Missouri.

Fuad and Terry proceeded in relative silence for a bit before coming up to an old car. It wasn't the largest, nor the most luxurious, but it provided concealment, relative cover and was nice because it kept heat well enough. It was an older Lincoln, so it actually afforded a lot of room compared to the more compact models of today. Both looked at each other, waiting to see if one would give reason to skip it and move on, but neither spoke up. With a slight shrug, both took "business as usual" which involved walking in a circle around the car many times over, going out as the walked. They would stand closer together at first then eventually end up about 20 or 30 feet away towards the end. They did this to see if they could find any immediate threats, like zombies or people, and then also looked for signs of activity, such as bodies, tracks, trails or anything of the sort. This was all done in relative silence unlike earlier in the day or when they were on the move. When they were moving, dangers could come and go, and they we already on the go, so it wasn't that important--danger was just as likely that you to walk into them as they into it. But now, they'd be static and they needed to be more mindful and serious. 

The ended up just over about half a mile from the vehicle and at that point they decided to move back, and about that time, it started to snow. It started as light flurries that hardly accumulated, but started to fall a bit harder. Fuad made a face expressing his displeasure, but kept them to himself for the time being. They were within a few hundred yards of the vehicle when Fuad stopped suddenly and silently, so much so that Terry took a few steps before realizing what was going on. He turned back and looked at Fuad, who pointed down to the ground. 

There were footprints in the light snow. 

Fuad spoke up first, but quietly. "It's a kid. It's alone. And it's not shambling or dragging. I think this kid's alives." 

"You don't know that," Terry shot back quickly, already seeing where this was going. "I don't think w--"

"Shut up Terry. We're gunna check it out. Worst case scenario, it's one kid walker and we just put it down. But this may be a kid, and this kid may need help."

It was rare that Fuad was forward and commanding, but when he was, Terry knew the argument was generally sound, and that it would ultimately dissolve to "well then leave Terry, I'll do it myself." They've been in spots like this before.

---------------------

As Valentina kept walking, finding nothing but the dead and dust, saliva was dribbling down her chin as she continued to starve. It had been close to four days since she had a proper three-meal ration arrangement, and she'd had no food at all on the fourth day. Foam was beginning to form on the side of her mouth. Her arms and legs could not help but to shiver. The hunger pangs in the stomach was unbearable. Everything swam before her eyes, and the lack of sleep made everything even more unbearable - even the snow and sunshine, things normally enjoyable, became nothing but a source of irritation to Valentina.

Thoughts ran through her mind. Naughty thoughts, but by now good and bad mattered little as she decided, inasmuch as how much a starving child could decide, that she would do anything to find food and bring some back to Dylan. Thoughts of her previous attempt to rob someone returned, haunting her, jabbing at her heart - but the pain from it was nothing compared to the abuse her stomach was going through, so she remained resolute. 'Gretel did kill the witch', Valentina decided. 'The Prince did kill Maleficent to save the sleeping beauty', she thought. 'The Three Little Pigs did kill the Big Bad Wolf', she believed. Then she remembered how she was badly treated by everyone she came across, well, except for her family, Lieutenant Hugh and his men, and Dylan.

The little girl, however, did not have to languish in her dark thoughts as an opportunity had presented itself to her - two men standing out in the open, in the middle of the road, seemingly unafraid. Valentina decided, in her extreme hunger and delirium, that they were bad men for standing in the middle of the road, unafraid, and decided that she would kill them for whatever they had. Quickly darting towards the twisted hulk of a wrecked vehicle, she hid behind it with her MP5K close at hand. Hopping from one hiding spot to the next, she was coming closer, almost ready to gun them down.

Yet... Valentina remembered, miraculously through the haze of desperation clouding her that was like an evil magical spell from a dark sorcerer. She remembered her last attempt at robbing. A family of five, like her own. A father, a mother, two daughters and a son, like her own. She remembered pointing Valerie's snub-nosed revolver at them, asking for everything they had, but they said they had nothing. Hungry and desperate, Valentina remembered firing her gun into the air - she didn't want to hurt anyone. She was afraid to hurt anyone then. Yet she did. The biters came, and as Valentina ran when a horde was forming, she turned back and saw that the family didn't - she remembered that one of them was trapped. She remembered seeing them being surrounded , fell upon by the hungry dead, torn to pieces in a dancing fountain of blood...

Feeling guilty, Valentina did not know what to do anymore. When she took a peek at the two men again, she saw them as just... men, rather than bad men. Although she was desperate, the screams from her previous robbery attempt haunted her. Standing up, she walked towards them, unable to think of a way, unable to think straight because of the haze surrounding her mind, permeating it, paralysing it. Looking at the ground as she approached the two men, she held on to her MP5K tightly, close to her chest, her knuckles turning white from her unnaturally vice-like grip (bearing in mind that she was a kid), unable to... think. Her eyes wandered, sometimes landing on the road, sometimes on their legs, rarely and only briefly, on their eyes and then on the cars on the road.

Valentina, in her current state, was a miserable-looking thing. The abuse she suffered was becoming quite obvious. Other than her one dead eye and frowning scar, her eyebags betrayed her lack of proper sleep, her shaking limbs hunger, not to mention the paleness upon her skin - exhaustion and everything else. The barrel of her gun wavered as Valentina decided what to do with it, but never towards the men as she was unsure what to do with them.