⊱ 04 ~ ❝ eat a pickerel ❞ ⊰
〖 season one, episode three 〗

Ever since Clementine mentioned her mother ⎯⎯ Jim's wife ⎯⎯ his flat facade had begun deteriorating into an intensifying pit of despair. A deep hole nobody saw him sinking into, except for Clementine. His beloved daughter saw right into his suffocating pain through his impassive visage.

It was a place no living being could pull him out of, especially now that his wife wasn't around. Marie Holloway was the only one ever able to pull her husband out of his ever-unreachable state of misery.

If Clem had even tried to console the man or distract him from what was besetting him ⎯⎯ she'd more likely than not, be met with resistance. Don't worry about me, everything is perfectly fine, you just think about something else. Many phrases Clementine could almost hear him say when imagining trying to talk to her father about his feelings.

Therefore, she gave him the space she not only believed he needed but knew he desperately wanted. If she found him sitting alone in the woods she wouldn't be surprised ⎯⎯ he was the exact person who gave her, the natural desire for solitude.

While giving him space, he still insisted on her staying in the main camp. A place where she had little to preoccupy her ever-swirling thoughts of those in Atlanta and all the possible maybe's and ifs.

But on the other hand, Lori was happy to have the girl around, whether Clementine managed to speak a word to the woman or not ⎯⎯ Lori had a feeling Jim wasn't one to express much love to his daughter lately, so she hoped she could only bring the child some attention she may desire.

At the moment, Lori was snipping off pieces of her son's hair, trying to tame the mane that was starting to become overgrown. Shane sat on the other side of the firepit, cleaning his gun nonchalantly.

Clementine had nothing to preoccupy her hands, so she just sat quietly, staring at her shoes and listening to Lori's calm scolds towards her son for moving his head too much. An oddly familiar situation ⎯⎯ reminded Clementine of her mother cutting all the boy's hair, including her father.

"If you think this is bad... Wait till you start shaving." Shane backs up Lori, shoving a stick down the barrel of his gun that resembled a toothbrush. "That stings." He continued, smiling at the boy and his mother. "That day comes, you'll be wishin' for one of ya' mama's haircuts.

Carl scoffed as he rolled his eyes, not entertained by the thought of actually enjoying the haircuts one day. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Something as simple as having to shave facial hair wasn't at the top of Clementine's list of worries. Since being left with just her father, many things were forced to the forefront of her mind. Things she used to feel content with leaving it up to her mother to anticipate. One of those many concerns ⎯⎯ the ever-daunting approach of a menstrual cycle.

Thankfully, her mother explained all the necessary needs that came with such horrors, tampons, pads, cramps, and all. But, without her, it all became more frightening to consider, especially the thought of going through it without her.

Even though her father had explicitly urged her to keep her thoughts to herself, and not to get into other people's business, she once again found herself unable to not verbalize her thoughts ⎯⎯ failing to notice the possibility of the topic being uncomfortable to discuss for some people, more specifically, probably the pre-pubescent boy that might not even know what it is.

"I think periods are more worrying than the possibility of shaving facial hair." Grumbled, Clementine, even less entertained by the conversation than the twelve-year-old boy. Lori laughed this time, nodding in agreement with the child.

Carl's face quickly contorted into a look of disgust. "Ew!" He exclaimed dramatically. "I don't have to worry about that..." Carl grumbled, his mouth stuck in a grimace.

"What if you have a daughter?" Clementine asked, raising her eyebrows at the boy.

The question snuffed the conversation into complete silence. An awkward tension thickened in the air between the four of them. Unbeknownst to Clementine, it wasn't a normal conversation topic to bring up having children ⎯⎯ with another child.

"I'll tell you what ⎯⎯ You just get through this with some manly dignity and tomorrow I'll teach you something special," Shane not-so-smoothly switched the conversation, showing a small smile to Clementine ⎯⎯ silently asking her to drop that matter ⎯⎯ a look her father regularly gave her recently.

Clementine always had a hard time growing up understanding the concept of things she was comfortable with discussing, it might be on the total opposite spectrum for other people. In her mind, most things were just a yes or no answer ⎯⎯ and if it wasn't just give the truth ⎯⎯ easy-peasy. All the so-called awkward topics and discussions didn't intimidate her. Her thought was if she had an answer she would answer.

She'd intruded on many conversations before that people weren't comfortable with a little girl partaking in ⎯⎯ mainly from her brothers and their friends. A sentiment she never could quite comprehend, that boys wouldn't want to talk about things in front of a girl.

"I will teach you to catch frogs." Shane's words sliced through Clementine's cloud of thoughts, smiling at Carl happily.

Her eyes instantaneously lit up with excitement. If one thing about Clementine was for sure, it was that she loved frogs. Not only did she spend all her time collecting rocks by the river next to her house ⎯⎯ she also spent the majority of her time catching frogs, naming them, watching them, setting them free, and doing it all over again.

Carl shrugged. "I've caught a frog before."

"I said frogs ⎯⎯ plural." Shane corrected authoritatively, holding the cleaning brush in one hand and the barrel of the gun in the other, using the brush to point in emphasis. "And it is an art, my friend. It is not to be taken lightly. There are ways and means. Few people know about it. I'm willing to share my secrets."

The level of confidence for something Clementine ⎯⎯ a child ⎯⎯ had been doing so since she could feed herself food... It confused her, to say the least. It was no art, and she knew that. "It's easy." Clementine clarified, looking back and forth between Carl and Shane. "I can help." She spoke, some excitement lighting up in her eyes.

"I would greatly appreciate that, lil' lady." Shane tried to level with her, attempting to bring the girl into the conversation like she seemed to desperately want to.

