We brave the winter together. We try to better communicate with each other and, with Rick at the helm, we learn to work as a team even when tensions run high elsewhere. Our hair gets longer, we're dirtier than ever, but I've never been so fit in my life. If only our nutrition could keep up with the exercise.

I still stay away from guns, but I get more practice with my knife and machete. I discover that, while I'm not the strongest, I'm agile and not too bad at disabling walkers. I train with Daryl to improve my skills when we're not moving, hiding, or huddling for warmth. There's not much alone time to be had, but that's less temptation for me. We don't need two pregnant women in our group, after all.

Hershel shows me more basic medical training and, not long after the loss of the farm, Carol joins in. I think she's the same as me—we don't want to be seen as useless to our group. She gets an upper hand, though, since she's willing to learn how to shoot. Daryl does his best with me but guns still make me feel sick.

Lori gets bigger and bigger with every week that passes and the rest of us step up to help her whenever we can. We go on supply runs, collect gas, and find ammo where we can, and everyone learns to lean on melee weapons more than bullets to dispatch the walkers we come across. We get a new truck at one point, bringing our vehicle count to three, and Daryl's Chopper makes four.

I tell stories about the snow storms in Canada, how there's nothing to stop those cold prairie winds from freezing you through, how the snowdrifts can easily come up to your knee or deeper. The best parkas are the ones that protect at -40 degrees Celsius. I hope that it keeps spirits high by sharing how much worse it could be. For the most part, it seems to work.

Daryl still doesn't tell me that he loves me, but I feel loved nonetheless. I feel loved in how he holds me close underneath a pile of quilts, in how he guides my hands when we train together, in how he shoots me little side glances when I do something that makes him proud. I feel it especially when in the little private moments we do get, he touches me and kisses me like I'm something precious, murmuring my name into my throat as I stroke him to completion.

God, it was awkward at first. I hadn't done much of anything and he admitted that he hadn't been sober for most of his experiences, but we talked through it. We talked through what felt good, what felt weird, what was almost there but not quite, and it just added to every intense feeling I've ever felt around him.

It feels like one good thing in all of this, that I found him and that he wants me, too. Maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better about it all, but it's working, so I leave it be.

The weather gets warmer. Survival feels easier when you're not shivering.

----------

I wait with Lori, Beth, Hershel, Carol, and all our supplies while the others move ahead to clear a house. After a few minutes, we hear a short, sharp whistle—the signal from Rick that we're good to go. No walkers.

We head up to the front doors, hauling our bedding and backpacks. My trusty bag from the farmhouse stays on my shoulders.

Maggie and Glenn carry out a downed walker as we enter. I smile at Rick, nodding, and he returns it. Rick shuts the door behind us and latches it once we're all safe inside. We gather in the living room, where Daryl is de-feathering some kind of bird.

He notices the curious look I give him and he lifts it. A Great Horned owl, from the looks of it, and I purse my lips. I'm not sure how much meat an owl will have, but at this point, I'm hungry enough to eat anything.

The others check the windows, watching for more trouble, and Lori takes a second to sit down and catch her breath. Glenn and Maggie look over our bags. Carl runs into the room with two cans in his arms. He grabs a can opener from the nearest backpack and gets to work. I get a look at the label. Champ's Pebbles, it says, with a picture of a Pomeranian on the front.

Rick moves to Carl and picks up the can. He stares at the label, turns, and pitches it into the fireplace with a loud clang. Daryl jumps, looking up from his owl, and Rick just paces, hands clenched into tight fists.

T-Dog straightens up from his spot near the window. "Psst," he hisses, jerking his head to it.

Walkers. Big surprise. We pick up our things, help Lori to her feet, duck out the back door, and make our way back to the vehicles. Maggie grabs an abandoned axe from a nearby wood pile and tosses it in with the rest of our supplies.

Walkers snarl as they stumble towards us, but we don't bother attacking. We're faster than them anyway.

