Michonne felt her heart freeze in her chest when she saw the man holding Carl, the muzzle of his gun pressed against the boy's temple, the fear in Carl's eyes.

She was filled with hate and anger at this man who would kill her most precious friend in front of her.

"Let him go," Michonne ordered, barely able to keep her voice from shaking.

"Nah, not just yet," the man leered.

"Dad..." Carl whimpered.

She saw Rick, unmoving and bloodied, on the ground near two dead men.

"Now, hand over the sword, Xena, and nobody gets hurt, alright?" the man said, not even trying to sound sincere.

Michonne took a deep breath, reaching for an answer. Let go of the anger. Anger makes you stupid. Stop thinking about it and do what you have to do.

"Carl, look at me," she spoke to the boy, holding out her empty hands, taking one small step, then another.

"Hey, listen to me," she told Carl, catching and holding his eyes.

"Did you hear me, woman?! Put the sword down or the kid gets it!" the man yelled, his voice on the edge of control.

Michonne's right hand moved slowly up and back, towards her shoulder, as she took another small step forwards. She glared at the man but his eyes traced down her body then back up again.

Pushing the last bit of anger from her mind, Michonne focused everything on her movements, calculating.

"Carl, close your eyes," she said calmly.

The smallest hint of a smile tugged at the edges of her lips. After all, she'd always enjoyed a challenge.

The man's expression began to darken but before he could say another word, Michonne's hand closed around the hilt of her sword. In one fluid motion, she drew the sword and swung it down at an angle.

The blade caught a glint of the morning sunlight and then sliced through the man's skull, a line of red from his left eyebrow to below his right ear.

The man collapsed heavily, knocking Carl to the ground.

"Carl! Carl!" Michonne rushed to shove the man's body out of the way, dropping her sword on the ground beside her.

His breathing ragged, Carl let her pull him up.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked him desperately.

Carl nodded, "I'm okay," he gasped for breath and threw his arms around Michonne.

She hugged him tight and it felt like her heart started to beat again.

"Dad!" Carl gasped, breaking away from the embrace and stumbling over to Rick.

"Dad! Please! Dad!" Carl shook Rick, crying.

Michonne knelt beside Rick. It chilled her to see the amount of blood on his face and neck, soaking the front of his shirt. She carefully ran her hands over Rick's neck, checking for a wound.

"He wasn't bit," Michonne concluded, checking for a pulse, "He's breathing."

Michonne looked around, assessing their situation. Rick was breathing but unconscious. There were three dead men on the ground around them; a man with gray hair with a chunk of his neck missing, a man wearing a blue bandana, and the skinny guy with his skull sliced open.

There were no walkers in the immediate area, but that wouldn't last long.

"Dad, come on, get up!" Carl pleaded.

Focusing on Carl, Michonne could see that the boy was trying hard to hold it together, but he was starting to panic.

"Carl, look at me," Michonne said calmly.

Carl swallowed and wiped his face.

"Listen. We're alive and we're together. We're going to figure this out," Michonne said, "Right now I need you to stand watch."

Carl was still shaken but he nodded, relieved to be given a job to do. He stood up and slowly walked over to where he'd dropped his gun and his hat.

With Carl looking out for anyone else, walker or person, who might stumble into their little section of woods, Michonne prioritized what needed to be done.

She ran her sword through the grey haired man's skull to be sure he wouldn't turn. She gathered the men's weapons and anything else that looked useful.

There were two pistols, a rifle, precious few bullets, a bow and three arrows, assorted hunting knifes, a canteen of water, and a flask of something else.

"Carl..." Rick's voice sounded ragged.

He stirred and tried to sit up.

"Dad! I'm here," Carl rushed over to Rick's side. He looked over at Michonne then back at Rick, "We're all here."

Michonne helped Rick into a sitting position, "Can you walk?"

"I think so... give me a minute," Rick said, wincing.

Michonne and Carl gathered up what they could carry, Rick gathered his strength, and the three survivors picked a direction and set off through the forest.

They walked slowly, Rick leaning heavily on Carl for support. The bullet graze from the battle at the prison had nearly healed before Rick's jump from the tree house tore it open again.

Soon they came upon a large amount of dead walkers and almost turned around but Carl spotted a little boat by the shore of the lake.

"Look," he pointed.

Michonne looked to Rick, who nodded.

"This way," she led them towards the boat, picking her way carefully through the bodies.

Most of the walkers were dead, blown apart by the machine gun they'd heard earlier, but some were still moving, caught under the weight of other fallen corpses or crawling or stumbling around. Any that got too close for comfort were quickly dispatched with a swing of Michonne's sword.

Rick and Carl clambered into the fishing boat. Michonne gave it a shove away from the shore then jumped in. Rick started the engine and they pulled away from shore as more walkers started to filter through the trees towards them.