So, hello readers. New and old alike!

I have a confession, (which really isn't much of a confession) - I am new to writing "Walking Dead fan fiction"! BUT I have read enough of what is out there - along with the show itself - that I think I've got some of the characters worked out. And since this is an AU, I've taken some major liberties with one of our favorite characters.

And well. The change from man to woman can not be understated. ^.^

I originally started writing this story because of a challenge to myself. I wanted to write a Gender-Bender ever since... well, forever really. And I thought, what better universe to use than the Walking Dead? Where literally everyone dies and nobody is safe!

And I love these two characters (Daryl and Glenn)! So I thought, why not?

And this is what I came up with! :P

Summary: Gender-Bender AU. Glen is one of the survivors of the Zombie Apocalypse. Even almost a month in, it's getting harder to stay human. Especially when the rest of the world throws humanity in the dirty faster than Glen could load a gun.

- Warnings: Cursing. -

Walking a Different Path

-
A Little Thing Called Life

Heart pounding, fingers fidgeting with a nervous-tick, eyes unable to stay on one thing for longer than a split second; these were just a few of Glen's symptoms of surviving the Apocalypse. There were more. There always were more, but these were the most prominent.

Insomnia was the newest one to add to Glen's ever growing list.

Her companion suffered from a few of her symptoms as well and then a few more of his own. Namely asthma, which made it a bitch to keep track of him without the Geeks keeping tabs on him as well. When he had a small attack, it was like the biggest 'I'm here' call ever. And it took Glen a few seconds debating if this time, it would be the last time.

Doug, the short fifteen year old ginger-haired kid, was standing behind Glen, rifle smashed against his chest and watching the door they had filed through with trepidation. His fingers were shaking but strong against his weapon, even if they weren't on the trigger. His usual smile was gone from his freckled face as he didn't dare take his eyes away from where they currently were. His breathing was not good.

Then again, when had it ever been?

Glen had found Doug in a bean field, starving more than she was and clutching a rifle to his chest. His clothes had been splattered with blood. Days old at that point. There were a few dead-dead people around him, shot twice in the head each. Each shot was so professional it was scary, which made Glen weary of the pitiful child. The kid had been crying, but had managed to level the gun at Glen and stutter out a warning. There was a moment of heart-to-heart "don't kill me" blurble — Then they'd been practically swarmed by Walkers, fought them off, and afterwards just kind of stared at each other. Cogs turning in each other's brain's.

It was a no-brainer to stick together after that. Since Doug knew how to handle a weapon, Glen was more than willing to deal with his age and imperfections. Doug had to put up with her as well, but she had stealth and efficiency on her side.

She was more of a boon than anything. Light on her feet, able to suss out a situation fast: she was ideal.

After the first meeting, as they had both been walking towards Glen's truck she'd 'borrow' a while back, Doug told her the significance of the two dead people behind him. His mother and father. It wasn't soon after that Glen grew to be... well, protective was too weak a word — Territorial and motherly was probably better. Doug barely knew what hit him in that regard.

That was almost a week ago. A lifetime ago.

Now. At the moment, Glen was sitting on the very top of a short and squat building, all doors she and her companions had found were closed firmly and quietly as soon as she had arrived in a flurry of movement and action. Even though there had only been two rickety old, steel doors, total; one couldn't be too careful. Especially with the body-munchers around.

Glen didn't even stop the shiver as she thought of the... things that were now outnumbering humanity. Doug had a variety of names for them. Ranging from Walkers to Geeks and Zombies. And they followed humanity like a plague. At least in this city. The body count was surprisingly high for a city that a few miles back had boasted a population of five hundred and two. And it wasn't just this city. It was basically every city now.

In fact, Glen wouldn't have dared step foot inside the tall building deathtrap of a village - if it wasn't for the fact that she and Doug were currently starving.

Doug was just a kid. And Glen was no hunter, or even semi-able bodied in providing for herself. Before the 'incident' she'd lived off of Pizza, Mountain Dew, and any fast food place within five minutes driving distance around her small apartment. If she even felt the need to eat that day.

"Dude."

Glen didn't have the heart to snap at her younger companion to shut up. The kid was even younger than she was... if not stupider as well. Then again... Glen had gone to college for however short a time it had been and then dropped out.

They shared stupidity.

"I know."

