You weren't planning on going far today. You just wanted to look for some berries growing nearby, maybe some porcini mushrooms - the ones that hadn't gone bad yet. But then you heard that sound. A child's voice. Panic.

You saw him - a boy of about ten, with lush curls, in a worn hoodie, holding a knife. He was trying to fight off two walkers, but he was backing away, catching his foot on a snag. He was falling, the putrid breath of the walkers hot against his face.

You weren't thinking. You just rushed forward, the crunch of leaves beneath your boots loud in your ears, the metallic tang of fear in your mouth. Maybe you shot, maybe you stabbed - it's all a blur in your memory now. The main thing is that they are now dead, their bodies twitching on the forest floor. And the boy is breathing, his chest heaving with sobs as he looks at you with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"...Thank you," he squeezes out, his voice trembling.

You're just getting closer when she flies out of the forest, her boots skidding to a stop on the leaf-covered ground. A girl of about nineteen, with a short haircut that frames her sharp features, wearing a leather jacket and a look that could burn you to ash. She grabs the boy by the shoulders, her eyes darting between you and the fallen walkers, wary and predatory, like a wild cat protecting its own.

"What happened here?" she asks, her hand never moving far from the knife at her hip. You hear her voice for the first time - low, slightly hoarse, carrying the weight of someone who's seen too much.

The boy interrupts, almost choking with emotion, "Clem, she saved me! Those two almost got me, and she... she came!" Clementine looks back at you, her gaze lingering on your face as if memorizing every detail. Slowly, she relaxes her stance just slightly.

"Who are you?"