One way or another [Daryl Dixon]

[7] HUNTER VS PREY.

"As long as you are unable to access the power of the now, every emotional pain that you experience leaves behind a residue of pain that lives on in you."
-Eckhart Tolle

"Open the gate!" Maggie yelled from the top of the guard tower.

As the car approached the prison's gates it kicked up dust and dirt. The engine shut down, creating a quieter, calmer atmosphere within the group. I was the first to step out of the vehicle, scanning the crowd, and trying to recall everyone's names. Carl had told me what they looked like on the way back, which helped a little.

"Glenn right?" I asked.

He gave a small nod of approval. "We have some bags in the trunk that are full of guns, and ammunition. Could you lend me a hand?" I used to avoid asking other people questions because I was afraid of being judged. Although, when I mentioned ammunition, his lips curled into a small smile and he moved to the back of the car, unloading it all.

Following Glenn to the boot, I watched as he opened the car and his face lit up with the biggest smile. He looked at me with a shocked expression on his face.

"Where did you find all of this?" Glenn inquired while inspecting the firearms.

I laughed as I returned his smile. "I guess we got lucky."

Rick was carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder, attempting to mask the pain of the bleeding stab wound.

"I'll take it. Go inside and have Hershel fix it up.". As I walked over to Rick, I gestured with my hands to his wound. He handed the bag over hesitantly and mouthed a quick 'thank you' before heading inside. The rest of the group followed.

"Damn sunshine, ya gonna need an army with all those guns." Merle made a remark as we sat the duffle bags down, opening them to reveal their contents.

"We don't need an army Merle; we just need good tactics." I simply informed him, and he let out a small chuckle as a result.

After everyone had sat down, they began rummaging through the duffle bags to see what we had brought back from the run. Their faces were etched with joy at the sight of a minor victory. I had a rough idea of what was in the bags, so I decided to use this time to go up to my cell, check on my wound, and sort out a few of my personal matters.

Sitting on the bunk I quickly slipped my shirt off, my gaze drawn to the dirt splattered with both human and corpse blood that covered my shirt. I removed the small gauze pad and examined the healing wound. My bullet wound was already bruising, and scabbing over. Also, Moving my shoulders no longer hurt. Hershel had told me that after this gauze, I wouldn't need any more and that the wound would take care of the rest. Taking his advice, I re-applied my shirt and began packing a small bag for a quick hunting trip.