Carl twisted around, glancing back at his mother curiously for an opinion on the matter. "Oh, I'm a girl. You talk to him."

"I'm a girl." Clementine frowned, her eyebrows bunched up in annoyance at the insinuation that a girl couldn't do it. "It's easy." She argued her point.

"I just mean, I'm too squeamish, sweetheart. Of course, a girl can do it."

Clementine smiled at Lori, happy she agreed with her. It wasn't a surprise for Lori to not want to herself ⎯⎯ Clem had met many girls and women who found the things she enjoyed dearly to be weird or gross. But most of them didn't bother to tell Clem it was okay for her to do it.

On the other end of the pit, Shane snickered, putting his concentration on cleaning his weapon and the contrasting conversation about catching frogs. "It's a one-time offer, bud... Not to be repeated." He declared with a finality.

"Why do we need frogs, plural?" Carl asked, looking to Clementine ⎯⎯ seeming to think she would know the answer as the outspoken frog enthusiast.

This time she only shrugged, not knowing why Shane was so hellbent on him and Carl being the duo to catch frogs. The same question was even dancing in her mind, ready to find out herself why, since Shane was the one to bring up the prospect of catching frogs at all. It was something she was down to take part in ⎯⎯ especially if it meant she'd be allowed down in the quarry for the first time in a while. Perhaps, she'd find that rock of hers while helping catch frogs.

There were many frogs native to Atlanta Georgia, and Clem knew pretty much all of the ins and outs of every one of those frogs ⎯⎯ by heart. She knew what ones had specific patterns that adorned their back or all of the many that looked so similar to each other. All the talk about catching them had her itching to spill all the facts and tell them all about the ones they may find.

"You ever eat frog legs?"

"Eww!!"

A distraught look overcame Clementine's excitement ⎯⎯ absolutely not expecting those words to leave his mouth. "What?" She exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Not only shocked by the question but entirely appalled by the idea of eating her beloved creatures. They were just cute little animals, and they had less meat than the squirrels, so what was the point in committing this mass-frog-murder? "You can't eat them!"

Shane fought the urge to crack a smile, pressing his lips tight together, but his chest shook with a chuckle at her terror over something as simple as a frog.

The man's failure to show any sympathy for the tiny beings pushed her over the edge. She stomped away from her seat, and turned back, her face flushing with anger.

Simply thinking about participating in Shane's plans had her mind reeling. A bunch of frogs she's caught over her ten years of life cross her mind, but one in particular sticks. One she had never actually caught, but had seen ⎯⎯ had read plenty about. The one and only poisonous frog native to the area ⎯⎯ and the United States in general.

With that thought, there was only one sane thing a girl like Clementine would say, and with her opinionated nature ⎯⎯ never able to keep her thoughts to herself ⎯⎯ the words flew from her lips as she spun back to face the grown man. "I hope you eat a Pickerel!"

• ───────────────── •

Not even an hour after Clementine's odd encounter with Shane, a bright red Dodge Challenger came squealing up the hill to the camp. Glenn was the only one to step out of the vehicle, shouting over the loud car alarm and other people's screaming.

Amy was far more distraught when her sister wasn't immediately in her sights. An understandable reaction when she knew Andrea left with the man right in front of her, and he didn't return with her.

The alarm muffled as Clementine plugged her ears, the pitch of it irking her immensely. Only when the alarm finally stopped did she lower her hands from her ears, watching a moving truck turn the corner and stop behind other vehicles.

Andrea, Morales, Jacqui, and T-Dog came out one after the other ⎯⎯ the lack of Merle Dixon did little to concern Clementine when the majority's consensus was pure joy. Amy bursted into jubilant tears at the simplistic sight of her living and breathing sister, both Morales's children and wife ran into his arms, and T-Dog and Jacqui shared grateful looks to have made it out alive.

It was a welcomed sight ⎯⎯ just as Dale declared as he hugged Morales. Clementine hardly knew any of the returnees but still grinned, happy for them.

There was only one thing amiss, and that was Carl's sour look of disappointment as his mother escorted him a few feet away from the overjoyed crowd. Clementine watched as the mother attempted to comfort her saddened child, holding his hands as she talked only to him.

She'd never seen Carl look so utterly crushed when everyone else was happy. It was a sight that made her heart hurt but also felt reassuring. Someone else was struggling ⎯⎯ someone else was facing their demons head-on every day while everyone else had it all together. It wasn't just her.

That was until another man stepped out of the moving truck ⎯⎯ and when anyone else would've expected it to be the last person they left with ⎯⎯ it was someone random. A man wearing a tan button-up shirt, resembling those her local cops would wear.

His eyes fell wide, raising his hand and dropping it again overwhelmed with what caught his eyes. Clementine followed his gaze, looking at Lori and Carl ⎯⎯ who shared the same awestruck looks on their faces. Those very looks of confusion, shock, relief, excitement, and that suddenly familiar look of overwhelming joy ⎯⎯ only meant one thing.

Clementine's heart froze mid-beat, stopping short of pumping the blood needed to her brain. It all stopped for a moment, but everyone kept moving around her.

Carl's father was here. That much was clear when the boy went sprinting full speed into the man's arms yelling, "Dad!"

He had risen from the dead like many others had begun to ⎯⎯ but in this instance ⎯⎯ breathing, heart beating, blood still pumping.

For the first time in many weeks, Clementine felt hope. An irreversible hope that would only end up crushing her soul further than it already had. What if his survival meant something else?

Because, maybe ⎯⎯ just maybe ⎯⎯ it meant her mother and brothers could have survived too.

