Presley awakened to the sound of Zeva's soft growl. She turned her head, seeing the dog perched in the passengers side of the Jeep. Stumbling around the camp was a roamer. Her tattered clothing barely hung onto her skin, making her appear frail and very breakable. Presley noted she'd been a dead one for a while.

Thankfully, she'd packed up their stuff last night so there was no need to get out of the car. Rubbing her eyes groggily, she patted the black dog on the head before starting the Jeep. The roamer turned, jaw dropping as she stumbled towards the window. She pressed herself to the glass of the Sahara, trying to knaw through it to get to the living creatures on the inside. Ignoring the dead, Presley urged the Jeep Sahara out of the camp, leaving the dead in the dust.

She drove in silence. It was days like these she wished that Zeva could at least talk. Sometimes she wondered if she as really just going crazy. Who wouldn't, at this day and age? Shaking her head, she pressed play on a CD. Unfortunately the music selection was limited, due to the fact that Sirius radio no longer existed. She relied on CDs to amuse herself, picking up a new one on random raids.

She hummed along to the song, driving along the unfamiliar road. She knew that there was a small town a ways away from the place that she had set camp. She could only hope that it was actually in this direction. A sign proved her assumption had been correct.

Having grown up in Washington, her knowledge of the Georgia land was limited. She relied on maps, now that GPS didn't exist anymore. While it did take longer, it was just as efficient.

"Lookie here, cupcake." She chirped as she pulled up to the gas station. A few roamers turned and looked at her, bloody drool dripping down from their lips. Taking no time, she stepped out of the Jeep and adjusted the quiver on her back. Three arrows later, Zeva was bounding forward and carefully pulling the arrows from the corpses. The bodies hadn't even had the chance to get close enough to get a good whiff.

They both hesitated in front of the building. Zeva didn't growl, signaling that there at least wasn't anything right on the other side of the door. Knocking an arrow into place, she kicked the door open and shuffled inside, turning and looking over every section. The black dog's head swiveled back and forth, ready to alert her owner.

Most of the stuff was picked over, but a few bags and cans kept her hopeful. She collected until the basket was overflowing, and even then continued picking. She only stopped when Zeva froze, the hair on the back of her neck bristling. Presley stopped, laying down the basket as silently as she possibly could and readied her bow. Silent as the wind, she crept around the corner, ready to fire at the creature that had spooked the both of them.

Only, instead of golden-white eyes, a pair of brown eyes looked up at her. "Don't shoot." He said quickly, putting his hand up in submission. He looked friendly enough. Though, obviously there was some fire to him, otherwise he wouldn't be alive.

"Lay down your knife." Presley ordered quickly, and the Asian hesitantly obeyed. "And all your other weapons."

He hesitated, before pulling out his gun and laying it on the floor beside his knife. "Are you alone?" Zeva continued to growl from beside the girl.

"Yes."

"Do you have a group?" He remained silent. She still insisted in him answering. "Well do you?"

"Yes."

Presley nodded, looking down at the supplies he'd gathered. He had nearly as much as herself. She lowered her bow, but still kept it at hand.

"Good for you." She said, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. She smiled and stuck out a hand, tilting her head to the side. "Names Presley."

He froze, looking at her in terror. "Wait, you're Presley?"

She recoiled instantly, as if he had struck her. Her eyes narrowed. "Does that bother you or..?" She questioned, preparing herself for a verbal or physical attack.

"I was just expecting you to be a lot... Bigger." The boy said finally.

She laughed at that, and her entire body relaxed. It was a beautiful sound, vibrant and clear. "I see... You know that guy I laid out." She beamed mischievously. "Tell me, how's his package doing?"

Glenn flushed, almost angerly. "He's fine." He muttered.

"And you are?"

"Glenn..." He said quietly. "I'll be going now, if that's alright."

"Be my guest. Tell my good friend that I'll be moving on now, so no need to worry 'bout a nut cup."

