~Peter's POV~

Keep going. Keep moving. Don't slow down.

Air swished around in my lungs and the familiar burning in my legs started to set in. The raspy moans grew louder behind me and I knew the end was near.

I stumbled over a tree root and sprawled to the ground. My heart raced faster as I heard the sluggish footsteps of the things that would cause me death in only moments.

I knew better than to yell for help, chances were, the group was gone and it would only attract more attention. At the most, there was only a few walkers following me.

If I had a knife I could've fought back, but that was a luxury I wasn't fortunate enough to have. I pushed myself up from the ground and continued running in the opposite direction.

The groans of hunger echoed in my ear and the chance of my death increased.

I was dehydrated, starved and exhausted.

I would've gotten off the farm if I hadn't walked away from the campfire. It was all Rebel's fault. If she hadn't chosen Daryl then I might've had a fighting chance to live. But of course, the bad boy always won.

Mama had told me that in the end, the Good side will always win, and that's why I wasn't going to give up.

If I lived to see Rebel again, I would make it very clear how I felt about her.

As for the Redneck, he wouldn't get off so easy.

That damned hilbilly stole the one thing I liked in this filthy world. I couldn't see why Rebel liked him. He was sleazy and had major anger issues. I knew he hadn't hit Rebel yet, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of it.

I enclosed myself in the branches of a pine tree and the stick was firmly grasped in my hand. The first moans of the walker passed me and I heard it's sniffing.

I watched as it passed by the tree several times before moving on. The same thing happened with the second and third walker, the trusty pine tree concealing my scent.

The fourth, however, was different.

It must've had a better sense of smell, because it took notice of my figure standing between the branches immediatley.

It let out a loud whine, attracting the other things attention. The fourth walker tried to push it's way through the branches, but I stabbed it swiftly in the eye.

The third walker was next to attack. It tried to take a different route, coming in from the left. The left was where all the pointed branches were and I knew immediately that this one would take care of itself.

It stuck it's arms out, reaching for my blocked body. It threw itself at me and the thing's body impaled itself on several branches.

The walker felt no pain and it continued to try and reach me from it's position. I removed the stick from the fourth walker's eyes and skewered it's forehead.

I sighed in relief as the danger of the cannibals fell away. I brushed the dark hair out of my eyes and blew out a long breath, ruffling the pine needles that were hanging off the branches, making several of them drift to the ground.

I stepped out of the encasement of branches and let out a deep breath. The breeze picked up and that is when the smell hit.

The smell of rotting flesh and dried blood.

An icy hand latched onto my shoulder and I spun around. I stifled a scream as I backed away. I didn't get far as my back hit a thick, solid oak.

The walker advanced on me and what last faith I had was lost.

I heard rustling in the trees and I knew that there was more of them coming for me. The walker that was in front of me was hobbling towards me at a fast speed.

If I tried to move it would have easy access to my bare arms and chest as my shirt had been previously torn off by the branches of trees I had encountered earlier.

The walker had me cornered and there was no escaping. I closed my eyes and waited for the fate of death to consume me.

The snapping of a branch was heard and the moans of the walker were increased with rage. The presence of it had faded and I dared open my eyes.

The walker was dangling from the oak tree at least 20 feet off the ground. It was hanging upside down and blood was dripping down from it's head, plopping on to my cheek.

I swiped at it, trying to avoid being contaminated by the filthy blood. Another snap broke out through the forest and I looked around, trying to pinpoint the repeated sound.

I saw movement up in a tree and I saw a dark figure move through the tree, moving closer to the ground. As it got closer, I took the chance to examine the figure.

It wasn't a walker, that's for sure. It moved too swiftly and it was too clean. This 'thing' was a woman. A beautiful woman at that.

She had dark hair and uniquely colored eyes. One was a vibrant green while the other was a soul-shattering gray. She had a leather belt that was pocketed with several close-combat weapons. Her vintage black converse contrasted with the green shirt she was wearing, helping her to blend into the greenery.

"Frankie!" The woman yelled up at the trees.

A young boy about the age of eight swung down from the tree that the woman had previously inhabited.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Did you do this?" She asked knowingly. She had a rugged Australian accent that complimented her tan skin tone.

Something about her reminded me of Rebel and my heart started to beat faster.

"Me? Naw." The boy said, a thick country accent embracing his words.

The woman rolled her eyes at him and only then did she take notice of me. She looked me up and down, crossing her arms in the process.

"Who the hell is he?" the boy asked.

"Frankie! I told you not to use that kind of language!" She chided him.

"Whatever." Frankie grumbled.

The woman went back to looking at me. She had taken an interest in my face, looking closely at the blood that was smeared all over my face.

"You bit?" she asked me.

I shook my head.

"What's your name?"

"Peter." I told her, reaching my hand out so she could shake it. She took my hand in a warm grasp and shook it up and down,

"Clyde."

I smiled at her, "Like Bonnie and Clyde?"

She let out a musical laugh and drew her hand back, "Very original, Peter Pan."

I smiled again and shook my head at her, enjoying the company of this mischievous woman. She gave off a sense of radiance and it couldn't help but make you smile.

"You got a group?" Clyde asked me.

"Had." I corrected her solemnly.

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that." Clyde apologized quietly.

"Can Peter Pan stay with us?" Frankie whispered to her, just loud enough so I could hear.

Hope filled in my chest at his question, I had taken an interest in Clyde and Frankie. I wasn't sure if she was his mother or his brother, but they looked related in sorts.

"Only if he wants too." Clyde said to both me and Frankie.

