A.N.: In this universe, if there are 309,349,689 people in the US and the ratio of humans = walkers is 1 = 5,000, that means (pardon my overly simplistic maths) there are about 61,870 humans to 309,287,819 walkers. What's the phrase – May the odds be ever in your favour!

I thought I wasn't ready to emotionally commit to our favourite survivors again – turns out, I am! After a big break from TWD I am currently in the middle of season five – I'm trying to figure out how I can rejig canon and write my own stuff to make the story my own, unexpected etc.

I love that Rick and Daryl have become brothers, it feels healthier and more genuine than Rick's friendship with Shane, which has deep issues even before Shane killed Otis; if they're brothers, Carol's kind of their slightly crazy aunt; Maggie and Glenn are the younger siblings; Michonne's the awesome stepmother; I want to be able to show that Rick and Collis' relationship becomes a strong brother-sister bond on a par with his bond with Daryl, it's not romantic but deeply respectful.

I'm trying to figure out just how gruesome Negan's death will be.

Final note: I was inspired to go back to this story again by the song 'Warrior Daughter' by Wildwood Kin, who I had the pleasure of seeing live in Oxford last weekend. Brilliant, check out their EP.

Our Deepest Fear

06

The Road Ahead

She finally sat down well after dusk. The camp had been dismantled as much as it could be, the supplies belonging to the dead organised, anything unnecessary – and there was a lot of that kind of stuff; it was amazing what people packed for an apocalypse – left in one of the cars they knew from its previous owner was unreliable. She was dizzy with exhaustion, her head thumping as if someone was taking a jackhammer to the inside of her skull, but she kept going, just like they all did. They had lost over two-thirds their number. Too many; but they had gained Freya, and Noelle.

Whether the others thought she had brought back a greater burden, a small child and a stranger, they didn't say anything; they were too busy. Even Shane was too tired to antagonise.

Freya and Noelle were her responsibility. She had brought them in, to witness the worst tragedy they had suffered so far. Whatever safety Freya had thought she'd have with the tough G.I. Jane they'd watch saunter around the city without turning a hair at the walkers, she didn't show any signs of regretting her decision; as for Noelle, she was sweet, ceaselessly cheerful and obliging. She asked Collis if she could help, and tirelessly trudged back and forth to the quarry bringing a little bucket of water back each time, usually pouring it over Collis' or Daryl's heads to keep them cool. She giggled when she upturned the bucket each time, and Collis ignored the looks Lori gave her, like she couldn't believe Collis let a child down to the quarry by herself, or let her around the walkers Daryl was seeing to with his pick-axe. But she was more curious than squeamish, and Collis saw the necessity in getting Noelle used to their new reality as quickly as possible – if she had any shot of survival.

However Noelle and Freya were both processing the massacre, it wasn't the best introduction to the revered leadership of Sheriff Shane. It was still raw in her chest, the rage she felt toward Shane – a fish fry. Knowing they were undermanned and in greater danger, they had decided to pull the watchman from his post. The slaughter had triggered memories she had had to slam her steel-reinforced mental door against, or she'd be lost. How many times… How many times had she picked up her friends, blown into parts? She slammed that door shut, flinching as she gripped her throbbing head. It did nobody any good to have to take care of her if she let it all wash over her; the last thing they needed was a Marine going through an episode of PTSD. She had dealt with this and worse. She had brought those two girls in and for them she had to hold it together; she wouldn't ask anyone else to take responsibility for her actions. Narcissist that he was, Shane was blaming everyone but himself. Dale was sombre and regretful, blaming himself as he trudged around camp with his hunting-rifle over his shoulder, and the others were in varying degrees of shock.

Once the last body had been laid low, they had regrouped for supper, and she thought her spring squirrel stew was a welcome change to Daryl's 'recipe'. They had plied Freya with her first hot meal in weeks, telling her story. The campus, the 'cops' who took by force what they wanted – guns, food, people – and her pacifier. Those who had been angry at the boys for leaving camp – Andrea, Lori – had been forced to simmer down at the revelation that Rick had given some of his guns to a group of street-thugs who alone had stayed in Atlanta protecting the abandoned residents of a care-home, led by the custodian after every other staff-member had fled. They had fortified the home, allowing the elderly residents there the dignity of a gentle end free from terror.

It was incredibly humbling; Collis wished she might have seen it.