We climb into our various vehicles and drive off.

----------

We stop once we've reached a quieter area. Everyone parks and regroups by the Tuscon as Maggie rolls out our map. Carl and Beth keep watch, each looking down one side of the highway, weapons in hand.

"We got no place left to go," T-Dog says as he eyes the map, covered in red markings where we've run into trouble too big for us to handle.

"When this herd meets up with this one, we'll be cut off," Maggie says, pointing as she goes. "We'll never make it south."

"What would you say? That was about 150 heads?" Daryl asks Glenn across the hood.

"That was last week," Glenn says. "It could be twice that by now."

"This river could've delayed them," Hershel suggests, pointing to the map. "If we move fast, we might have a shot to tear right through there."

"Yeah, but if this group joins with that one, they could spill out this way," T-Dog says.

"So we're blocked," Maggie sighs.

"Only thing to do is double back at 27 and swing towards Greenville," Rick says.

T-Dog rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, we picked through that already. It's like we spent the winter going in circles."

"Yeah, I know. I know," Rick sighs. "At Newnan, we'll push west. Haven't been through there yet. We can't keep going from house to house. Need to find someplace to hole up for a few weeks."

I glance over at the Silverado and Lori sitting in the front seat. We're all tired, but her exhaustion is palpable.

"Alright, is it cool if we get to the creek before we head out?" T-Dog asks as Maggie rolls the map back up. "Won't take long. We've gotta fill up on water. We can boil it later."

"Knock yourself out," Rick says.

Hershel pulls him aside to talk and I join Daryl just as he loads a bolt into his crossbow.

"Hey, while the others wash their panties, let's go hunt," he says. "That owl won't exactly hit the spot."

"You know I'm not much good at hunting," I retort.

He shrugs. "Good at retrieving arrows, collecting game."

"Makes me sound like a hunting dog."

"I'll call you Little Ann."

"Well, then you're Old Dan." I bump my shoulder to his and he snorts a bit.

"Ain't an insult. They're good dogs. Brave, loyal—"

"Am I sensing you want to read that book again?"

"It's a damn good book."

I giggle and he gives me a coy smile as he checks his bow. He glances over my shoulder, eyebrow lifting.

"Yo, Rick," he calls as Rick separates from his and Hershel's conversation. "Gonna go hunt. You in?"

He nods and we head off into the trees.

I lean closer to Daryl, whispering. "And here I thought you wanted alone time," I tease.

He huffs. "Gotta feed ourselves first."

We move through the woods, Daryl at the head of our trio. We reach a set of worn-out train tracks and follow it. As we go, I hear groaning and reach for my knife as we move to a small break in the trees. A prison stands before us, all concrete walls and a fenced area with a field full of walkers in prison jumpsuits. Barbed wire tops the chain-link fences.

"That's a shame," Daryl comments.

I slow to a stop at the same time as Rick. Fences, green space and, beyond all that, a place specifically meant to keep people inside. Safe.

I meet Rick's eyes. "Do you think...?"

I haven't seen him with this much hope in his eyes since the farm. "Let's tell the others."

-----------

Rick cuts into the chain link fence surrounding the prison with a pair of bolt cutters. A few walkers come up to us, but Glenn, Maggie, and I make quick work of them. The rest of us fall into our usual position; backs to each other, shoulder to shoulder in a circle with Lori in the middle.

"Watch the backside," T-Dog warns.

"Got it," Lori says.

"Hurry, hurry!" Rick urges and Daryl and him pull the fence open.

We duck through, emerging into the gravel dog run between the fenced yard and the outer chain-link fence, the place where guards used to patrol. As soon as we're all through, Daryl and Glenn tie the broken fence back together with wire. They finish just as a walker tries to follow us in, snarling and rattling the fence.