"That was a close one." Doug breathed, leaning his back against the railing next to Glen.

Glen gritted her teeth. A flash of memory hitting her along with the stench of just how close the Geeks had been to her and Doug before they'd high-tailed it away. "I know."

"Like... Really, really, really - "

"Doug," Glen found herself snapping, running her hand through her hair to find that her ponytail had come undone. As she redid her hair, she whispered to herself, "I know how close it was."

And Glen really, really did.

From the first time the news stations had first announced a man jumping a woman in an alleyway and eating her, to the bite victims taking over the hospitals, to the crazier stories of the dead just rising at funeral homes... Glen may not have known just how close everything was to ending, but she wasn't surprise when it did.

At least, not too terribly. The dead walking was a shock, but Glen wasn't shocked with the outcome of that certain scenario. Humankind was just waiting for a signal to go bat-shit crazy on a good day. It was like a plotline to a terrible movie, except now that she had survived it - automatically put her in the running for first-person shooter and hero duty.

Which may or may not have anything to do with why she had taken Doug with her. No matter the liability he brought her.

"Sorry." Doug whispered, his weapon set against the railing as he hugged himself. His blues eyes staring out past her shoulder as he unfocused on the world around them. A dangerous habit, but one that kept the kid happy as he thought about the past. And if there was one thing Glen didn't want was a Debbie-downer waiting to die.

"Not your fault." Glen slurred, shoving her head into her forearm to stop the dizzying dehydration-headache. "I would just rather ignore the meat-munchers on the other side of the door for a moment, if you don't mind."

The dead started up their scratching and banging of the door, smelling the few living bodies on the other side.

"I don't mind." Doug whispered, but it sounded closer to a whimper.

What a mess, Glen thought to herself, looking down at the street smattered with the dead. The walking dead. There were about twenty bodies walking around, stumbling around and sniffing towards the rooftop. It wasn't the first time Glen thanked God that the town they found themselves in was so small. It could have been worse. After all.

The silence of her mind was broken when the other person spoke, whom Glen had almost completely forgotten about save for the fact he was taking up surface area on their roof.

"Ya know, this coulda been worse."

Glen was so close to snapping at him, too. Even if the stranger had saved them. The fact that they had had to be saved at all irked her. And by a hot red-neck nonetheless.

"Yeah, thanks for that insight, Daryl." Doug sassed like the teenager he was.

The day had started out so well, too. Glen thought to herself with a moan, wanting to ram her head against the nearest surface. The boys were now arguing behind her on what the plan of action should be yet Glen could read the undertones of 'who's got the bigger dick?'.

It had been going so well.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Doug pestered, rifle pointing out the rolled down window as he read the map sprawled across his lap. Stars, marker markings, and other random stickers littering the document in clusters which could have been any number of things. Cities. Roads. Hoards of the dead.

"Is anywhere safe?" Glen asked with a grumble, driving her way through the obstacle course of the highway. It was a pain, but it was an easy indicator of their position to danger. The closer to towns, the closer to roadblocks. Glen knew they would only be able to drive at most another five miles before either having to off-road it or get out of the car.

The thought didn't sit well with her, but they'd only been doing this a few days. Surely, it would get better.

Surely they would get better at this.

"You're not that great at this whole 'reassuring' thing," Doug said, looking over at her with a pointed look. "You know?"

Glen shoved him with a good-natured snort, "Tell me something I don't know."

And then it was silent for a few blessed moments as they reached the dreaded roadblock. It wasn't a roadblock in the sense that the police set it up. It was a roadblock in the sense that cars could not pass. At least half a mile of cars were now between Glen and the city.

It was the longest line of cars they'd seen since Atlanta. Which had been almost three miles long coming out, with none going in.

Which made Glen's stomach flip and flop uncomfortably, but they needed food and water more than they needed comfort of mind at the moment. Unfortunately, this was the closest city for almost another twenty miles. Stomach over safety. Every time.

Glen looked up to see the sun setting already, still high in the sky but inching its way down.

They had six - maybe five hours of sunlight left.

Glen didn't like it, but it was do-able.

"Does this mean we're walking?" Doug asked with a wrinkled nose, head halfway out the window, staring at the daunting builds in the distance.

Glen shoved the parking break into gear and then snatched the keys out of the ignition. A preventative against thieves.

