I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Run

A gunshot rang out through the clearing, barely drowned out by the now-torrential rain, and causing what few birds that had remained in the trees above to take flight, squawking as they went.

Blake gave a groan, as she felt the sudden limp form of the rotter slump down on top of her, heavy and reeking of death.

The ground beneath her was soggy and wet, and Blake blinked about now, to see that she had fallen about ten foot-or-so down into a muddy pit, about twenty feet wide, and filled at the bottom with a muddy pool of rain water, that Blake was now unfortunately sat in, with the walker piled on top of her.

She had, landed on her back, just about managing to release the safety on her gun to fire it, causing the walker to tumble down top of her, its jaws, and green and broken teeth, snapping wildly at her shoulder.

Why the fuck had she only brought a gun out here and no knife?

But Blake, giving a heavy groan, shoving these fruitless regrets from her mind.

What good were they to her now?

She had three bullets left and Blake knew that that gunshot was loud enough to draw more walkers to her position. She had to be more careful. Her goal was to find Mia, and not get herself killed out here!

And so, getting this rotter off of her, and getting out of this pit, was the first step in doing that.

Blake gave yet another pained groan, shoving the weight of the dead freak off of her, it landing in the puddle of rain water beside her with a small splosh, as the blonde woman caught her breath, tugging herself up into a sitting position.

She was filthy, soaked to the skin, her back half absolutely coated in wet mud, but even so, she wiped her hands together and pushed herself to her feet, as rain poured down all around her in sheets, making her wince, staring up at the top of the pit, several feet above her now.

She could already felt her feet sinking into the muddy dirt beneath her feet, but, frowning a little, and placing her gun back into the waistband of her jeans, Blake propelled herself forwards, making to climb out of the wide sloped hole.

But her fingers scrabbled uselessly at the muddy sides, as her booted feet did the same, finding no traction against the ground in the ever falling rain.

Fuck.

She tried again.

The other side of the pit this time, using the body of the walker as a stepping stone to launch herself forwards and attempt to leap for the sides.

But try as she might, Blake just slid back down, the mud-covered sides of the hole giving way beneath her feet, widening, creating a cavernous indent in the sides of the pit.

And the more she tried, as the seconds ticked by, letting out one roar of exhausted frustration after another, the worse the situation got, with the dirt beneath her hands and feet almost giving way beneath her like sand, in its water-clogged state.

Finally after what felt like an age, letting out a pained moan of defeat, Blake staggered backwards, her front now plastered in thick black mud, coating her legs, shoes and arms, with flecks of dirt covering her face too.

She knew whistling to signal the Saviours was pointless with the rain as loud as it was.

Had it been another day, Blake might have laughed to herself at the situated she was in, trapped here, in a state, filthy....

But not today, the caramel-blonde woman hanging her head in agony and utter anguish.

Lost.