Breathing is difficult.

A heavy weight, bearing down mercilessly. Sluggish movement above with silence down below. Scratching began; slow at first and becoming more erratic scraping at the cold earth.

From above, the only sight to behold was a small herd of the dead around an abandoned church. Their motions only as normal as lack of living flesh beneath their noses. They were rocking and swaying with the wind, the air quiet.

The hard ground parts as something nears the surface. Soon, a dirty, bloody human hand forced itself from the confines of the tough dirt.

The gait of the dead freeze and turn as the form erupts from the grave. Clouded eyes searching for a meal. The scent of living human flesh permeates their senses. However, as the form made its way atop the earth, the dead shift and saunter away uninterested in the moving human.

Rays of morning light filters through the limbs of trees that have lost their leaves. The air was crisp and chilly, indicating the changing in seasons. Crunching of grass and dead leaves were heard as the person made their way across the church yard. Their feet drag across the frost-covered gravel ever so slowly as hot trails of tears fall freely to the ground. Memories crashed into her head like the Governor to the gates.

"I get it now."
She had fallen, darkness consuming her instantaneously.

"You ain't never gonna see Maggie again!"
The farm was blurred and she could barely see it. There were people in the distance and her heart was thundering in her chest. Blinking, the farm vanished. There was no way she was going to see it again. Was she dreaming? The pain in her head was fading fast and so was her home.

Next, she was singing in the prison yard, around the fire with her new family.
"Of all the comrades that e'er I've had, they're sorry for my going away"

There was more to it than that. Why was this part the only verse she could recall? Suddenly, the scene was cracking like glass. Beth braced herself, waiting for the moment for it to shatter. It did. Memories flew by her as did several faces she knew. Her father, mother and sister and brother. Her old family, then her new family. The walkers, the deaths. The plague, the people. The children. Everyone she held dear in the bleak world was passing her by.

"I don't cry anymore, Daryl."
She said that once, didn't she? Then why were the tears flowing down her face like a fast-moving stream?
She shook the memories from her mind's eye to try to focus on the then and now. Once bright blue eyes scoured the scene before her. Walkers surrounded the area of where she was located.

How did I get here? Where is here even?

Her internal questions were not answered by the dead who could not speak. She took a few steps toward the crowd, but they paid no heed, drifting away from her. Beth went for her knife, but with horror she found it was missing. Taking a few deep breaths were her only comfort. There was no reason to panic as the dead had no interest in her whatsoever.

Neither did anyone else in her family, the more she thought of it. Had they left her for dead? She clawed her way from her grave to find only death and frost. Hadn't it been summer? When did the autumn creep its way onto the land? More questions without answers crashed into her brain.

Sounds from the church alerted her of a presence. Slowly, the dead that had swarmed the building began to disperse, leaving her with the unknown visitor...

AN:

Thank you to my beta Spitfire47.

Also, The Parting Glass is by The Wailin' Jennys.