Especially the nasty man-eating sons of bitch dogs that had been set loose on Glenn! That made her lips twitch, imagining the reactions of Rick, Daryl and T-Dog when they finally found Glenn in the hall surrounded by the elderly, led through a street-gang armed to the teeth by a half-cracked Hispanic woman who'd thought Rick had come to arrest her grandson. Sweet.

Collis had sat listening to everything, watching Sophia read a Harry Potter book quietly to the other kids, thinking on how one of the characters had once said 'The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters', but… This new, harsh world was going to be carved out by those who would do anything to survive. Ruthless, unconscientious, brutal. Selfish. In the equation for survival, there was no room for sentiment. And yet kindness, humour, compassion, selflessness, were what separated them from animals.

With Noelle fast asleep, snoring lightly as she cuddled up with Freya on the sleeping-bag they had unzipped, too hot to sleep under covers, she sat on her little cot with her head throbbing in her hands, needing desperately to sleep. None of them had for days, and she was used to it, but… The heat. The humidity so heavy she could feel it sitting on her lungs, the exertion the last day and before that in Atlanta… It had caught up to her. She just wanted to sleep – and go to sleep not worrying she had to do so with one eye open, ears straining for the tiniest sound in case the watchman fell into a doze while they sat up on Dale's RV with the hunting-rifle. There were fewer of them, now – that meant provisions didn't have to stretch as far but it also meant the rotation for the watch would be strained.

"Uh… Collis?" a familiar voice said hesitantly, and she recognised it instantly as Dale. She gave an answering groan as she leaned to unzip the tent-flap, wobbling and finally sinking off the cot onto the ground. On her knees, head pounding, she unzipped the tent, Dale's anxious face peering down at her. He probably didn't recognise her without her cap and sunglasses on – she was a natural redhead and before she left the tent each morning she donned both, relying on covering up rather than wasting sunscreen Lori and Carol tried to keep the kids slathered in.

"What d'you need, Dale?" she asked quietly, wincing as she raised a hand to her head.

"I – are you alright?" Dale asked quietly, concern in his voice. She smiled, and it was pained.

"Just a headache," she said softly. "It'll pass. What d'you need?"

"It can wait, you get some rest," Dale said, frowning concernedly at her. "You've had a rough few days."

"I'll be up for the early watch," she promised, and Dale nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile, and trudged off. She squashed a wave of nausea as her head throbbed, and dropped back onto her cot.

The cool air woke her, whispering through the open flap of her tent, like a caress, chilling the sweat hot and cloying on her skin. She pulled on her denims, checked her guns, strapped all her knives, her tomahawk and hatchet on and laced up her boots with double knots. Noelle snuffled in her sleep, starfished across the unzipped sleeping-bag; Freya was curled up on her side at the edge, her bare feet covered with her sweatshirt, a knife held loosely in her palm. Collis quirked an eyebrow at it but didn't take the knife from her; they all slept lightly nowadays.

It was still dark when she poked her head out of the tent, and a fine mist of dew glistened in the moonlight on the tents; it would disappear by dawn, it always did. By the heavy, silvered light, the embers of the fire, and the deep male snores, she knew it was still a couple hours 'til dawn. It was strange, standing in the moonlit camp, shrunken in size, the funeral pyre of walkers still simmering with golden glowing ash off to the side. The feel of the place had changed; even the cicadas seemed more solemn.

"Mornin'," a quiet voice rumbled as she stretched, working out the kinks, enjoying the deep breath of the pre-dawn, the gentle, cool calm before the breaking of day and the blistering sun rose, and she glanced to the side; Daryl sat in the bed of his truck where he slept under a rigged tarp, knee cocked, crossbow trained on the treeline.

"You had watch?"

"Naw. Couldn't sleep," he said softly. "T-Dog's up on the perch." Collis nodded. "You doin' your chores?" She smiled softly.

"Yeah."

"You and them plants – you could at least be growin' mushrooms," he grinned lazily. They often had arguments about the best mushrooms for fall stews. Collis chuckled softly. "Or weed."

"With the good Sheriff in town?" she smiled, and Daryl climbed off the truck-bed, slinging his crossbow over his back.

"Might make Shane chill some," he shrugged, eyeing Shane's single-man tent. He had moved it across the camp from Lori and Carl's family-size one, now occupied by her husband too.

"Doubt much would," she said thoughtfully. She handed Daryl one of the buckets. "Here. Let's take a walk. I miss anything last night?"

"Just the others arguin'. What comes next," Daryl said, striding along beside her down to the quarry. "Shane's all for Fort Benning. Rick wants to head to the CDC. Find answers. If there are any."

