At this point, Beth is sure she's only survived this far because of some of the things Daryl had taught her. How to make a fire without matches. how to eat whatever you can find. How to catch a snake and cook it, which is exactly what she does when night falls. It's a good thing she's already used to the humid Georgia heat, even if the dryness of the arena's environment parches her throat and cracks her lips. She's not used to how cold it gets the moment the sun goes down.

She's not used to being this alone.

The snake tastes like she burnt it a lot, which probably makes sense since it fell in the fire a couple of times. But it's food, and she's hungry and dirty and exhausted but too afraid to fall asleep out here on her own. With no one to watch her back. It's the silence and the loneliness that gets her, more than anything.

And even though it's probably a little foolish, Beth sings to herself under her breath.

That baby’s a man now he’s toilworn and tough
Still whispers come over the sea
Come back Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff
Oh come home Paddy Reilly to me.

It helps, a little. Even if the sound carries a little and all she's got to her name is a tiny knife. It's the song her dad once wanted her to sing, but she never did. And she'll never get to. So if Beth's eyes sting a little, she tells herself it's from the fire. Because she doesn't get to cry, or be upset.