That night the quarry camp was alive with conversation.
Sophia's return had lifted everyone's spirits.
Food was shared.
Stories were told.
Even laughter returned to the campfire.
But not everyone felt comfortable.
Shane Walsh sat on the hood of a truck watching the masked teenager across the fire.
Shane Walsh had been a police officer for years.
He knew how to read people.
And something about Ghost didn't sit right with him.
Rick sat down beside him.
"You're staring again."
Shane shrugged.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
Shane gestured toward Ghost.
"That kid."
Rick sighed slightly.
"He saved Sophia."
"I know."
Shane leaned forward.
"But that's not what bothers me."
Rick looked at him.
"Then what does?"
Shane spoke quietly.
"You saw how he moves."
Rick nodded.
"Yeah."
"That's not normal."
Rick remained silent.
Shane continued.
"He fights like special forces."
Rick thought about the knife strikes.
The calm movements.
The way Ghost had tracked Sophia through the forest.
"You think he was military?"
Shane shook his head.
"No."
Rick frowned.
"Why not?"
"Because he's too young."
Across the camp Carl watched Ghost sharpening his knife.
The boy walked over again.
"You really found Sophia just by footprints?"
Ghost nodded.
Carl crouched beside him.
"Can you teach me?"
Ghost paused.
Then looked at him.
"Why?"
Carl thought for a moment.
"So I can help."
Ghost studied the boy carefully.
Carl wasn't scared.
He wasn't pretending either.
He genuinely wanted to be useful.
Ghost finally spoke.
"One day."
Carl smiled.
"When?"
Ghost stood up.
"When survival becomes necessary."
Carl scratched his head.
"That sounds complicated."
Ghost walked toward the forest again.
Watching.
Always watching.
Behind him Shane whispered to Rick.
"See?"
Rick crossed his arms.
"See what?"
"That kid doesn't think like a normal person."
Rick looked toward the masked figure standing alone in the dark.
For once…
He wasn't sure how to answer.