"What do you wanna do?"

"Makes no difference to me," Daryl shrugged.

"Is that why Dale came to my tent last night?"

"Guess so. Came to me, made a case for the CDC."

"He's backin' Rick?" She wasn't really surprised; Dale and Shane got along about as well and she and Shane did.

"Guess he sees Rick's got his head on right," Daryl murmured. "Push comes to shove – I saw who Rick is, back in Atlanta. It's been you, me and the Chinaman keeping these people goin', huntin', scavenging the city. Shane wouldn't piss on you if you was dyin' of thirst."

"Especially not if Lori or Carl needed a drink," Collis agreed grimly. Daryl grunted softly, and they dunked the buckets into the quarry, the water mirror-still but for the gentle breeze. This time of the day was her favourite; it was so quiet, if she closed her eyes she could imagine being home, on her mountain, on a hunt with Daddy, or shooting the shit with Teardrop on the porch on a crisp winter's night with a cup of shitty instant coffee, sharing a cigarette. She glanced at Daryl as he stooped to fill his bucket. "Hey… I'm sorry about Merle – I mean, I'm sorry he left you." Merle had escaped the department store, had stolen the guys' truck; but he hadn't so far made an entrance at the camp. Daryl had been expecting him to; he knew Merle Dixon would do whatever he had to, to survive. But he hadn't come back to his brother, the one person in the world who would do anything for him. Their relationship was complicated, and Collis recognised it. Merle made her think of Teardrop, and Daddy, and Thump, and she had hated that. She was glad he hadn't come back to camp. Daryl glanced at her, his hooded eyes concealing his emotions, but he chewed his lip and nodded, and she saw it in the moonlight.

"He's tough," Daryl murmured. "He'll survive."

"Yeah. Guys like him always do," Collis said softly; and she knew, because she was from a family of them. "You know, I grew up in the Ozarks – real old mountain folk. The mountain was the law, y'know? Tough bastards who shit out hand-grenades, and that was just the women… But everybody was always frightened of my Uncle Teardrop. And 'cause of him, they learned to mind me, too… People like us – we survive on pure tenacity."

Daryl glanced up the hill to the camp. "And them?"

"I guess they'll learn, or they'll die, right?" she said softly. Daryl sighed heavily, and they traipsed up the hill. The two of them were cut from the same cloth; and while Collis could hunt as well as he could, her mama had always kept a vegetable-garden. The others had laughed at her, at first, but let her teach the kids to turn plastic tubs and empty milk jugs with holes in them and trash-bags and closet shoe-organisers into planters, sowing seeds for carrots, different kinds of herbs, beans, blueberries, sweet-potatoes, beets, quinoa, bell-peppers, blackberries, chard, butternut-squash, spinach – now, they were overflowing with zucchinis, and poached rhubarb was a treat on top of their oatmeal in the mornings. She was proud of her tomatoes, was glad they had survived the onslaught of walkers. But then, the dead hadn't come back for her veggies.

"Good thing this wasn't ruined," Daryl said, as he carefully helped water all her plants. The dusty black trash-bags started to glisten as he watered the potatoes. "These'll keep us alive come winter."

"Have you ever eaten a vegetable in your life, Daryl?" she teased.

"Ate some berries, when I was lost in the woods when I was a kid," Daryl shrugged, grinning. "Wouldn't know the first thing 'bout growin' 'em though."

"Could barely afford Crisco when I was growin' up. We kept chickens, sold honey, mushrooms, saved seeds. Mama always had a vegetable-garden. When she…slipped away, I kept it up. That and the squirrels, deer meat from Teardrop…kept us goin'," Collis said. "There was always somethin'…calm about it. It was…hope. Waitin', nurturing, knowin' no matter how bleak things were, there was always somethin' coming that would…save us… When I saw the primroses, I knew it was time to start sewin' seeds." She sighed, emptying the bucket, caught Daryl's eye and hid a blush. Everyone else had shared their stories over the campfire each night; but she didn't like to. Only Daryl could appreciate her upbringing; and he wouldn't look down on her for it. The others belonged to a different world, the one she only saw on television, the one she had only ever dreamed of. Her stories were the stuff of their nightmares. "Guess this was my normal for too long; I've slipped back into it so easy. You and me – we're the ones gon' keep everybody alive."

"And Rick."

"And Rick, too, I guess," Collis agreed, shrugging. A strong man with a rigid but not unmoving code was of more value to them than belligerent survivalist-types like Shane. And she was ashamed to think it but she was too much of a realist not to appreciate that the women and their soft kids would be the first to hobble them. Daryl frowned at her, seeing more than people thought.

