Rosie had fallen asleep right there in her spot in the RV, and no one bothered to wake her up. They knew that she really needed the rest. They spent the night on the highway rather than going to the farm right away because they figured it'd be easier to find it in the daylight. Everyone else got up early in the morning and they began their journey to find the farm.

When Rosie did finally wake up, it was because someone was crouched down next to her, brushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered open to see that it was Lori.

"Hey, sweetheart. We made it to the farm. Let's get you inside so you can get your leg stitched up," she said, giving Rosie a comforting smile. Rosie didn't feel very comforted, though, because she knew the stitches would hurt a hundred times worse than Daryl cleaning and bandaging the wound did.

When she sat up, Rosie remembered how dizzy she felt. She had fallen asleep before she could eat anything. She was going to ask for something until her eyes landed on a breakfast bar on the table. Dale must have left it there for her. She set her velociraptor down and unwrapped the breakfast bar before practically eating the whole thing in one bite.

"Do you think you can walk? Or do you want me to get Daryl?" Lori asked, putting her hand on Rosie's shoulder. Rosie didn't want to be carried again. It made her feel weak and like a burden. It was embarrassing. So, after grabbing her velociraptor again, she stood up off of the seat, balancing all of her weight on her left leg.

Lori was quick to put an arm around her, helping her walk. They walked to towards the door of the RV, and when they got there, Rosie stared down at the few steps with disdain. She hopped down one step, almost falling, but Lori was there to balance her again. Rosie could now see out the door of the RV. She hadn't seen the distance between the house and the RV yet. It was going to take a lot of hopping. She sighed and tilted her head down, feeling discouraged. The distance would be practically nothing if her leg wasn't throbbing so bad.

"Come on," Daryl's gruff voice suddenly said. He appeared in front of the door of the RV. "That lady jus' finished stitchin' up T-Dog. She's waitin' for ya."

Rosie flinched back a little when he reached out towards her, but she didn't fight it when he picked her up the same way he did the day before. Sure, she felt embarrassed, but she really didn't want to have to walk all the way up the driveway, across the front yard, and up the porch.

Daryl carried Rosie inside and set her on the couch in the living room. Her stomach churned with anxiety and dread when a blonde woman came into the living room holding a needle and thread. The woman sat down on the coffee table in front of Rosie's leg.

"What's your name, darlin'?" she asked.

"Rosie," Rosie answered quietly.

"I'm Patricia. Can you roll up your pant leg for me, Rosie?" Patricia asked.

Rosie nodded and reluctantly rolled up her shorts, clenching her teeth as her leg throbbed. The white bandage was stained red, but there wasn't nearly as much blood as there was before. Patricia took off the bandage as the brown haired woman from the forest appeared in the room with a brown bottle and a white paper towel.

"Now, this is gonna sting somethin' awful, but we have to do it so it doesn't get infected," Patricia said, picking up the bottle. She provided no further warning before pouring the liquid onto the wound. Rosie instantly tried getting away, but the brown haired woman put a hand on her calf, holding her leg down.

However, the pain of cleaning the wound was nothing compared to the feeling of thread being sewn into her skin. "No, no, no, no. Fuck, stop it! Stop it," Rosie whimpered, trying her hardest not to cry. Patricia did not, in fact, stop.

"Jus' don't think 'bout it," Daryl told the girl. He was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching as Patricia stitched up the wound and almost cringing just looking at it.

"I'm thinkin' about it," Rosie assured him, balling her hands into fists and feeling her nails dig into her palms. She gripped her velociraptor tightly. For whatever reason, holding it made her feel better.

As Patricia continued stitching up the wound, Rosie continued muttering all the swear words she could think of, even though it didn't make her feel any better. After about five minutes of constant pain and agony, Patricia finished the stitches and stood back up.

"Well, you've got quite the mouth on you," she said, putting her needle and thread into a small bag. Rosie felt embarrassed, but didn't say anything. Patricia gave her a small smile, almost apologizing for how painful the stitches were, and then left the room.

"It's best if you stay here for awhile. Stay off that leg," the brown haired woman said. She had a thick southern accent and Rosie kind of liked it. "I'm Maggie by the way. If you need anything, just let me know."

Rosie didn't say anything, suddenly feeling a bit shy. Maggie gave her a smile before leaving the room. The moment she left, Rosie turned to look at Daryl. "I'm hungry," she said.

Daryl scoffed. "Why the hell didn't ya tell her that?" he asked. Rosie just shrugged, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Whatever," Daryl grumbled before following the direction Maggie left in.

He found Maggie in the kitchen, standing in front of the sink. She turned when she heard his footsteps, giving a small smile. "Need somethin'?" she asked.

"Says she's hungry," Daryl said.

"I'm sure. I hear it's been a rough couple of days for you all. I'll make her a sandwich," Maggie said.

She pulled a butter knife out of one of the drawers and a plate and peanut butter from some cabinets. She took bread and jelly from the fridge and got to work, making a PB&J. Daryl stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do, but Maggie started up conversation quickly.