• ───────────────── •

Rick Grimes, that was his name. And he was curled up by the fire, holding his wife and son closely. He had awoken to this mess, just a few days ago, and was working through the story to those who were willing to listen. Those who stayed awake, and sat by the same fire, were enraptured by Rick's story.

Clementine couldn't pull her attention away from the story, completely focused on how he made it out. Her ability to overthink doing nothing in her favor as usual ⎯⎯ telling her there was a possibility her lost family could return to her ⎯⎯ just as Rick did for Carl.

There was another topic that hung in the air over their heads.

While the group left as six and returned as six, there was a patent change in the group's dynamic and it was clear that change fell upon Rick. He was no Merle Dixon, that was for sure. Nobody couldn't have noticed they were missing the terribly racist, misogynistic, white, hill-billy redneck that forced his way into the trip to Atlanta.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?" Dale questioned, bringing up the situation at hand since everyone else had been strongly avoiding it. "He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

Nobody would say it, but Clementine was too sure that everyone else was thinking it, so she let her thoughts filter out of her mind in the form of quite harsh words. "Who cares?" It was a simple thought to her, that the people in camp were far better off without the man.

In Clementine's personal opinion, he only managed to bring down the rest of the group with his shitty attitude. Plus, she came to her perfect conclusion herself that Mr. Rick Grimes would fare way better as a companion than either Dixon ever could. But she'd be lying if it didn't make her stomach twist thinking about Daryl's reaction, or how he'd feel about his left-behind brother.

Jim placed his hand under his daughter's chin, turning her head gently and looking at her sternly. Many people looked at the girl like she'd grown three heads, so she managed to conclude that nobody else would verbally agree with her sentiment. So, she lowered her gaze to her shoes, using the toe of her shoe to dig into the pebbles and dirt.

"I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me."

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine."

"Guys, it's not a competition," Glenn interjected, looking between Rick and T-Dog. "I don't mean to bring race into this..." He started, displaying his hands in defense, "But, it might sound better coming from a white guy."

A look of guilt fell upon T-Dog's soft features, a look Clementine couldn't grasp herself, but saw it nonetheless. "I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from it." T-Dog stated, making his point of view clear as day.

"We could lie..." Amy suggested uncertainly.

"Or tell the truth." Her sister counteracted, shutting down Amy's proposition instantly. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed." She explained with honesty, showing she believed her explanation was the truth, whether it actually was or not. Andrea turned to Lori, her next words specifically for her. "Your husband did what was necessary, and if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's."

It was the first thing Clementine agreed with that was said about Merle, but with her father sitting beside her, she managed to keep her mouth shut ⎯⎯ for the time being at least.

One person didn't agree though. His bushy white eyebrows pulling together on his forehead said that before he could verbally. "And that's what we tell Daryl?" Dale asked, his mouth downturned in a gape of thoughtful disarray. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that ⎯⎯ do you?"

Her moment of silence didn't last long, the words flew out before her father could catch the wheels spinning in her head. "He's just as bad as Merle. Should just leave behind that redneck too."

Jim stood up, grabbed his daughter's hand, and walked her away from the campfire, into the bunches of tents, straight to the one they had set up camp in. She followed along, her feet stumbling to keep up with his speed as she heard the long-awaited discussion about Merle continuing.

Perhaps it wasn't very humane of her to consider not only forgetting about the abandonment of Merle Dixon but also offering up Daryl as another person to throw out onto the curb. But she didn't care. Not about the two men's feelings at least. They had proved to be nothing but horrible people in the small amount of time she had known them ⎯⎯ especially Merle. At least Daryl brought back squirrel for them to eat. At least he kept his most likely just as horrible opinions and thoughts to himself, unlike his brother.

All she knew was that usually, the apple didn't fall far from the tree, and those two came from the same tree. So, she had little hope even for the slightly less enraging younger brother to have any redeemable qualities.

Once in the tent, Jim got down on his knees, being just an inch or two shorter than her natural height. "You can't say stuff like that, Clementine." He said, holding her hands firmly, ensuring she didn't turn away from him. "It's inappropriate, and you're just a kid. You have to stay out of it."

She gnawed on the inside of her mouth thoughtfully. You'd think a kid could only be told to do something so many times before they abandoned their own opinion and did as they were told ⎯⎯ but Clementine wasn't like that. Never had been. Her moral compass was as strong as ever.

"What if staying out of it means someone else gets hurt?" She tried to excuse her actions, trying to make sense of her opinions to her father who had never been one to verbalize his own. Especially if there was a high chance of causing a disruption like Clementine had. "What if someone who truly doesn't deserve anything bad to happen to them, gets hurt?"

He shook his head, sighing as he gathered his thoughts, looking at his daughter's jacket silently. "It's not our problem."

A cold conclusion to come to. A wording that would have her mother appalled if she was around to bear witness to those words coming out of her husband's mouth.

At every family get-together. Every. Single. One. The story of Mrs. Marie Holloway and Mr. Jim Holloway's early relationship would be told to the whole family. And every time he would be named as the nicest man she had ever met ⎯⎯ courteous, sweet, smart, and purehearted. A man she never expected to find, but would never choose another over him if she had to go back in time.

All of a sudden, he had Clementine doubting herself. Such pessimistic behavior from someone who all her life had been sworn to be the most perfect example of kindness ⎯⎯ Jim had her feeling in the wrong about Daryl. Because what if Daryl was better and Clem had disregarded that possibility too early ⎯⎯ shoving him into the neatly ranked shit-eater category.

What crossed her mind was the consideration that maybe she was the problem. Contemplating in the depths of her mind that, I could be the horrible person here.