Glenn flushed again, picking up his basket and shuffling away. After gathering the rest of the supplies she could find, Presley followed, surprised to see that Glenn was still in the parking lot.

"Car problems?" She asked, putting her basket in the back and looking at him. A small smirk was evident. He had been running his hands quite frantically through his hair, and some oil had stained his hands black.

"I suppose you don't know anything about cars, do ya?" He asked, slamming the driver side shut.

"Nope." She shrugged. "But I can give you a ride if you want."

Zeva sat beside where her owner stood, looking at Glenn with round brown eyes, daring him to make an attack.

"Uhh..." He sputtered, looking at the black dog. "I don't think so..."

"Oh come on." Presley said, striding over to the drivers side. "I promise I won't even go all the way to your camp. You can't walk."

Glenn hesitated, and then sighed. "Fine, fine..." He climbed into the passengers side, forcing Zeva into the back. He sat awkwardly, casually resting his hand on the gun lashed to his belt. Presley saw that, of course, but chose to ignore it. She would be even more cautious if she were in his position. Getting a ride from a stranger? She likely would have avoided that situation.

"Turn here." He said quietly.

"Tell me when to stop." She said quietly, keeping the Jeep in the middle of the road. The wind whipped at her mane of hair, and a dark pair of shades rested on her nose. To Glenn she looked like some scene had just popped out of a movie. Full lashes fluttered behind the dark glasses, and though they needed upkeep, her eyebrows were still fairly well kept. Her lips were shiny from a tube of Chapstick, and only a thin layer of grime was evident on her skin. It was as if the apocalypse didn't even exist to her.

"I'd might as well let you drive all the way to camp." He said quietly. "Stopping short of another few minutes doesn't stop you from finding us."

She smiled. "Looks like you are smart, Glenn." The boy said nothing to that.

"Slow down." He said suddenly, and Presley automatically lifted her foot off the gas. "They'll freak if you come speeding in there."

"So have you been alone this entire time?" He asked to fill the silence.

"I've never been alone." She pointed out Zeva by turning her head in the direction of the dog hanging herself out the window. "I've tried to pair up with humans, but they die sooner or later. So now I choose to stay alone. The things proved to be more trouble than they were worth, anyways."

"That sucks." Glenn said. "I've always been with a group."

"A group can be a smart or dumb choice." She noted. Glenn frowned at that, but said nothing.

As she continued slowly down the road, she noticed there was a sign. 'Newnan Prison, 4 miles'. Another sign warned her about not picking up hitchhikers. "A prison? You smart little boogers." She said under her breath. Sure enough, four miles later, the chain link fence of the prison appeared. They had reinforced the walls with wooden planks. Somebody by the gate looked at the Jeep with a frown. A gun was raised in warning. Glenn leaned out the window and waved, signaling for them to open the gates. The gates creaked open and she moved the Jeep inward, stopping just inside the fence. Any further and she would have ran into the man standing in front of her, aiming a gun at her head.

Zeva, still in the back seat, barked and snarled at the sight of the metal object. A few more people appeared just as Glenn stepped out of the vehicle. They stared wide-eyes at the dog, as if they had never seen a canine before.

"Step out of the car." The man in front of her Jeep hissed, and Presley shrugged and stepped out. She calmly ordered Zeva to stay, though, the dog looked like she was ready to launch herself out the window in a moment's notice. "Glenn, what the fuck were you thinking? She could be with the Governor!"

Presley scoffed, "Fat chance. Just saw that man running around a few days ago."

The group turned from Glenn to her. An African-American woman stepped forward. "You saw him?" Her brown eyes held emotions that made Presley weary.

"I think so. He called himself the Governor." Presley said simply. "Asked me to follow him, but I politely declined. He was all alone out in the woods, had the eyes of a murderer."

"Smart choice." Glenn muttered quietly. Presley looked at him pointedly, but said nothing.

"What's your name?" The man questioned. His revolver continued to remain aimed at her head. She wanted to squirm from all the pressure, but she wouldn't dare let them see that it bothered her.