"'Sup?" he murmured, jerking his head toward the quarry, and she swung her bucket as she traipsed down to the water with him. It was early but there was no telling who was lying awake in their tent, and in close quarters with tensions rising like this it was best not to provoke unnecessary confrontations.

"I never had anybody carry me, my whole life…guess my patience is runnin' thin… Having a damn fish fry like it's Fourth of July, no watch… Shane talking about having no menfolk to protect the camp… If I'd waited for a man to look after me I'd've died of starvation when I was fourteen years old, my family too."

"Yeah, but, you're a force of nature," Daryl said softly, and Collis felt her cheeks flush, hiding a smile as Daryl caught her eye, glancing away quickly as he blushed. She filled her bucket at the water's edge, finding that blush delicious. "Guess they're gon' learn from your example. Gotta, right? Half our number gone; we've got kids, untrained women. They're all gonna have to step up, is all."

"Yeah," Collis agreed.

"So you're stayin'?"

"Might as well," Collis shrugged. "Know we could do a hell of a lot worse than them."

"Even with Shane?"

"I've got my eye on him," Collis admitted quietly. "One asshole was never enough to send me running. Especially not with kids involved."

"Why'd you bring 'em back, anyway?"

Collis glanced at Daryl, thinking it over. It was only yesterday but it felt like months. Scavenging in the city, the bloodbath back at camp. The others had forgotten what the world had turned into, and they had paid the price for their lack of vigilance. "Guess I respected their resilience," Collis said softly. "Figured they've made it this far, and in the city, too… The irony of bringin' 'em back to camp to find a bloodbath is not lost on me."

"Ain't our fault," Daryl shrugged. "Like you said – they had no watch."

"Yeah."

"Wouldn't've figured Amy was studyin' medicine," Daryl murmured, and Collis chuckled softly as she tended her plants meticulously, ensuring there were no bugs, taking care of them.

"Right? Mermaids and unicorns everywhere in her dorm, and she's got books on slicin' and dicin' people," she said.

"Weird she's so squeamish, and she's studying to be a doctor," Daryl shook his head.

"Well – she'll have to learn," Collis said. "'Specially if she's the only one with at least a little medical training."

"What about you?"

"What I know is just…trial an' error – couldn't ever afford a doctor when I was growin' up," Collis shrugged, and Daryl nodded in mutual understanding. "We were real into our herbal remedies – old-fashioned stuff passed through the generations. Might even show you a wicked scar where I had to cauterise a stab-wound with a knife."

"Where is it?"

"Well, that's why I said might – I know how you blush," Collis said, smirking, and Daryl blushed obligingly, flicking his eyes over her with thinly-veiled curiosity. She smiled to herself; she enjoyed making Daryl blush more than she did anything else, recently, even more than reading. Flirting with Daryl, steadily going through her reading Bucket List, playing with the little ones, she had to find things that brought her joy, no matter how fleeting the moments were, even if it was simply knowing she had brought joy to someone else – she didn't risk her life going to the city because she wanted to; she'd never admit it to anyone but she liked the smiles on people's faces, the beaming grins of appreciation when she showed up with something unexpected. She knew she held their awe, had their respect, as much for getting back from the city alive as for bringing supplies to camp, but what she really liked was those smiles. She had hard-wired herself to fight, to survive, and to provide. A lack of appreciation had broken her heart before; now she knew she was actively seeking it out.

"Stab-wound, huh? Hunting accident?"

"Of sorts," Collis said grimly, and Daryl knew better than to ask for details.

"Good stew yesterday," he said, casually changing the subject.

"Yeah. Be great if we could start breedin' rabbits," Collis said thoughtfully. "I can grow mushrooms no trouble… Pot, too. Rabbit stew with mushrooms, wholegrain mustard and carrots, cooked low an' slow. Mmm."

"Everything come back to food with you?" Daryl murmured, his eyes glinting as he gave her a half-concealed smile.

"That. Sex," Collis shrugged, smiling at the way he startled, and blushed when he caught her eye. "I'm kiddin' – oh, sweet pea! Your blushes are just so damn gorgeous!"

She chuckled to herself, and he narrowed his eyes, digging his fingertips into her side, gently bumping his hip against hers to send her staggering off the path, water sloshing on her leg. He was the only person in camp she felt at ease with, she knew she could be exactly who she was and he wouldn't be at all alarmed. She laughed softly, Daryl smiled in that sweet, reluctant way he had, and they wandered back to the camp. T-Dog acknowledged them from the roof of the RV, and they set the buckets down by the fire, rekindling the ash, getting some water boiled for the morning ahead.