We jog around the dog run to the front gates even as the walkers in and outside the prison snarl and throw themselves against the fencing, trying to reach us. I've never been anywhere near a prison before now but from the looks of it, we're in the spot where vehicles were stopped and checked over. There are two sets of gates so that, when one opens, the other can stay closed. Before the apocalypse, that made it harder to escape, but now it means safety like no other.

"It's perfect," Rick says. He points at where there's an open gate leading from the field into the prison courtyard. "If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers. We'll take the field by tonight."

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asks.

"I'll do it," Glenn says. "You guys cover me."

"No, it's a suicide run," Maggie says.

"I'm the fastest."

"I can go with you," I offer. "I can watch your back."

"No," Rick says, pointing at the prison walkers. "You two, Maggie, T-Dog, and Beth, draw as many as you can over there. Pop 'em through the fence. Daryl, go back to the other tower with Carol." He turns to her as he says it. "Carol, you've become a pretty good shot. Take your time. We don't have a lot of ammo to waste." She nods, running off to the tower with Daryl, and Rick turns to Hershel. "Hershel, you and Carl take this tower." He points at the one right next to us. "I'll run for the gate."

Everyone splits off to their spots. My group and I start rattling the fence, enticing the walkers to us. When they get close enough, we shove our weapons through the gaps in the fence and into their brains.

Lori lets Rick out into the courtyard. A few shots go off and I keep stabbing, shouting, smacking the fence and shrieking like a lunatic. Some walkers follow Rick, but most come to us, as planned.

"Light it up!" Daryl shouts.

More gunfire, the sound filling the air, and I step back as the others take down the remaining walkers. I see Rick on the far tower, hunting rifle in hand.

I've gotten better around guns, especially the sound of shots. I don't react nearly as badly as I did back at the farm, but it was an uphill battle for a while. It took tons of encouragement from Daryl to even get me to hold a gun again, much less do any target practice over the winter. It felt like a waste of ammo but Rick insisted that I should at least know how to aim.

I know it's necessary, that they're useful against walkers, but...that's just another thing I can't seem to let go of.

When the last walker collapses, there's a brief moment as that final shot rings out, echoes, and dies. I hurry back to where Lori still waits by the gate and she's smiling like this is the best day of her life.

Lori pulls the gate open and I return her smile as I reach her side. "Amazing!"

"It really is," she agrees.

I hear a joyous laugh as Carol and Daryl return, as well as Hershel and Carl.

"Fantastic!" Carol says as she practically skips up to us. She looks at Lori. "You okay?"

"I haven't felt this good in weeks," she says.

Daryl sweeps to my side, patting Lori on the shoulder before we go into the courtyard. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face and I run across the grass, arms spread out. I spin in a little circle and laugh into the sky.

"Oh my word, look at it!" I say.

"We haven't had this much space since we left the farm!" Carol laughs.

She runs to me and I hug her, laughing and rejoicing together as we spin in a slow, wobbly circle like drunken dancers. The others trail after us, looking around at everything we just accomplished. I hear T-Dog laughing and, when I look back, he's got his arms in the air in a victory pose.

"WHOOOO!" he hollers.

I laugh again, light and carefree. Thank God, I think. Thank God.

----------

We bring the vehicles into the front fenced area, parking them facing the exit if we have to make a quick getaway. It's good to be cautious but honestly, I have such a good feeling about this place and nothing can bring down my mood. I want to sing, dance, laugh and joke like there's no tomorrow.

Daryl and Rick go back out to hunt, returning with a rabbit and a couple of squirrels. When night falls, we build a fire and cook them up along with the owl Daryl caught. I get to practice my skinning and cleaning and, although I'm nowhere near as fast or good as Daryl, it gets food over the fire a bit quicker with the both of us working together.

Daryl goes to take watch while the rest of us, save for Rick, sit around the fire. Rick walks around the perimeter of the field, over and over again. We've already laid out our sleeping bags around the fire.

There's a downed bus by the gate, tipped on its side, and Daryl stands on top of it, pacing back and forth. He's wearing a poncho that he picked up during the winter, his makeshift quiver on his back. I keep glancing over at him and, after a bit, I gather some meat in a bowl and go join him.