"No." She rushed out, shaking her hands out of her father's grasp, speaking the singular word in a huff of air. A high-pitched and scratchy voice, whining out, "You're wrong." It hurt to hear. To know that her father was so insistent on other human beings in this camp didn't matter ⎯⎯ the way she was just thinking about Daryl.

Jim tried to grasp his daughter's angrily flailing arms, noticing the reaction, as her father had seen it many times before. It wasn't a tantrum, it was just how she showed her emotions since she was a baby. Crying wasn't something she ever did much unless she got hurt, anger was how she really expressed her feelings ⎯⎯ and suddenly she was feeling a lot.

"You're wrong! And I'm wrong! There are good people. They deserve better, and they..." She gasped for air, forgetting to breathe through her words. "Other people ⎯⎯ they matter! They matter, dad!"

Arms enveloped her in an embrace, slowly decreasing her angry emotions as she heaved in the air needed like her lungs were collapsing. "Okay. I hear you." He whispered, running his hand through her hair gently. "I hear you, baby girl. But you have to listen to me."

She leaned back, meeting his eyes once more, still heaving in breaths after being overwhelmed with her own feelings.

"What truly matters, Clementine... Is family."

The sentence tasted sour and bitter on her tongue, and she hadn't even been the one to speak it. It wasn't a false statement ⎯⎯ but ironic. Awfully ironic of him to put family above everything on his pyramid of importance. Considering what was left of theirs.

• ───────────────── •

Last night was rough ⎯⎯ for both Jim and Clementine. Her long overdue outburst only brought long-forgotten memories to the forefront of the father's mind. Memories of a time when all his family was intact.

Those thoughts implemented themselves into his dreams, and when Clementine woke up he was struggling through those images, in a deep sleep.

The sunlight just barely managing to filter through the microscopic holes of the tent mesh was what originally awoke her. But as soon she had her eyes open, she looked over to her father ⎯⎯ like she did every morning ⎯⎯ ensuring he was still around or alive at all.

Jim's eyes were secured shut, but even with the dimly lit tent, Clementine could make out his eyes darting back and forth beneath his eyelids. Whatever had him attempting to look around was also causing him to scrunch his face. The natural wrinkles between his eyebrows and in the corners of his eyes became more apparent as he dreamed.

Clementine sat up, watching him closely, scanning her eyes over his chest looking for the slow rise. But it was different, he was inhaling deep diaphragmatic breaths and letting out weak raspy shutters of air.

"Daddy?" She called out worriedly, standing up before getting down on her knees by his sleeping bag. "Dad," Clem said more sternly this time, placing a hand on his shoulder.

In the deepest state of his sleep, his only reaction is a quick jerk away from the touch on his shoulder. The attempt at a comforting touch to wake him up only succeeded in pushing him further into his nightmare. He began trembling, his hands squeezing in fists, grabbing at the air at his sides.

She grabbed both of his shoulders this time, shaking him hard. "Wake up!" She shouted in his face fearfully. Whatever was happening in his mind quickly put her horrifying nightmares to shame ⎯⎯ she had woken up in fear before from a nightmare, but never could she see herself acting like that. "Dad, stop it!"

Suddenly his eyes snapped open, the umber eyes she had become so used to seeing looked darker. He surged forward, pushing his daughter off of himself ⎯⎯ not quite realizing what he was doing until she had fallen back on the tent's mesh flooring.

The girl half expected him to lunge at her, grab onto her, and tear into her with his once trembling hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, awaiting pain and misery, but it never came ⎯⎯ only the fear of it happening crushed her.

She blinked her eyes open, almost confused about what the reanimated version of her father was waiting for, but when their eyes met, only a look of confusion and a forming worry bore into her. It was clear the man was shocked by the physical reaction he had, reeling still from the haunting experience of his dream.

Clem sat up, eyebrows drawn together, trying to come to a reasonable conclusion. "What... Are you? What happened?"

It was easy to respond, say, I'm okay, don't worry, it was just a dream ⎯⎯ one of the many ways any parent would comfort their child after getting scared, but his lips sealed themselves shut tightly. He could only find the ability to shake his head dismissive of the topic, waving his hand subtly to emphasize his desire for the situation at hand to be dropped entirely. But there was a look of pure thought stuck on the wrinkled features of his face ⎯⎯ telling Clementine he wouldn't be forgetting it any time soon.

• ───────────────── •

Clementine and Eliza Morales walked side by side through the trees, just a couple of steps ahead stood Jacqui pointing out sap dripping from a tree to Sophia, Carl, and Louis. The two girls discovered this morning that they have a little in common.

Both had a proclivity to find and keep things just because something inside them told them they needed it ⎯⎯ but personality-wise ⎯⎯ they couldn't be more different. Eliza was soft-spoken, quiet, and yet sociable. Clementine was opinionated, and blunt, but hardly knew a thing about introducing herself to people or making friends.

While most of the camp members were spending their morning getting back into the swing of things with the rest of the people back from Atlanta ⎯⎯ Jacqui offered to take the kids just a couple of feet into the brush ⎯⎯ mumbling something about a much-needed distraction for the little ones.

Unexpectedly, Eliza gasped. Clementine's eyes immediately widened, looking around for danger and half expecting a stampede of bulls to be advancing upon the two girls, but nothing. It was just trees. "Look, it's pink, Clementine!" Eliza clarified, squatting down quickly and picking up a tiny pebble.

Clementine let out a breath, relieved. But crushed, knowing the only thing she wanted lately sat at the bottom of the quarry somewhere. "It's pretty. You should keep it." She insisted, honestly hating the color pink anyway.

The tiny somewhat pink pebble was enclosed around Eliza's fingers, a joyful smile on her face to keep it all to herself. "Thanks, Clementine."