"I would like that."

~

"So where have you two been staying?" I asked them.

"Some fancy neighborhood. It's like the walkers hadn't even got past the gates. Everything's all neat and there is some kind of metal gate and a filtered lake. It's pretty high class. Showers and everything." Clyde told me.

The thought of a hot shower immediatley drew my attention. Even a cold shower would be a luxury right now.

I followed Frankie and Clyde to a freshly-painted '67 Chevy Impala. Don't get me wrong, I don't know much about cars, even for a guy, but this was a nice car. It was world famous and it auctioned for dozens of thousands, even if it was in terrible condition.

"Nice car." I commented.

"Thanks. Built it up myself." Clyde said proudly, rubbing the shiny hood.

I stared at her in awe as Frankie boarded into the backseat. Clyde gestured for me to get in and I did so, climbing into the passenger seat. The smell of fresh leather hit me and I breathed in deeply, comforted in the scent.

Clyde revved the engine and started to drive off down the abandoned highway, heading west. She had rolled the windows down and shoved a tape into the cassette player. It was classic rock and she had begun to bob her head to the beat.

Not after long, we pulled up beside a high-class, metal gated neighborhood. Off towards the side, you could see that someone had dug under the gate to get into the neighborhood.

I was wondering if the attempt had been successful when Clyde started to pull the car ahead as thet gates parted for her. She stashed a plastic card into the back pocket of her jeans and nudged the car along the roads.

She pulled up into a driveway of a home that would be considered small in comparison to the others that surrounded it.

She pulled a key out of the coin slot that was built into the car and exited the car. Frankie and I followed her movements and trailed her into the house.

The inside of the home looked like it belonged in Better Homes & Gardens. It had a earthen color scheme and it was mixed with futuristic appliances.

The home looked like it had been lived in quite a lot, giving off a homey feel.

"Your room can be second door on the right. Shower is the third door on the left, take your time." Clyde told me, pointing up the spiral staircase.

I nodded my head and muttered a 'thank you' before heading up the stairs, the shower calling my name. I pushed the door in to my room, searching for a towel.

I noted that the large bay window was covered with three of them. I didn't think as I pulled them down one by one, revealing the sight outside. I took my time, surveying the area where I planned to stay for awhile.

Familiar engine noises were heard and I felt the rumble of a motorcycle approaching. Coming from the corner of the window was the line of vehicles that I had gotten so used to in the past.

It was the group.

I covered the window with the curtains and flew down the spiral stair case. Clyde and Frankie were sitting on the couch, talking about something while staring at a large painting.

"We have a problem." I told Clyde.

Her head snapped up and her arm wrapped around Frankie, pulling his body closer to hers protectively.

"What do you mean?" Clyde asked me cautiously.

"The group. They're back." I told her.

"How's that a problem. If anything it's great!" Frankie shouted.

Clyde shushed him and whispered something in his ear so that I wouldn't here. Clyde kissed Frankie on the cheek and he wiggled out of her vice grip, running up the staircase.

Clyde stood and together we walked to the front door. It had a large plate of glass in the center, allowing anyone to see in without their vision being obscured.

"If they shoot, don't shoot back. They aren't going to shoot me, I know that, but I'm not sure about you." I whispered to Clyde.

She nodded her head and pulled a butterfly knife from her leather belt, opening it slowly. I heard the engines being cut off and the slam of car doors. Footsteps approached us and I knew who all would be in the group.

Rick, of course, Shane, T-Dog, Daryl and if she was lucky enough, Rebel. They were the usual combat group seeing as they were the best fighters. If anything might happen, they were the ones to face the problem.

I could see the outline of Rick's sheriff uniform step up to the door. He raised his hand and let out three brisk knocks on the door and several ringings of the doorbell.

"My name is Sheriff Rick Grimes. We aren't here to hurt you and we would like to have a chat with you if that's okay."

Clyde looked at me and I nodded my head, signaling her to go first. I stepped back, hiding behind a column that was built in to support the inner-house.

Clyde opened the door and you could see all the guys, save Daryl, drooling. Rebel rolled her eyes and Daryl snickered at the vulnerable men standing in front of him.

Rebel smacked Rick on the arm, snapping him to attention. He cleared his throat and held out his hand, oblivious to the knife that Clyde held in the parallel hand.

"Sheriff Rick Grimes. Who might you be?" Rick asked.

"Clyde Beckinsdale. Nice to meet you Sheriff." Clyde said politely shaking Rick's hand.

"Nice knife you got there." Daryl said, eyeing the combat weapon.

It was then that the rest of the group stepped back in fear of the knife that she held.

"Thanks. I know how to use it too." Clyde said, smirking at their anxiety.

Rick stepped forward again, trying not to show the fear that was plain on his face. He was nearly standing on the threshold and the close proximity to her was making rage shoot through my veins.

"Are you alone?" Rick asked her.

Clyde shook her head and smiled politely at the combat group. Shane tensed and you could see his 'excitement' at that.

"I don't believe you. Prove it and we'll leave you be." Rick said.

"Why don't you come on out." Clyde called to me, her Australian heritage showing greatly.

I stepped out from behind the column and showed the group my face. Gasps were heard and weapons were raised, most of them aiming at me, but some were aiming at Clyde.

"Peter."

________________________________________________

Video on the side is just something I thought kind of sounded cool and somewhat fit the chapter at the beginning.

Picture on the side is the beautiful Clyde. (That rhymed. I'm a poet!)

Vote, Comment, Fan if you'd like!