By the time the first tent-flap twitched, tired eyes squinting out into the already-unforgiving sun, the oatmeal was ready to be rationed out for breakfast, Daryl had hunted a decent dozen squirrels for lunch, yesterday's grubby clothes were scrubbed and wrung out on Carol's line, already steaming in the sun, and Collis had separated out her last haul from the city. After everything happened yesterday, she hadn't had time; but she'd mentioned to Andrea about getting lucky on the college campus, and Amy stumbled out of the RV, yawning, to find textbooks neatly stacked on the folding camping-table, a photograph of her family still in its frame, and, on top of a stack of novels, the tiny Little Mermaid snow-globe glittering eye-wateringly in the sunshine.

They had missed her birthday, with all the macabre chores going on, cleaning up the camp. But Collis had found birthday balloons in one of the dorms; Daryl had rolled his eyes but helped her and T-Dog blow up a half-dozen of them. It was important to remember the little things. And Amy's favourite sweater, new hair-ties, a handful of unread novels, made all the difference. It was more than she had ever managed to give Ephraim or Bea, but back in those days she couldn't be so cavalier about taking what she wanted. Amy emerged from the RV, her new mermaid necklace glinting in the sunlight, and her jaw gaped as she saw the balloons, the photograph of her family, the glittering snow-globe, and the two unopened packets of Hostess dark-chocolate raspberry cupcakes with a pink birthday-candle stuck in the top, waiting to be lit so they could all sing.

"Know it's a day late," Collis said, as she and Daryl finished their oatmeal, Noelle staggering half-asleep out of the tent, confused by where she was and the plants brushing her bare arms, but spotting Collis and making a beeline for her with a big grin. "Happy birthday, Amy."

"I… I can't believe this," Amy whispered, and she reached for the photograph of her family, hugging the frame to her chest, her eyes closed, emotion playing so clearly across her features. She beamed at Collis. "Thank you… Thank you."

"It's no trouble," Collis said softly, smiling hesitantly as Noelle reached her, latching on to her hand and yawning widely. They had gained extra weapons and the creative mechanic Freya out of her stop at the campus; she'd say that was a win. They had to take every win they could, no matter how small. And cupcakes on your birthday in the middle of an apocalypse; that was a big one.

They had to keep reminding themselves who they were.

The debate started after breakfast, as soon as the dishes were washed and Amy's birthday-balloons stashed inside Dale's Winnebago, the sun already hot and firing everyone's blood. The harshest words were traded by Rick and Shane, in the way that spoke of a long history. One wanted to head to the CDC and answers; the other wanted to head one-hundred miles towards Fort Benning.

Collis sat back, and listened, not at all surprised Shane was putting his faith in the idea of weapons over medicine. When a man like him was confronted with a difficult situation, he chose to shoot his way out rather than think. Rick was a thinker; his gun was his last resort. For Shane, guns were the first and only solution to every problem.

The argument went around and around. Collis noticed Daryl kept quiet, just observing the others. She saw Morales exchange looks with his wife, gently holding her hand, a look of understanding passing between them. She thought Jim and T-Dog would go wherever the rest did, they had no other ties; she knew Lori had sort of bonded with Carol, and without Ed in the picture it was just her and Sophia. Rick was a decent man and wouldn't leave them to fend for themselves; Rick was capable and strong, and Carol saw all of that. Collis was sure Carol looked at Rick and saw the father she had always wanted for Sophia. Dale agreed with Rick, that they had more chance of getting to the CDC than Fort Benning – not low on gas and supplies with only a handful of people trained with weapons, trained to survive, vulnerable because of their children, their soft women.

"You went to the city for guns, man," Shane said belligerently. "Half this camp dead on account of you leavin' us undefended."

"You're gonna start on that again?" Rick said, his voice calm and dangerous as the others averted their eyes.

"This camp was your responsibility," Collis said, speaking up quietly from Daryl's truck-bed. "The others died on account of their own stupidity. An' yours." It was harsh but needed saying; they couldn't rely on anything for safety.

"Fort Benning is our only chance–"

"It is not our only option. You only think that because you think superior fire-power solves everything," Collis said coolly. "Katrina hit New Orleans, you remember, everyone headed for the Superdome. They were overrun with refugees. No water, no sanitation, no law. Fights broke out, there was rape, worse – the very worst of human behaviour is triggered by terror and large groups. If Fort Benning is lost we may as well just head back into Atlanta and be done."

