnals. The building itself is a lot smaller, just a one-room sanctuary. Shane and Rick stand over a few dead walkers and Daryl walks to the front, where a giant crucifix with a bronze Jesus on it watches over us all.

"SOPHIA!" Rick screams as he throws open a side door.

Daryl stops in front of the Jesus statue, staring up at it. "Yo, J.C, you taking requests?" he asks. He turns and walks back down the aisle, brow furrowed.

"I'm telling you, it's the wrong church. It's got no steeple, Rick. There's no steeple!" Shane insists.

As if arguing against him, the bells start up again, loud and insistent. Daryl shoves past us in his rush to be first out the door, barrelling down the front steps and rounding the side of the building, but all we find is a loudspeaker mounted on the side wall.

Glenn jogs to the fuse box mounted far below it and flings it open, flipping the switch and killing the sound.

"A timer," Daryl says, a bit breathless as he aims his hooked blade towards the speaker. "It's on a timer."

Shoulders slump. Bells on a timer means no bell ringer, which means no Sophia.

"I'm gonna go back in for a bit," Carol murmurs before disappearing inside.

Most everyone seems to follow after her, taking a rest in the shade the building provides, while Andrea sits down against the wall, arms hooked around her knees, and I stand for a moment before walking off. I debate going into the church, but Carol's standing by the crucifix with her head bowed and I feel wrong being privy to her prayers.

Lori and Shane linger out front and I slip away from them too. I want to be alone, even for a second, to sit and think and question what this world has become.

I go far out into the cemetery, moving among the stones, until I sit down when it feels right. I bow my head into my folded hands, pressing them into my forehead. I try to pray, just in my head, because I'm not sure I trust my voice right now. My thoughts are jumbled, scattered, but one thing is clear.

"Please let us find her. Please."

"Hope?"

I startle, breaking my trail of thought clean down the middle, and look back as Daryl approaches.

"The hell are you doing?" he asks.

I look away from him. "I was trying to pray...but words are hard."

"Oh."

He stops at my side and looks down at me as I sigh, letting my hands fall to my lap.

"I just want to find Sophia," I say. "Carol doesn't deserve this. Neither does Sophia, but..."

Daryl grunts a bit, glancing back at the church. "She thinks God's punishing her, from the sound of it."

"I don't believe that. Sophia's innocent and Carol..." I shake my head. I don't know much about her but the little I saw of her situation was enough. She was a victim trapped in a horrible place.

"Yeah, I get it," he says. "I wanna find her too."

"Then we keep looking. The day's still young," I reply. I push myself to my feet, looking back at the church. "You know, this kinda reminds me of back home."

"Yeah?"

I nod. "This is a Baptist church. Mine was bigger, and it wasn't southern, but..."

Daryl lifts his eyebrows as he stares at the building. "There's a difference?"

"Oh, definitely. Southern Baptists are a lot more...conservative," I say. "No women in the clergy, the Bible is absolute and must be followed, no same-sex marriage, etcetera."

"Damn." He looks back at me. "I thought you were Catholic."

I can't help but laugh. It's short, disbelieving, and not all that joyful. "Oh, no. Baptist is a sect of Protestant Christianity, so...the opposite of Catholic."

"Religion seems confusing."

"I'll simplify it for you." I rest my hand on my chest. "I believe that Jesus is the blueprint for how we should live our lives, and that all people can access God if they choose to." I sigh a bit. "I...choose to live peacefully, to love others, to forgive. It's not always easy but I do believe it's the best path."

When I look at him, he's looking at me like I'm something to solve again. Then, he nods. "That explains quite a bit, actually."

"Does it?" I can't help but smile a little. I lean heavily onto my leg and give the building one more look. "I miss the potlucks most, though."

"Hell, even I've been to a few of those. Can't beat free, homecooked food, and most church people don't bat an eye at a few extra mouths."

"Exactly."

We both turn as the front doors to the church creak open and everyone floods from it, gathering by the front sign, and we join them. Rick and Shane talk a few feet away and, after a few seconds, Shane turns back. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his head before stopping in front of us.

"Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay?" he says. "Daryl, you're in charge. Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."

"You're splitting us up. You sure?" Daryl asks.

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you."

"Wait, can I come with you?" I ask, raising my hand a bit. "I want to keep looking too. If Sophia heard those bells, she might be headed this way, and she could be hurt." I shift my bag. "I brought medical supplies."

"Ah, well, Hope..." Shane starts, pursing his lips at me.

"It's not a bad idea," Rick says. "T-Dog's got the medicine he needs back at the RV, so it's not like she's needed there urgently."

"I want to stay too," Carl pipes up. "Sophia's my friend."

Rick and Shane look at each other. Carl looks at me, then at Lori, and she smiles as she pats his shoulder.

"Just be careful, okay?" she asks.

"I will," Carl promises.

Lori cups his face in her hands, then hugs him. "When did you start growing up?" she asks, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Rick steps forward, giving his wife a quick kiss before pulling her in for a hug too. I hear him murmuring assurances to her. When they separate, he reaches for the pistol on his hip.

"Here, take this," he says, holding it out to her. "Remember how to use it?"

"I'm not taking your gun and leaving you unarmed," Lori replies, shaking her head.

"Here, got a spare," Daryl says. He has a small gun in his hand, and he holds it out to her. "Take it."

She does. I hear Andrea scoff under her breath. As we slowly split off, Daryl backs up a few steps to where I am and leans in, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek.

"Stay safe out there," he whispers.

"I will," I say.

He walks back to the returning group and I smile, gripping my backpack straps a little tighter before I turn and join Rick, Carl, and Shane.

"Give me a minute?" Rick asks, and Shane nods.

Rick heads into the church and the rest of us sit outside on the steps. After a few minutes, Rick walks back outside.

"Get what you needed?" Shane asks as Rick passes us.

"Guess we'll find out," he replies.

----------

The walk is silent save for our footsteps as we search the trees for any sign of life. We won't be nearly as effective without Daryl's tracking skills, but I'm still glad we're out here and trying. I'm relieved we haven't run into any walkers except those in the church.

No sooner has the thought crossed my mind than I hear a branch snap. Rick stops us all with his hand up, the other on his gun, and I reach for my knife. The rustling continues and Rick urges us forward, moving ever so slowly towards the noise.

I stop short. A beautiful buck moves through the trees and emerges onto the path in front of us. His horns are still covered in a soft layer of velvet and his coat is a shiny auburn brown colour that catches the sunlight. I've never seen one so close before and my heart lifts with childlike excitement. He shakes out his coat and licks his muzzle, tail flicking.

Beautiful, I think, and sobering. Even with the world gone to hell, nature is still here and thriving, from the looks of it. They're used to the life of escaping from predators. I wonder if they've noticed how things have changed.

"Shane," Rick murmurs.

I look back to see Shane has raised his shotgun, but he lowers it as Carl creeps forward, eyes wide and a smile on his face.

The buck keeps grazing, snuffling among the leaves coating the forest floor. Carl gets closer and, under his foot, a twig snaps. The deer looks up at him, ears perked and alert. Carl stops moving but the wonder on his face remains.

I'm almost glad Daryl isn't here. The buck would already be dead if he was.

I smile at the thought just as my gaze moves past it to the trees beyond. For a second, I swear I see something move, a dark shape. I creep forward, just enough to reach out and slowly pull Carl behind me, nudging him back toward his dad.

The deer shifts, stomping one hoof on the ground, but it doesn't move. I squint at the trees, at the spot where I thought I saw the shadow, listening for footsteps.

"Hope?" Carl whispers.

Maybe I'm imagining things, but I saw something and it could be a walker. I keep my arm out. I won't risk it if something's about to jump out at us. If something does, I'll shove Carl away.

"I...thought I saw something," I whisper. I look back at him over my shoulder, at the confusion on his face. "Maybe—"

A crack rings out, like thunder, and a blinding pain rips through my side. I gasp and, for a second, I'm weightless. Carl screams my name and everything goes black as I hit the ground hard.