"No," Glen sighed, roughly wrenching the door open as quietly as she could. "It means we're going to be running."

True to form, Glen and Doug spent half their time running. From either building to building, tree to tree, car to car, or some combination of the three. They'd seen a few Walkers, but had learned early on that as long as they were silent, still, and far enough away - the stupid dead-things stumbled right on by.

It took about two hours walking and running, where it usually - in a sane and stable society - would have taken only a half an hour. And in that time, Glen had only seen four and a half zombies. The half zombie was the only one that saw them, but was in no position to get them. Half of its body was gone from the middle of its chest to the left side of its body. The growls and snarls it made as they passed, refusing to waste bullets, would probably haunt Doug's nightmares. Glen knew the poor kid had enough of them as it was.

Somehow, Glen just wasn't as affected by the Walkers as Doug was. Maybe it was because she'd never seen anyone she knew turned into a Geek... Maybe there was something wrong with her. Perhaps she just refused to see the stupid things as people.

It was a useful survival skill, fortunately. Everyone else's misfortune her gain.

Inside the city limits was silent, the wind whistling through the buildings the only sound. Glen held her pistol aloft, having taken it off a corpse with a missing head a few days ago. Doug was a little more confident wielding his rifle first as a baton and then as a long-range weapon second.

The silence of the city was unsettling. It was so unsettling that Glen started to experience her extreme symptoms of the apocalypse. Fidgety hands, eyes flashing every which way, and ears tuned for the first sign of a groan or moan.

They were also her symptoms of survival.

And really, it wasn't a bad thing. Her paranoia. It saved her life more times in the last few weeks than she could count.

When the groaning and moaning did end up happening, Glen and Doug had been in the local 'Mart, clearing out whatever was left of the canned goods, and medical supplies. The sound first started small, but Glen being on edge was quick to be in her listen first, act, and then 'see what happened afterwards' mind set.

She'd been grabbing medical supplies, basically snatching anything she saw and tossing it into her bag. Gause, pill bottles, pain reliever, medication, and whatever those tubes were for. Doug was on food duty.

It was such a time that her paranoia saved her life.

Because as soon as Glen grabbed the last bottle of Ibuprofen off the shelf, stuffed it deep into her bag, and turned: she was greeted by two Walkers at the end of the aisle. They didn't see her first, which gave her the precious moments to get herself running. It was a surreal experience. Being this close to dead and seeing their skin festering and falling off. She almost dropped her bag that was thrown over her shoulder in pure shock. Instead, already having heard a few of their footsteps and labored exotic sounds; Glen ran.

She ran hard.

"Doug!"

He'd been down the party aisle last she'd seen.

She was super thankful that, as soon as he heard her yell, he followed it as she ran by them and then they both doubled back to leave the building. The Walkers moaning behind them in a chorus of hell.

It had been a close one.

Running from the local 'Mart, it didn't take long for the Geeks to all show their ugly faces. After being found by two walkers, three soon followed, then five, then twelve, until there were more than was possible to escape. They came from alleys and doorways and windows. Streaming into the street like worms from mud. And unfortunately enough, Doug and Glen had started running in the opposite direction from where their truck was.

It was an 'oh crap' moment when they reached the middle of town to be greeted with a line of Walkers. Basically trapped between two sides of undead-bastards.

Thankfully, before they could start to really panic, they weren't stuck for long. Glen was fast thinking and even faster on her feet. Seeing an alleyway that was deserted she turned down it, hoping beyond hope that there would be an escape. Doug had then pointed out the fire escape attached to an old apartment building. The only problem was that it was too high off the ground for them to successfully get on.

But there was a dumpster close enough that one could possible —maybe — jump from dumpster to ladder.

Of course, Glen had only ever seen such moves off of TV and video games. Crazy or desperate people did these moves. And... Well. Glen now qualified as both of those. Already half-way to hero-ville, Glen decided the split-second as she ran down the alley that it was either now or never.

And Glen was always a now or never kind of girl.

"What are we-" Glen did not decrease her speed even as Doug stuttered next to her.

Glen took a running leap onto the side of the dumpster and hauled herself up with a swiftness that should have surprised her. Half way up the dumpster, Doug's face the picture of confusion as he slid to a stop to watch dumbfounded while Glen took half a second to breath —

Then leapt.