Carl walked over, holding a long stick proudly and waving it back and forth. But once he got close enough to the two girls, his eyes fell upon an area behind them, just around a bush. His eyes bulged in fear, making Eliza quickly turn to look. The girl let out an ear-screeching scream that instantly made Clementine shut her eyes and cover her ears.

The terrified children bolted and Jacqui didn't have a second to count the heads of the children that reached her when she was more focused on gathering the ones in front of her close together. She didn't realize one child was missing, specifically, Clementine.

Clementine's cobalt eyes wrenched themselves open when the screaming had stopped ⎯⎯ or at least gotten quieter. What was growing louder, however, was something that resembled the sickening slap of her school's cafeteria food hitting her plate. From right behind her.

A walker, as Rick Grimes called them, was behind her and as she finally turned around to see, the sight was more shocking than she had imagined.

It sat on its knees, hands deep in the ripped-open neck of a poor deer. The screaming of children did little to distract the thing from continuing its feast on the flesh, organs, tendons, and cartilage ⎯⎯ making it only raise its head for a moment to look around.

Blood covered the bottom half of its face, and two long deep cuts stretched from the hairline to its top lip ⎯⎯ a subtle sign of how brutally the used-to-be-man died, possibly to Wolverine judging by the look of the cuts across his face.

Glazed yellow eyes looked at her unblinking, the sight of a living being within arms reach immediately taking priority over the killed deer.

Thousands of conversations about stranger danger spur to mind ⎯⎯ but no amount of fear for her life motivated her legs to move, she was stuck. It growled a horrific noise from the bottom of its throat, a gurgled roar, most likely not even having swallowed all the deer flesh it had just shoveled into its mouth.

There were very few occasions where Clementine fell completely silent with not a word to say. But she was living one of those moments, losing all ability to form any words as it approached her, mouth obnoxiously chomping strings of red flesh from top to bottom jaw.

Its eyes widened further, the natural hues of its eyes muted and sickly discolored, and it reached out, fingertips not even inches away from her skin.

A long metal pole swung straight into the face of the walker, knocking it back off its feet, and flat on the dirt next to the deer. Many familiar faces came flooding in around her, the one holding the metal pole was Rick Grimes. And he was determined for the girl to be untouched by the damn thing.

Clementine gasped as every single one of the men suddenly in her immediate vicinity started beating the crap out of the walker on the ground. She lost track of who was doing what, all she knew was Shane, Rick, Morales, Glenn, Dale, and her father were all completely focused on killing the walker.

All of them slammed their different weapons into the back, sides, and legs, and finally, Dale swung his axe down on the neck. The head rolled to Clementine's feet, face up and eyes again looking at her unblinking.

Horrifying, would be an understatement. She'd never felt so close to projectile vomiting in her entire life ⎯⎯ and she was incredibly close to doing so onto the decapitated skull. It bubbled up in her throat, burning her esophagus.

"That's the first one we've had up here," Dale announced with a worn-out breath of air. "They never come this far up the mountain."

"Well they're runnin' out of food in the city, that's what." Jim chimed in monotonously, clearly stuck in thought.

Leaves crunch from the left, immediately forcing all of the men's attention to the area, holding their weapons tighter in their grasp. The shrubbery moved before none other than Daryl Dixon stepped out.

He took a surprised step back when there were suddenly six armed men facing him, but he quickly recovered, stepping into the clearing. "That's my deer!" Daryl exclaimed annoyed when he realized what they were surrounding.

Just then Clementine noticed the many arrows embedded into the deer's side. Now that she thought about it, she knew they were Daryl's by the red and yellow on the ends ⎯⎯ she'd seen him cleaning those damn things dozens of times.

Daryl rounded the headless walker, "Look at it... All gnawed on by this ⎯⎯ filthy, disease-bearing, motherless, poxy bastard!" He started slamming the toe of his shoe repetitively into the side of the body.

Every single kick into the limp body had Clementine flinching, a part of her expecting the being to stand back up, head attached or not, and come after her once more. She wouldn't be surprised if it was possible after everything she'd heard.

Dale saw the girl's reaction, instantly sympathizing with her fear and trying to de-escalate the situation. "Calm down, son. That's not helpin'."

"What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to ⎯⎯ on Golden Pond?" Daryl huffed angrily, looking down at the deer disappointed. "I've been trackin' this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp... Cook us up some venison." He took his arrows out one by one, gathering them all in his fist and tucking them in hooking them back on his crossbow. "What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed-up part right here?"

A look of disgust reflected off Clementine's face at the sound of it as Daryl yanked out his knife and waved it around encircling the ripped-open neck. "That's a lot more than just chewed on..." She mumbled, the bile rising in her throat once more.

With his shotgun resting across his shoulders, and his arms hooked over it, Shane shook his head ⎯⎯ denying the idea before it could form any further in Daryl's mind as a possibility. "I would not risk that." He muttered, glancing at Clementine knowingly, agreeing with her comment, and she silently thanked the frog murderer. Mushrooms sounded awfully more appealing all of a sudden, at least more than the deer that was already being eaten...

"That's a damn shame... I got some squirrel ⎯⎯ 'bout a dozen or so. That'll have to do.

A sickly chomp came from Clementine's feet ⎯⎯ or at least what sat right in front of her feet ⎯⎯ and she had almost forgotten the decapitated head was there. It stirred back to life, eyes open and jaw popping open and closed.

"Come on, people. What the hell?" Daryl questioned, eyes landing on Clementine like he hadn't seen her once in the past twenty seconds. "Step back, girl."

She quickly obliged, feet fumbling a few steps back as Rick took a step forward, grabbing her arm gently and ushering her behind him.