Daryl sees me coming as I go around to the underside of the bus. He hooks his crossbow over his shoulder and kneels, reaching his hand out.

"Hey, you," he says.

"Hey," I reply, smiling. I hand him the bowl first and he sets it aside before helping me up. "I thought you'd be hungry. I know it isn't much, but..."

"It's fine," he says. He picks up the bowl and starts eating as I sit down, looking out at the others with my legs hanging off the edge of the bus. "I guess little Shane over there must have quite the appetite."

I exhale. It came out sometime over the winter what exactly happened between Rick and Shane. We all had questions, wondering what could drive a man to try and kill his best friend, and for a while, it seemed like Rick wanted to let the reasons die with Shane.

Lori was the one who admitted things first and told us the truth of her short-lived affair with Shane. She thought Rick was dead and, when he came back, Shane couldn't let go of what they had done and how it made him feel. Things just kept getting worse until it reached the point of no return.

Hearing it all, I wonder if Shane would've gone on that supply run with Otis if Carl hadn't asked him to. I wonder if his love for the boy and his mother, however twisted, is one of the only reasons I'm still here. I don't like to dwell on it. I want to believe that Shane was good, but the world broke him.

I force myself away from those thoughts. "It could be little Rick," I say.

He raises an eyebrow. "Think the timeline says otherwise."

"Does it really matter anymore?"

"Guess not."

We lapse into silence as he keeps eating. I roll my shoulders, stretching the muscles gently as I press my hand to a knot in my back. Between my choice to use a knife and a wonky sleep last night, my neck is killing me.

"You good?" Daryl asks.

I glance back at him. "Yeah, fine. Neck's a little sore."

He grunts. "Hold on."

He sucks the juice from his fingers as he sets the bowl down on the van, kneeling behind me. He moves my hair off my neck before placing his hands on my shoulders, thumbs digging into my skin. I let out a long breath, closing my eyes as he works at my tense muscles.

Just feeling his touch, my mind jumps to thoughts of other, more entertaining things, and I glance back at him as he keeps massaging. "You know, with this place, we might finally get some privacy," I say slowly, swinging my legs a little, and I feel his hands still. "We could have some fun."

He snorts, but the burning look he gives me makes butterflies erupt in my stomach. "Think so?"

"It'd be nice not to have to hide, don't you think?"

During the winter, the few times we had the chance, we were stuck feeling each other up underneath a quilt, muffling each other's moans in an attempt not to alert anyone or anything. More clothes stayed on than came off. It was fun, and still felt good, but I miss what we had at the farm. I wish we'd taken more advantage of it.

"Mm, yeah," he mumbles. He stops massaging me, getting back to his feet as he jerks his head towards the others. "Better get back."

I frown a little. "You okay?"

He pauses, then leans in close to me. "You're putting ideas in my head. Gonna act on 'em if you don't stop." He keeps his voice low, words brushing over me and making me shiver.

"Oh?" My lip curls into a teasing smirk. "Right here on the bus?"

"Careful," he says. "Think God likes hearing you talk like that?"

"We haven't done anything wrong. What happens between consenting adults is none of God's business."

I think some Christians would be clutching their pearls at me if they heard me say that. I know because many of them went to my old church, but screw them. I haven't committed "the act" or "given up my purity" or any of that junk. Really, all that's keeping me from it now is this lingering sense of worry about the factors I can't control—if he ends up leaving me, if I get pregnant, or because even though I'm trying to move past it, he still hasn't told me he loves me.

I may not wait for marriage anymore, but I know that I want some kind of commitment. I don't think Daryl's ready for that.

He snorts. "You're such a damn nerd, you know that?"

"Mm, yeah, but aren't I just so darn lovable?"

He replies with a kiss and I'm almost embarrassed by how bad I just want to tug him behind this bus and steal some time for ourselves. He pulls back, smirking a little when I whine, and he lightly pokes my nose.