"Presley." Silence overcame them, and then suddenly, a woman began laughing. The African-American woman, to be exact. It was obnoxious and sudden, and many people of the group and turned to look at her.

"Ah shit, you're Presley?" She continued laughing. "I was expecting some 6 foot giant with knives for fingers."

"Why the hell does everybody keep saying that?" She chuckled to herself.

"Why did you attack Daryl?" The leader asked, not finding the situation at all humorous. Presley leaned against the Jeep.

"He was trying to take my deer." She shrugged. "Which, he got it in the end, but still. It was mine to begin with." She looked down at her bruised wrist. That had happened when he had tightened his grip on her wrist to make her drop the knife. The yellowish bruise had darkened to dark purple and black splashes on her pale skin.

"So you attacked him?" The man questioned.

"What's your name, sir?" She asked suddenly. That caught him off guard.

"Henry."

"Now what's your real name?" Presley said, her lips pursed to a tight line.

"Rick Grimes." He answered after a moment of hesitation. Presley nodded to herself.

"Well, Rick Grimes, in case you didn't get the memo, I just saved your friend's life. He undoubtedly would have had to run all the way back to your little safe haven, and there would be, without a doubt, a trail of roamers coming right after him." She said boldly, pushing herself away from the Jeep and approaching him until the tip of the revolver was almost touching her forehead. "I don't expect a thank you, but I do expect you to open those gates right there and let me go off on my own. Believe me when I say that we won't be meeting up again."

"We can't do that, Rick." A man with snow white hair limped into the setting. Rick didn't move his arm, but turned his head to look at the elder man. "We at least need an interrogation." Presley frowned at that, backing away to her Jeep. Zeva growled, releasing a feral bark at the strangers. She launched herself from the Jeep, landing nimbly at Presley's side. The hair on the back of her neck bristled in warning.

"Fine-." Rick started to say, but he got interupted by a voice She wished she didn't recognize.

"Ah hell nah."

Daryl came lumbering into the circle, right towards Presley. He pulled a knife from his belt and pointed it right at her face. Out of instinct, Presley took a step back. Zeva barked loudly."Zeva, calm." The dog relaxed a bit, but kept her eyes trained on Daryl. Though Presley kept her hands down at her sides, she was ready to pull the knife from her sheath and strike back.

"We are not letting this devil's spawn another step in here." He hissed, looking at Rick with a dark expression.

"Nice to see you again too, friend." Presley said with a glowing smile. His only response was a glare.

"Daryl, she could be with the Gove-."

"I don't give a flying damn if she's working for the devil himself." Daryl spat. "I want her out."

The group talked together in hushed voices, making the situation even more awkward. "Well, it was nice meeting ya'll, but I should really be going..."

"Not so fast." Rick said, facing her with the revolver again. Presley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Look, guys, if she wanted me dead she would have killed me." Glenn pointed out. "She didn't even know that I was camped out here at the prison until she saw the sign just up the road."

They looked between eachother, obviously torn by the situation. "Check her for weapons." Somebody said, and Rick moved forward, but Daryl stopped him.

"If ya'll gonna make me camp out with this she-devil, I'm gonna be da one to check 'er." He said, turning towards Presley with a dark expression.

"You would love love to put your hands all over me again, wouldn't you, Daryl?" She said a smile as she placed her arms out. He removed all her weapons, dropping them into the passenger's side of the Jeep. He had ignored her snide comment.

"Wait." She said, leaning down and removing a knife from her boot. It was small and thin, undetectable. She placed it beside the other weapons, flashing him a feral smile.

"Zeva, stay." She ordered. The dog hesitated, before springing through the driver's side window. "Stay." The dog's ears flattened at the order.

"Rick, give me the handcuffs." Daryl said, causing Presley to frown.

"Really?" She said, looking at the group with a skeptical look. They said nothing, simply pressed her wrists together behind her back and knocked the cuffs into place.

"Make sure they're tight." Daryl grumbled.

- - -