Clementine scrunched her eyebrows, not quite liking him grabbing her, but also relieved she was now multiple steps away from the "filthy, disease-bearing, motherless, poxy bastard" as Daryl so enthusiastically said.

Adorned with a crossbow, Daryl gripped it in both hands and pointed it at the now lively head, sending an arrow straight through one of the murky yellow eyes. "It's gotta be the brain." He tsked annoyed, his voice raspy as he spoke. "Don't y'all know nothin'?"

Rick turned to face Clementine, placing his hand on her shoulder and looking at her with furrowed brows. "Are you alright?" He asked fatherly, and Clementine couldn't help but look past him at her father.

A part of her wondered why he wasn't the one coming to her side, ensuring her safety, and comforting her after the sight she'd just seen. It hurt more than it should to be checked up on. To be asked if she was okay when she hadn't been asked so in such a long time.

"It touch you, sweetheart?"

"No..." She mumbled back, peeling her eyes away from Jim and instead looking back to the corpse. Damn, was it a sight to see. Most definitely something she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon, but she was still stuck preparing herself that it would get back up.

With an answer, Rick turned his attention back to Daryl, the brother of the man he left behind just yesterday, and Clementine didn't blame him for immediately worrying about that.

All the people once surrounding the deer followed after Daryl in unison, hearing him call out for Merle, understandably oblivious to his brother being nowhere within hearing distance.

They left all behind the two carcasses in the middle of the woods ⎯⎯ as if it was the most normal thing to exist just a few steps away from their camp. Clementine couldn't pull herself away. All of them went back to camp, assuming she'd be close behind, because what child would want to stand and stare at the thing that almost killed them?

But she had to look at it. She had to know for sure it wasn't going to come back. Daryl said it had to be the head, did that mean it wouldn't come back now that he shot the arrow into its eye? Did that count? Like a damn video game without any hints.

She didn't feel opposed to the idea of sinking into the dirt and being swallowed whole and never being seen again.

It was easy to just stay there alone, but a loud yell caught her attention, shouting, "You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof... And you LEFT HIM THERE?" Bellowed the returned Dixon brother. According to the reaction, the news had been broken to him.

Clementine rushed through the trees, following the sounds of yelling until she broke through and walked around Shane's car. Her father leaned against the side of it, staying out of the situation and the line of fire.

But Clementine wanted to see, she stepped in front of the vehicle, but at the same time Rick, who was standing in front of her ducked quickly. Before she knew it a bunch of squirrels gruesomely tied to twine was thrown towards her, landing at her feet. One squirrel even landed on her shoe.

Quickly, she shook her foot knocking the deceased creature off the toe of her shoe, and grimaced taking a step back toward Glenn. "Jeez..." She croaked to herself, wondering why on earth she kept being put into a situation where something dead was landing at her feet ⎯⎯ as if she were a magnet for the sour sight.

"Watch the knife!" T-Dog warned from a distance, dropping an armful of collected logs. He hadn't even known Daryl was back until it was too late.

Daryl unsheathed his knife, looking at Rick with a deadly gaze. But both cops get a grip on him before he could do anything, pulling him to the ground with Shane's arm firmly hooked under Daryl's chin. "You'd best let me go!"

"Nah, I think it's better if we don't."

"Choke hold's illegal," Daryl huffed, his face turning red with rage.

"You can file a complaint."

Clementine shook her head in disbelief, the whole altercation being one hell of a sight. "What a shit show."

The comment was mainly for herself, not expecting so many people to turn on their axis and look at her puzzled. As if they'd never heard a child voice their opinion before ⎯⎯ and that only made Clementine want to make herself clear even more.

She mirrored their confused looks, directing it back at them with more intensity. "What? You're tellin' me this isn't?" Clem questioned, wholeheartedly not understanding why they were looking at her like she was the crazy one. Daryl just about sliced Rick or Shane but she's the psychotic one. Waving her hands, motioning towards the self-proclaimed tracker and the two cops. "I don't think there's any other word for this ⎯⎯" She paused, exasperated. "Yeah, definitely a complete shitshow."

• ───────────────── •

For a reason Clementine couldn't begin to fathom, Rick and many others left for Atlanta. The goal, find the shithead they rightfully left behind, to begin with. The very man she would happily go the rest of her life never speaking about, talking to, or even looking at. But there they went, Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and of course, T-Dog.

It was clear T-Dog had one hell of a guilty conscience and he was ready to do anything to make it right ⎯⎯ even risk his life to save the bastard that definitely put that bruise on his face.

But Clementine couldn't think about any of that for long, because she was finally back in the quarry. The dirty laundry was piling up after all the people came back from Atlanta and immediately wanted to change, so one of the day's goals was to get all of it washed. The only place to do so was in the quarry.

On the other hand, Jim didn't seem to be in the state of mind to deny Clementine's wishes to go along with them anyway. Plus, Shane ⎯⎯ the one who insisted she not go ⎯⎯ was down in the quarry as well with Carl, trying to catch frogs.

Clementine watched the two of them with their bucket and net angrily. Mostly at Shane ⎯⎯ Carl just wanted to have fun and wasn't particularly excited about the actual eating part of catching said frogs.

It also wasn't the main thing at the forefront of her mind either, what truly mattered was finding the rock she left down there a few days ago.

She couldn't even remember how many days it had been, her mind was trying to hold onto the information of where she dropped it. How many steps did she take to get to the steep incline? Was she far away from the water's edge? Too many questions with slim answers.

A long process ensued of her picking up rocks, dropping them, looking some more, and repeating.