A split second in air and Glen started questioning why the hell she would ever do such a thing. And why should thought it was even a possibility. And why, why, why —

Glen had never had a second last as long as it did while in air from dumpster to ladder. Not even that time in seventh grade when that douche Noah had rebuffed her affections and the entire school yard had shunned her. Not ever. Until the rail-ladder basically collapsed one of her lungs as she hit it straight on. An 'oomph' leaving her mouth as she grappled to gain a hold. The feeling of getting hit by a car and also sliding off a cliff hit Glen all at once, but somehow - God knew how - she pulled herself up.

She felt a moment of pure elation and joy as she pulled off a move that... well, really was impressive for her. Having been a delivery girl for a Pizza place down the street from her apartment, Glen didn't do muscle or action. Plus she lived off of video games, too.

She didn't do real life drama.

It hit her, like a stack of pizza boxes: She just had.

Before the world could come off focus and become kilter-skewed by her adrenaline — she remember Doug.

A thrill of fear ran up her spine as she turned to see Doug staring dumbly up at her. Glen thrust her arm out frantically to Doug who was feet below her. Oh god. The dead were stumbling towards the fifteen year old at a stagger pace, slow enough that they had time but fast enough that it was barely enough. Slow but steady. When the Stumblers were at about seven feet away, Glen was able to gain purchase on Doug's wrist and with a grunt start to pull him up.

Glen was not a large woman. Nor was she tall.

She was a small thing, built, honestly, for speed and stealth now that she knew what you needed for such things. So getting Doug from the ground to the top of the ladder, or even the bottom rung, was hard. Like one of those 'impossible tasks in video games' hard.

But somehow, with the zombies grappling for Doug's sneakers and him being pulled down and then back up like a tug-of-war; Glen did it. Perhaps it was the fear of being alone that forced her hand to do that impossible. Maybe she just liked giving the finger to fate. Could it have been the adrenaline coursing through her body?

It didn't particularly matter as Doug lay in front of her, sprawled against the mesh floor breathing hard through his gaping mouth. Glen was just proud he hadn't become zombie chow.

"Holy shit," Doug stated, dazed as the dead tried to raise themselves up the ladder, too. Limbs flailing uselessly at the bottom rung. The rotting muscles and tendons didn't help and they all failed, one by one to reach the meat above them.

Glen grunted, never being much for words as she leaned against the wall, catching her breath. The world had ended and it basically equated to her having to be less of a socially awkward penguin with people. Her arms hurt like a bitch, though. Like a sunburn and being whipped repeatedly. And tired. Fatigued really.

Hoping she wasn't going to have to do that again anytime soon, Glen allowed herself to breath briefly. One death-defying stunt was enough for the month.

"That was something out of an action movie." The admiration was easy to hear in Doug's voice, but Glen pushed it away like many small 'pleasures' nowadays.

Glen almost chuckled, but the sounds of the dead were becoming more unbearable. And louder, meaning that within the next half an hour the rest of the town walkers would be swarming the building. Because of sound alone.

If her whole body didn't hurt, Glen probably would have been more aware of what was going on around them. Like a good survivor did.

"We might have a problem."

But she wasn't paying attention.

"What problem?" Glen asked, looking to see Doug's mouth dropped open as he stared straight upwards through the mesh of the fire escape.

It was then that Glen saw for herself what exactly was happening.

Sometime between the end of the world and now, a bomb must have exploded from the side of the building. Perhaps a gas leak. Perhaps fate giving the finger right back at her.

Because half of the fire escape leading up onto the top of the building was completely gone.

With it, their safety.

By some miracle or gift from God - there were no walking dead in the small room that had exploded. It had been a small little apartment. It's kitchen and living room one, separated by only a counter top. Though there had been people in it originally, it was clear they would not be bothering them. Measuring the amount of gore on the walls, Glen surmised there had probably been three people. They had probably died from the blast, but not counting on it, Glen kept her eyes peeled.

One run in with a swarm of Geeks was enough for Glen.

Going through the cabinets she found a few boxes of cereal, canned goods, and a spice rack. Two out of three wasn't bad, she decided as she started tearing the boxes apart so she could just grab the bags within.

Doug, having more luck with checking out the small apartment called out quietly, "I can't - Hey, come check this out!"

He was over by a large cabinet, staring curiously into a hole blown in the side. It was a pretty old looking thing, torn almost in half. Glen took another good look around, dropped the bags, and then went over to where Doug was kneeling.

