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[She'd split up with Rick without much fuss, but no one and nothing is keeping Carol from her family, who she sacrificed everything to protect. Not with ground-shaking blasts coming unmistakeably from the direction of the prison -- a tank, she finds out too late, as she drives up and sees the prison overrun, yard littered with corpses both fresh and long-turned.]

[Her eyes dart across the scene, heart pounding even as she is perfectly, painfully still. No use panicking. Much better to focus, keep her knife ready, and do what she can. Try to identify that movement darting off into the brush as friend or foe -- ]

[Mika, Lizzie...?]

[Not allowing herself to continue hoping in specific names, Carol starts off into the Georgia woods. Each step careful and deliberate, as little sound as possible, senses stretching. Sooner or later she'll hear something, a rustle or a moan or, just maybe, the echo of a familiar voice. Whether she'll be a welcome sight, well. That depends on a lot.]


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Carol Peletier

October 2015

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