"You don't know it's fallen."

"This…this thing, whatever it is, it's just like tuberculosis, like plagues in old times; through close quarters it'll spread like wildfire," Collis said quietly. "It just takes one person to hide they've been bit and all hell breaks loose, things break down from the inside."

"What's your suggestion?" Rick asked, and it was an earnest request, not the way Shane would speak to her – challenging, belligerent, and deaf to her answer.

After talking with Daryl she had thought about what her own position was, on their next move. "The CDC's closest; it wouldn't hurt to take a look, see if there's anything we can do. It's not a refugee centre so fewer people would think to head there. A Government facility, especially that one, they'd have better security than just a Military presence, they needed it before the world ended, in case of terrorist attacks," she said, and Rick nodded slowly. "But if that doesn't play out, I'd suggest heading into the country, to high ground. Find someplace defensible. Winter'll be on us before we realise it; we can't be out in the elements with our asses hangin' out."

Rick nodded, seeing the sense in her thoughts. Collis was nothing if not sensible, and her life had been about keeping a roof over her family's heads and filling their bellies for longer than she could remember, her time in the Marines a reprieve. An escape from real-life, a hard-earned sabbatical – she was back now. Walkers or not, this had always been her life.

"Daryl? What's your take on all this?" Rick asked, and Daryl's hooded eyes lingered on Collis thoughtfully before he spoke. Collis knew he wasn't used to having his honest thoughts asked about.

"Woods always kept me alive 'til now," he shrugged, the crossbow strapped to his back clanking softly. "I wouldn't trust Fort Benning's fared any better'n Atlanta. I say CDC, then like Collis said; find a place to wait out the winter, where we can hunt."

Shane scoffed somewhere, and a tiny frown of irritation appeared between Rick's eyebrows.

"Morales, what about you?"

"We're, uh…we're not going," Morales said, exchanging a look with his wife.

"We have family in Birmingham," Mrs Morales said softly, almost apologetic. "We want to be with our people."

"You're on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back," Shane said, and Collis lifted an eyebrow, exchanging a simmering look with Daryl. She didn't trust Shane to have her back, or anyone's. He'd proven time and again he could not be relied upon. She had known too many men like him. Belligerent, egotistical and dangerous. Morales and his wife and kids might be better off without his presence; they at least had the numbers and a few good people with enough backbone to stand up to him.

"We'll take the chance," Morales said. "I gotta do what's best for my family."

"You sure?" Rick asked; but the look he exchanged with Morales, he knew there was no convincing him, and Rick wouldn't try. His family, his call. It was decided. And there was another ner

"We talked about it," Morales nodded. "We're sure."

"Shane?" Rick said, and his partner nodded, reaching for the gun-bag. "0.357?"

"Yeah." Rick handed Morales a revolver on the flat of his palm, which Morales took with a solemn look, knowing exactly what was being offered, and what it took to give it. Collis had always taught Ephraim and Bea never to ask for what oughta be offered – Rick was the kind of man who would always offer.

Shane straightened up from the gun-bag with a small red cardboard box. "Box is half-full," he said, and Daryl sucked his teeth as the ammo was handed over.

"What makes you think our odds are any better?" Shane asked, in typical Shane fashion.

"That attitude ain't gonna help any," Collis said, quietly enough that Shane heard, and Rick, but no-one else.

Few people had genuine respect for Shane, Collis least of all. And comparing him to his recently-arrived and partner Rick…well, there was no comparison. Rick was sharp, compassionate, a natural leader – and a thinker. Shane was a talker; he had an opinion on everything but rarely acted on anything. He was too cowardly to make the truly hard decisions, the ones that put his own safety at risk. He couldn't be relied on to have their backs; he had already proven that, refusing to send backup to the city the day Rick rode into Atlanta.

Rick had risked his life for strangers; Shane wouldn't put his neck on the line for his friends. That told Collis all she needed to know about what kind of a friend Shane was to them. And the man Rick was in spite of the end of the world.

It wasn't in her nature to trust men to be reliable; but she'd put a sceptical dose of her dwindling faith in Rick Grimes.

A.N.: I've re-watched Winter's Bone with Jennifer Lawrence again, a huge influence on Collis' character and backstory – I've also been influenced by Lagertha on Vikings, she is an amazing character – strong, feminine and ferocious.