"What is-" Glen began as she stopped by Doug's kneeling form. "Holy shit."

In the cabinet, or what was left of the cabinet, were guns.

And not small, portable guns, either. There was an assortment of rifles and shotguns, with ammo out the wazzu. It was enough that Glen was practically speechless. There was enough here for at least two people, with enough ammo to take out the Walkers in Atlanta.

How hadn't anybody found this? Was Glen's first thought, follow immediately by: Who cares?

They spent the next half an hour going through the guns and packing away ammo in gun-bags they had found conveniently at the bottom of the cabinet. Thankfully Doug was a big enough kid, lanky more than muscular, that he could carry two bags, plus his backpack. Meaning that they could get away with more guns than they had thought were even left in the world.

And ammo.

Glen felt like crying as she sat against the wall, forgetting momentarily that they were trapped. They hadn't had this much good luck since they'd found each other. A part of Glen felt intensely suspicious, but threw that side of her away as she basked in the good fortunate they were now enjoying. Even surrounded by all the danger as they were.

"Poor things." Doug stated as he stared at the splatters on the walls. His eyes were glued to the remains as he tugged on his sleeve nervously. Who knew if touching the fluid would get you infected?

"Better them than us." Glen sighed, hoisting her bags up. Ignoring the dead-fluid on the walls in favor of keeping her eyes and ears peeled. "And besides, they left us with a small gold mine —"

The moment was cut short as a door creaked open somewhere. The echo made it almost impossible to pinpoint where the sound had originated from, but the fact that the sound had existed at all made Glen stop entirely.

Glen and Doug froze with the bags over their shoulders and backpacks tightly strapped on. Doug had his rifle close at hand, but didn't dare move. The pistol Glen had all but forgotten about was somewhere in her pant's elastic. Focusing on the feeling she felt it on her right side, right above her hip bone. They barely breathed as they waited for the next sound to come which would determine what they would be doing.

They expected a Walker. At least one, if not more.

What they got instead was a red-neck man, cross bow drawn as he whirled through the door in a formation that was almost militant in nature. His feet were swift as he kicked the door shut behind him all in the same motion before he saw them and leveled his weapon towards them.

It had happened so fast that Doug and Glen hadn't even had their hands on their own weapons themselves before the man had got them in his sights.

"Don't even think 'bout it."

Glen froze, hearing for the first time the gravelly voice coming from the man in front of her. Doug, being a hot-headed kid wasn't as quick to stop moving. An arrow buried itself in the wall between Glen and Doug's head, and before Glen could even slow her beating heart the red-neck had another slotted in its place. Doug's face was the picture of fear, sweating profusely and eyes wide with whites showing, as his hand fell away from his gun.

"I said," The man continued on without even a rise in his voice. "Don't even think 'bout it."

Seeing Doug look so shaken, she knew she had to stop the random stranger before he did any more damage. Glen was not prepared for human interaction of the violent kind, excluding the walkers, so she tried her best with what she was given.

"Alright. Alright." Glen tried, moving her hands from her hips. "Listen, we don't want any trouble."

The crossbow was suddenly pointed in Glen's direction and she froze. "The hell you don't, chink."

White hot fury that Glen had almost thought she was incapable of feeling warmed in her gut.

The hell did this hillbilly know? Her family was new to the country by only two generations. They were citizens of the united states as much, if not more, than this idiot. She'd already had to live with her skin color and family heritage in high school and what little college she had gone through. She didn't need it at the end of the world.

"I'm Korean." Glen found herself snarling in anger, standing up as she did. "So, fuck you very much. And don't even get me started on how derogator-"

A snarl came from her left. She'd been so caught up in the man in front of her, that listening and being paranoid had momentarily escaped her.

At that same moment an arrow went flying.

Things were pretty tense after that.

The snarl had come from a Walker from the next room. A hole in the wall really. And they streamed through like a line of ants.

There ended up being four walkers in the room that afterwards was found to be the bathroom. All in various states of rot and falling apart. Two of them had been quickly dispatched by their attacker, and Glen had grabbed her own weapon to shoot the closest one. Doug followed, somewhat shakily.