The women doing the laundry sat on overturned soda crates and buckets, washing clothes in buckets and tubs between their legs, and all of them used a diverse set of tools to scrub at the pieces of clothing. Others took trips back and forth from Carol's Jeep Cherokee for more tubs or baskets of dirty clothes they piled in the trunk and back seat.

It was a calm chore they all took part in, sitting and chatting casually, some of them zoning out as they spoke, watching Clementine search through the rocks with determination.

At least it was calm as long as Ed Peletier stayed by the car. He of course came down, never allowing his wife to be out of his line of sight, puffin' on cigarette after cigarette.

The smell gave Clementine an instant headache, so she steered clear of him as often as she could ⎯⎯ he was also a piece of shit ⎯⎯ so she had no kindness in her heart for him.

Loud excited splashing and yelling come from the two boys on the left side of the quarry, near the narrow path. "They're coming, little man! Get 'em! Get that net in there and get 'em!" Shane shouted, waving his arms, and pushing the water toward the giggling boy holding his net.

Clementine rolled her eyes, turning away and walking around the water's edge, nearing the group of women. "I'm beginning to question the division of labor here," Jacqui spoke to Andrea, carrying a plastic tub full of clothing towards Amy and Carol who sat by the water.

"You could say that again," Clementine agreed, crossing her arms and plopping down on the rocks with her knees to her chest. "More preoccupied with the killing of the innocent salientian population." She sighed, digging her shoe into the mucky dirt just under the thin layer of rocks.

"The what?" Amy asked, having absolutely no idea what Clementine had just said or meant.

"Frogs..."

Amy cracked a smile, finding joy in the little girl's personality. "You're very right, Clem. Cruel behavior." She raised her eyebrows dramatically, most likely not fully agreeing with the girl, but Clementine was happy to have someone on her side anyway.

"Can someone explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?" Jacqui asked, ringing water out of a piece of cloth. Clementine nodded in agreement, despite not knowing who on earth Hattie McDaniel was, but felt fairly confident that Jacqui would be the one to know all the right things to say.

"The world ended." Amy sighed. "Didn't you get the memo?"

Carol glanced sideways over her shoulder at her shithead of a husband, squinting from the sunlight before turning back to her work. "It's just the way it is..."

It was wrong. To Clementine at least, it was very wrong. No job belonged to one gender, age, or personality. Everyone knew how to wash clothes, and she could say that confidently as someone who had never done it. "That's bullshit." Clementine cursed, once again not caring to think about the reaction of a child having such a sharp tongue. She knew deep in her gut that Ed mistreated his wife, and possibly Sophia too. It turned her insides like a sharp spear was embedded in her chest and mixing all her organs, bones, tendons, and veins up. At the end of it, all of it would be rearranged for maximum discomfort.

Clementine stood up and took a few steps away, sensing the tension caused by her opinionated words ⎯⎯ and found it would be best if she took herself out of the discussion before she ruffled any more feathers.

A particularly futile excursion of searching for her stone once more. While searching conversations resume in the group of women. Nothing sounded particularly attention-grabbing, so Clementine disregarded the comments about phones and something called a vibrator.

She didn't know what it was, nor did she care when she was more determined to find her rock ⎯⎯ until all of them released strings of loud laughter. The uproar had her interested, but when she turned to look the first thing to fall in her line of sight was no one else but the walking piece of shit himself. He invaded the joyous circle of women like a tumor growing in size rapidly, pushing the organs aside and causing a weight of discomfort.

"What's so funny?" He intruded, squinting at the four women with a gradually burning-out cigarette pressed between the fingertips of his thumb and pointer finger. Most of his attention was stuck on Carol ⎯⎯ who was laughing with them until he made his presence known.

Andrea did her best to keep the mood uplifted when everyone else averted their gaze. "Just swappin' war stories, Ed."

The youngest of the women, Amy, especially avoided looking over, even more so than Carol who kept looking over at her husband with a flat-worrisome look.

Clem physically bit down on her tongue, hearing her father's repetitive lectures about, in the most simple of words, keeping her mouth shut. It was the fight of her life, watching the man waddle over cockily, taking a drag from his cigarette and standing awkwardly close to the bunch of hard-working women.

"Problem, Ed?" Andrea asked, having lost her own patience with the man.

"Nothin' that concerns you." He tapped off his cigarette nonchalantly, dropping flakes of ash onto the rocks below. "And you out-a focus on your work. This ain't no comedy club."

It didn't last long, Clementine biting her tongue ⎯⎯ no obviously it wouldn't. She took two large steps forward. "That's good, considering you'd be the world's worst contender." Clem spit angrily, glaring at the grown man as if she was the one looking down on him. Not vice versa.

A long time ago she mastered how to not be afraid of people like Ed ⎯⎯ or at least not to show it. He was the kind of man who only lived to shove his finger in people's faces and say he knew all that was right. A person who would take pleasure in having the ability to look down on a child, like Clementine.

Ed turned to look at Clementine with a blazing glare, wetting his lips in thought before speaking any of it out loud ⎯⎯ that being the only logical thing he'd ever do. "Listen up little girl⎯⎯"

"Absolutely, not." She interrupted, not caring for him to even finish his sentence before she continued on ridiculing him. "Only thing coming out of your mouth that I'll listen to, is an apology." It was a surprise how long he stayed silent as she spoke, almost surprising enough to applaud him for shutting his mouth. "For wasting the time of every single person you've spoken a word to during your too-long of a life." Quipped the girl, holding a soft tone despite every word she said being part of an insult against his very existence.

Andrea had enough, perhaps of letting a child be the one to speak up to him or just Ed's unwanted attendance in general. Either way, she took the man's attention as she stood, squeezing a wet cloth in her hand. "Ed... Tell you what ⎯⎯ you don't like how your laundry is done... You are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here." Andrea tossed the wet bundle of cloth, only for Ed to snatch it out of the air and send it flying back at her at a much higher speed.