"Naughty girl."

I swear, God must have put Daryl Dixon in my life to teach me about temptation, to test me. I've never wanted to rip a man's clothes off so badly before. I lightly touch my cross necklace and breathe slowly.

He hops off the bus, turning to offer me a hand, and I come down after him. We walk back to the firepit hand-in-hand and as we sit down, Hershel speaks.

"Bethy, sing Paddy Reilly for me," he says. "I haven't heard that, I think, since your mother was alive."

"Daddy, not that one, please," Maggie murmurs.

"How about...the Parting Glass?"

"I love that song," I murmur wistfully.

Beth keeps her head down, cheeks pink. "No one wants to hear."

"Why not?" Glenn asks. He and Maggie smile at her.

She fidgets, still looking around at all of us.

"Of all the money...that e'er I had," I sing softly. Beth looks at me and I smile a bit, giving her an encouraging nod. "I spent it in good company."

Beth's shoulders relax and she joins me on the next line. "And all the harm that e'er I've done. Alas it was to none but me. And all I've done for want of wit to memory now I can't recall. So fill to me...the parting glass. Good night and joy be with you all."

Our voices mingle, sometimes clashing when I sing a different word than her, but the melody is the same and it feels nice to sing. I haven't done it for anyone other than myself in a long time. Rick walks up and joins everyone by the fire, squatting in between Lori and Carl.

"Of all the comrades that e'er I had," Maggie joins in on the song, "were sorry for my going away. And all the sweethearts that e'er I had would wish me one more day to stay. But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not. I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, good night and joy be with you all. Good night and joy be with you all."

The song ends and I look over at Daryl, still grinning, to find he's gazing at me intently. My heart skips a beat and I flush, looking at my lap. Beth and Maggie sit back, sharing a brief look and a tiny smile with each other.

"Beautiful," Hershel says. "Thank you, girls."

Rick shifts, still only kneeling. "Better all turn in," he says. "I'll take watch over there. Got a big day tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" Glenn asks.

"Look, I know we're all exhausted," Rick says, looking at Carl, then back up at us. "This was a great win, but we've got to push just a little bit more. Most of the walkers are dressed as guards and prisoners. Looks like this place fell pretty early. It could mean the supplies may be intact. They'd have an infirmary, a commissary."

"An armoury?" Daryl asks.

"That would be outside the prison itself but not too far away," he replies. "Warden's offices would have info on the location. Weapons, food, medicine. This place could be a gold mine!"

"We're dangerously low on ammo," Hershel says. "We'd run out before we make a dent."

"That's why we have to go in there," Rick says, "hand to hand." His eyes dart to me and a little thrill goes down my spine. Fear, too, but above it, a sense that my time has finally come. "After all we've been through, we can handle it. I know it." He looks down at his son lying beside him and smirks a little. "These assholes don't stand a chance."

He looks around at all of us, nods once, then gets back up and walks off. After a second, Lori heaves herself to her feet and follows him.

I settle down to sleep, the sleeping bag beneath me soft enough that I can almost pretend I'm not on the ground in the middle of a field. Daryl pulls his crossbow and poncho off before settling down next to me, draping the poncho over me. I cuddle close to him.

"Didn't know you could sing," he mumbles to me. "Heard you humming, but..."

I look up at him. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Hershel said it best," he replies. "Beautiful."

I blush, smiling a bit. "Thanks. I feel a bit rusty," I admit.

"Gonna have to do it more."

"Maybe. Got any requests?"

"You know Motörhead?" I shake my head and he huffs a bit. "Damn. Gotta find some vinyl or something. Show you some real music."

"We'll keep an eye out. Unless you want to sing some for me?"

"Only if you like the sound of dying cats." I giggle into his chest and he presses a kiss to my hair. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay," I say. As I close my eyes, I add, "Love you."

A brief pause. "Yeah, I know."