I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO TWD. THE ONLY CHARACTER I Own is my OC, her family, pet, what have you. I DON'T OWN THE RIGHTS TO ANY OF THE MUSIC LINKED. A Walking Dead fanfic focusing mostly on my OC and the Dixon's, especially before the death of Merl...
"If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and man." – Mark Twain
REMI
More twigs snapping, and then a low, familiar bark. Remy reached over, pushing down the man's crossbow as a smile spread wide across her face. She started to tear up. "Dax!" She got down on her knees, her arms held wide.
"The hell is that? A bear?!"
"Close," she said as the enormous black dog ran into her arms, wiggling at her affection. "This is Dax," she ran her hands from the tip of his grey muzzle, down his face and to his soft ruff. She buried her face into his ruff, smelling the earthy scent of dirt and the sun. "He's an oldie but a goldie!", she added.
"That thangs a dog?! Must weigh 100lbs or more! What do you feed it?" His eyes were wide. He had always liked dogs, but he wasn't sure he had ever seen one this size. More like a horse than a dog.
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"He eats whatever he catches. Don't worry, he has yet to eat a person," she chuckled at her own joke. The beast settled in by the fire, starting to beg for squirrel. "You're incorrigible," she told the dog. Daryl tossed him a handful of innards. Dax was more than happy to accept. "You don't have to do that," she said. "I know you were saving those for bait."
"Don't want him hungry. Might get ideas." His mouth turned up in a half smile as he continued staring at the spit.
"Good thinking."
Just then, the older Dixon stepped back into the camp, a few more dry branches in his hands.
"Well ain't this cozy——what the hell is that?!" His eyes focused on the big mutt guarding the gut pile with his tongue lolling out happily.
"A Dax." Remy replied simply.
"Little brother, are we taking this one to raise or something? Ain't got time for a simpering woman and her dog. Gotta keep moving, just like the old days." Then addressing Remy: "Look, hon it's been nice an' all and it's a welcome break from lookin' at his ugly a** for sure, but we're leaving out first thing in the morning. Can't have ya slowin' us down."
"That's alright. I'm grateful for the company for the night anyway and—"
"She won't." Daryl cut in.
"What? Speak up princess."
"She won't slow us down. We can take her on with us." He got up and started stringing their perimeter with cans.
"It's really ok," Remy said simply. "I mean I don't wanna bother y'all anymore than I have. And I have Dax now. Thought I'd never see him again when we got separated. I'm grateful y'all have put up with me this long. It's lonely out here but I'll be ok."
"Well then that's settled!", Merle exclaimed. "Tomorrow we break camp, and get hunting."
"She can trap." The older brothers eyebrows went up slightly at that. Daryl continued, "She been out 'ere this long, managed to feed herself and steer clear of the rotters. She ain't gonna slow us down. I can get 'er to the prison. To the others. Then we head back out."
"Well! Looks like my little brother has a crush on the Jesus Freak. How 'bout that? You always were a soft one Darylina! Well, I guess it won't hurt to have someone to talk to." He looked back at Remy. "Yunno, I don't think he's EVER spoken that much in his miserable life."
The rest of the night went on that way. Merle talking at the both of them, but mostly to himself. With the sun fully down, Remy made her way to her shelter and settled in with her mutt. She slept better than she had in a while, knowing the dog's keen senses would pick up on any threat.