"Ain't my job, missy."

It was clear that even without using actual insulting names, he was attempting to talk down on Andrea and Clementine with his little girl and missy.

Behind Andrea, Amy reached for her sister, silently asking her not to egg on the man any further. They'd all seen the damage he could do to Carol who didn't fight back, and Amy didn't want any of that inflicted upon her sister. But Andrea ignored her.

"And what is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass smoking cigarettes?"

"Well, it sure as hell ain't listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch or a should-a-been abortion... Tell you what." He waved his now-dead cigarette between Andrea and Clementine.

Clem took another step forward, not even within five feet of him. "The only thing down here that should've been an abortion is your good-for-nothing excrement." She shouted, pointing her finger at him.

"Come on! Let's go."

It didn't matter much that Clementine wasn't backing down, because the guy had Andrea standing just below his eye level, not done yelling at him. "I don't think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed."

"And I say it's none of your business. Come on now. You heard me."

Carol's eyes were filled with tears as all the women went to her side ⎯⎯ trying their damnest to fight her war for her. Mainly Andrea held Carol up, placing her hand gently on Carol's hand, only getting an, "Andrea, please. It doesn't matter."

It did matter ⎯⎯ at least it did to all the other people involved in the altercation, and Clementine desperately wanted to tell Carol so. "Carol-"

"Hey, don't think I won't knock you on your ass just 'cause you're some college-educated cooze, all right?" Gasps rang all around the group, and even Carol's jaw fell open in shock. Clementine had absolutely no idea what it meant but could tell it wasn't anything good if it came from him or elicited that kind of reaction. "Now you come on now or you're gonna regret it later."

"So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed? Yeah we've seen them," Jacqui spoke, furthest away from him out of all of them ⎯⎯ but letting her opinion be known nonetheless. She sounded close to tears saying it, most likely having thought about Carol's mistreatment for a very long time ⎯⎯ and what she'd say to the man about it.

Clementine tilted her chin up, making everyone see she was proud of whatever she had to say. "I really hope you know, Ed, that your mother would be so ashamed at how her son turned out. A wife-beater and a misogynistic prick ⎯⎯ what a combo."

"Stay out of this." He grumbled, his eyes widening the longer he held back on his abusive tendencies ⎯⎯ pointing his finger sharply at the little girl ⎯⎯ her words definitely did something to him, but not nearly enough. "Now come on! You know what? This ain't none of y'all's business. You don't want to keep prodding the bull here, okay?"

An audible scoff exited Clem's open lips, humoring his arrogant stupidity. "A bull? You're a wanna-be show pony that didn't get the love he so desperately wanted as a baby because even then you were hated by everyone."

"I am done talking. COME ON." His hand once adorning a cigarette grabbed onto his wife's bicep with a ferocious grasp, the aggression causing even his wife who had gotten up to leave with him ⎯⎯ trying to back away from him.

Before Clementine knew it, Ed swung the palm of his hand straight into the side of Carol's face, sending her into Amy's arms as she recoiled away from him.

All women, clamored with rage, pushing at Ed or yelling in shock at him. Clementine had to take a step back, she was at least half the height of them, and would most likely get crushed in the chaos.

Plus, she was shocked. It was an apparent thing and widely known by most in the camp that Ed was doing something to Carol to inflict bruises, scratches, or red marks on her limbs ⎯⎯ but despite feeling prepared ⎯⎯ Clementine hadn't expected to actually see him let out that aggression on his wife in front of everyone.

But before the women could go to war for Carol as they intended, Shane marched up ⎯⎯ almost out of thin air. He grabbed Ed by his collar and the sleeve of his button-up shirt, dragging him ten some feet away before dropping him into the wet muddy rocks.

The cop laid punch after punch straight into Ed's face, pulling loud groans of pain from his useless mouth that was just spurring bullshit. Carol cried at the sight, seeing only her husband being abused and not her abuser getting what he deserved.

Clem wasn't one for violence, but this... This was something she felt one thousand percent content with allowing to happen ⎯⎯ not that she had much say in stopping Shane.

It may be cruel of her, but watched. She flinched at every hit but felt no worry or fear for even a second. If she could have ⎯⎯ she would've done it herself. Beat him senseless until he was aware of all the pain he caused, or even better, a blubbering mess begging for it to stop. Clem imagined Carol had done so countless times, so it was only fair if he got the same treatment.

Ed flailed his legs and garbled responses to Shane's just as incoherent words. The heels of his shoes dug into the dirty rocks, kicking pebbles and stones every which way with no order or thought.

One pebble skid to her feet making her look down, but at the same time, a different rock went toppling in a direction from Ed's rapid kicks.

Heart-shaped and white line.

It was the one and only rock Clementine had been putting ours of thought into. The very rock that brought a song straight into her mind, a significant beat in her heart, and a specific voice singing it.

Her mother and a song ⎯⎯ about a little girl named Clementine.

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〈〈 𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒 𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 〉〉

﹀

The rewrite of my "Pickerel" chapter is VASTLY different than the original.

First, changed the title to a much funnier option and not only is it almost a whole 4 THOUSAND words more than the original, but also an entire scene now exists that I didn't write before. At the time I felt like Clementine wouldn't have much thought about the situation, BUT WHAT? Clementine having no thoughts on a situation??? What kind of joke is that? My girl will always have something to say.

Anyway, I'm really proud of this chapter because Clementine's personality is captured WAY better than it was originally.

Thoughts?

Fanfic Editing Account: thinn.skinned.wp

Editing Account: rheeedit