"We have a lot of books upstairs. I was thinkin' I'd bring her some. She's bound to get awful bored sitting around all day, so I thought that'd help keep her entertained. Got any idea of what she'd be interested in?" Maggie asked as she spread the peanut butter across the bread.

Daryl was unsure of what to answer with at first.

He thought back to when they found her on the roof. Merle had left her a note in a dinosaur themed coloring book. And when he picked up her backpack in the alleyway after she was taken by the vatos, he had put her discarded pocket knife in the bag and noticed that there were several small, plastic dinosaurs in it. When they found her with the vatos, she was coloring in another dinosaur activity book. And the whole time she rode in the truck with him, she was entertaining herself with the dinosaur coloring books. And she was always holding that damn velociraptor toy, which was why Daryl thought to give it to her with her shirt back in the RV.

"Yeah. She, uh, she likes dinosaurs," Daryl answered.

"Oh, I'm sure we have plenty books she'd like, then. My brother had a dinosaur phase when he was around her age," Maggie said with a smile. She put the two halves of the sandwich together and handed the plate over to Daryl. "I'll go see what I can find."

After nodding a thank you, Daryl returned to the living room and put the plate down on the coffee table. Rosie was quick to take a large bite of her sandwich. "Is Sophia ok?" she asked once she was done chewing.

"Not sure yet. Rick said it was a huntin' accident. Some guy was shootin' a deer, didn't see Sophia behind it. Bullet went right through," Daryl explained, sighing as he sat down on a chair across the small living room.

"But is she gonna be ok?" Rosie asked. She felt guilty for all of this. If she were better at tracking, then maybe she could have found Sophia sooner and she wouldn't have gotten shot.

"Told ya, they ain't sure yet. Shane went on a supply run, brought back some stuff that's s'posed to help, but they don't know," Daryl said.

"Oh," Rosie said with a slight frown.

Daryl suddenly stood back up again, heading towards the doorway. "Carl's been dyin' to talk to ya. Lori's been holdin' him off. You fine with him comin' in here?"

Rosie shrugged. "Don't care," she said. She knew Carl was going to come and ask her a million questions sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Daryl left Rosie to finish her sandwich. When she was done, she wanted to get up and bring the plate to the sink to wash it so she didn't get in trouble, but Maggie told her to stay off her leg, so she stayed put. She hoped she wouldn't get in trouble for it.

Not even a second later, the front door swung open and Carl came bounding into the room. He plopped himself down onto the couch next to Rosie, and Rosie scooted away from him.

"Is your leg ok? Does it hurt?" Carl asked.

"Yeah."

"Yeah it's ok or yeah it hurts?"

"Both."

"How'd it happen?"

"Fell."

"Did you kill those walkers in the church?"

"Yeah."

"That's awesome! Could you teach me how?" Carl asked, raising his eyebrows at the girl. She shrugged and fiddled with the end of her shirt. "You know how to shoot too, right? Could you teach me?"

"I don't know. Why don't you have yer dad teach ya? He's the cop," Rosie said, crossing her arms. She wondered why Rick hadn't already taught Carl to shoot. It was a useful skill.

"He's a sheriff's deputy," Carl corrected, sounding somewhat proud of his dad's career. "What did your dad do?"

Rosie thought about the question for a few moments. She never knew how to answer it. Sometimes people would ask her it at school, but she honestly didn't know what her dad did. He never left for work on a consistent schedule. He'd leave for days on end sometimes, sometimes he'd go to work every day for a few weeks, and sometimes he just wouldn't go anywhere, but it never stayed the same.

"I don't know. Don't know if he had a job," Rosie said, shrugging her shoulders.

Carl's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Then how'd he make money?" he asked. Rosie shrugged again. "How'd you pay for food and stuff then?"

"Got food stamps on the fifth a' each month. We just went huntin' if we ran out."

"Oh," Carl said, thinking about her answer. It was interesting to him now different his life was from her's, and he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn't want to annoy her. He was also worried that maybe her dad was a sensitive topic, so he picked a different one. "What school did you go to? Maybe we went to the same one."

"I ain't from Georgia. We couldn't go to the same school," Rosie said, shaking her head. Carl raised his eyebrows in question.

"Where are you from then?"

"Reston, Virginia," Rosie recited.

"Virginia?! Then what are you doing in Georgia?" Carl asked. He wasn't used to her giving out so many answers to his questions. She usually told him to leave her alone. He was sure that this was the most words she'd ever even spoken to him.

"Daddy and me were comin' here ta get my gram-pa, but Gram-pa was dead when we got ta his cabin," Rosie said as if it were nothing. She didn't know her grandpa well- she had never met him before- so it wasn't a very sad death for her. Not like her dad's death.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Carl said solemnly.

"Carl!" Lori called, walking into the house. She stepped into the doorway of the living room. "The funeral for Otis is starting. Come on," she said beckoning Carl out of the room. Carl nodded and went outside, but Lori stayed in the doorway a moment longer. "Hershel said it'd be better if you just stayed here. He doesn't want you to pop your stitches." Rosie nodded and Lori left after Carl.

Who's Otis? And who's Hershel?