Then, as soon as the walkers were dead and unmoving, for good, Glen and Doug whirled to point their weapons at the strangers face. With their guns already drawn, it was a little easier to level the playing field with the crossbow wielding hillbilly.

The fact that there had been another Walker behind them didn't help their case much, though. In fact, it probably weighed it down.

The hillbilly red-neck, after shooting the dead through his eyeball in a surprising display of skill; had cursed, looked them over, cursed again, and then introduced himself somewhat tensely as Daryl.

Nothing more. Nothing less. Glen was the second to lower her weapon, and Doug shakily followed.

It was clear the man didn't trust either of them, but Glen attributed that to the fact that they outnumbered him and had pointed guns at each other. They had followed with their names as well, giving just as good as they got. The fact that Glen had been called a 'chink' still pissed her off, but she usually let by-gones be by-gones.

"What the hell are you two even doin' here in Conyer?" Daryl asked as he flung his crossbow to his back. Even without his weapon on his front, he was plenty dangerous. Something told Glen that. Perhaps it was the fact that the wife-beater left little to the imagination and his muscles stood out lean and there. He had the body of what Glen would assume a lion wrestler must have needed.

Glen faintly thought to herself, Conyer is the town's name? Damn, We're closer to Atlanta than I originally thought. The sign had only posted of population, the name covered in graffiti. If she had known it was only a few miles to Atlanta she never would have stopped.

Death by starvation or not.

"Supplies." Doug grunted before Glen could give a more suitable response. Looking between the narrowed eyes of her two companions she quietly understood what was happening. Oh no, She was not going to be dealing with a male-pissing match. Wasn't gonna happen. Not today, her mind snarled.

Daryl was apparently on the same wave-length because he barely gave Doug a second glance as he looked to her. It was clear that she was the leader of their twosome. "Did the line of cars comin' out of the city not warn ya?"

Fed up with the day and its crappy-ness, Glen snapped back, "Didn't they warn you?"

There was an almost smile pulling at the corners of Daryl's scowling lips. "Touché."

Then silence. Which made it a lot easier for Glen to get a good look at their 'savior'. He was a tall guy, all wiry muscle and scruffy. He looked as if he hadn't bathed long before the dead had started rising. But he had a kind of... charm. If one were to ask Glen what she thought it was, she wouldn't be able to put it into words.

One thought stood out.

"Which way are you going?"

Daryl was immediately distrustful. His hand twitching as if to go towards his cross-bow on his back. "Why?"

"Better three than two." Glen felt she needed to at least try. Dangerous as the man was... he was human. And as far as Glen was concerned, that made him A-OK in her book. Perhaps not trustworthy yet, but... he wasn't dead. Racist but not dead.

Daryl followed her thought process and whipped his head towards her. His eyes wide in disbelief. "Like hell it is."

"When the dead outnumber you ten to one?" Glen posed, watching the man close up slowly. "I think another person evens the odds a little, don't you?"

Daryl was silent, his neck tense and his tendons standing out starkly. Glen almost thought he was going to hiss and stalk away to hid under a couch.

"Fine." He spat, looking towards Doug carefully. "But - Just till we get outt'a the city."

After that... it was pretty cut and dry.

Walkers had been swarming the lower levels, making it impossible to get out of the building without sacrificing someone. Daryl offered up Doug, which didn't win him any prizes, but other than that: they had no options except to go up.

Which, yes, was a death sentence.

Which made it even worse when a swarm of about ten Walkers chased them up the stairs. Cemented their decision. The walkers in the building were also better preserved and could almost jog after them. Barely giving them enough time to shut and lock the door before they fell upon the strong piece of steel. The groans and moans of their wanton brains asking for meat.

And that was how they managed to get caught up on a roof with no way to get down and only each other for company. The walkers were surrounding the building and none of the adjacent rooftops were close enough to get to. The rooftop they were on was bare of any useful material sans what they brought themselves.

"Fucking great." Daryl snarled, stomping over to the opposite side of the roof. Making Doug skitter closer to Glen.

"It could be worse." Glen tried to lighten the mood. Only succeeding in getting Daryl's eyes harshly on her. "One of us could have gotten killed."

There was a moment of silence and then the redneck started cursing up a storm again.

Doug looked at her thankfully, but weakly. Glen guessed the days activities had worn him out.

Glen had to agree, even as she looked at the newest member of their rag-tag group.

At least one of them hadn't died.

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