Daryl hadn't slept more than a couple of hours since the hospital. Closing his eyes meant seeing her face. Blue eyes, wide smile, streams of yellow hair. When that happened, he would look to the dark room and take in the quiet. It was still dark when he picked up the crossbow lying by his side. He walked over the others, careful not to make a sound. Opening the barn door, Daryl slipped out into the blue dawn. Here, in the cold exterior of the Georgia forest, he was home. This was where he belonged.
As the others slept soundly inside, he crept out to the treeline. Hunting had become such a habit that it took him half a mile to realize he wasn't hungry. He hadn't been hungry in days. It didn't matter. He would kill squirrels for the others. He just needed to shoot something.
He stopped at the path when something stirred in the brush to his right. He pulled the crossbow from his back and quietly set it in his arms. The rabbit hopped from the greenery, completely unaware of his presence. Daryl lined his sights with the animal and fired.
He moved to it and bent down, but he stopped before picking it up. He watched the blood ooze from the wound and fall along the fur. The rabbit's eyes remained open.
#
"What's your favorite thing to do?" Beth asked. It was probably the ninth question she'd asked in the last two hours of walking. He mostly deflected them or just ignored her outright. Every time he turned around she seemed to be having trouble navigating through the mud or avoiding sharp twigs sticking up from the ground. But he had to admit, he was almost impressed. He never would have thought Beth of all people could keep up with him.
"Survive," he finally answered. She clicked her tongue and sighed.
"What do you get out of never saying anything? Is your air supply attached to your vocal chords? If you talk you die or something?"
"What do you get outa talkin' all the time?"
"I don't talk all the time."
He quickly stopped and lifted a hand, she stumbled and froze behind him. Ahead, a shadow broke the light between distant trees. Daryl took the crossbow, she pulled her knife from her belt and held tight to it. A deer stepped into view. He lowered the weapon. "Just a damn deer."
"You're not gonna kill it right?"
"Too big," he said. "We ain't got the right-"
Beth screamed, he spun, a walker lunged at the girl from behind, knocking her to the mud. From the side, two more blind-sided Daryl, their teeth inches from his arm. Beth screamed again but he couldn't help her. He kicked the first walker in the knee, shattering its leg and sending it crumbling to the ground, he stomped on its head. As much as he wanted to use the crossbow on the second walker, it was too close and was moving fast. It was fresh, full of muscle. Daryl grabbed its head from behind as it opened its mouth just over his shoulder. He pulled the hair hard enough to bring the teeth a full foot away from him. He reached into the crossbow quiver and pulled an arrow out, as fast as he could, he rammed it through the walker's eye until he felt the resistance of its brain. The walker dropped limp and Darryl snatched the arrow back, he twisted to the side, ready to kill the walker over Beth, before he even saw her, he knew she would be dead.
Beth stood in front of him, mud and blood covering her clothes, still clinging to the knife in her palm. The walker that had attacked her lay facedown, three narrow holes in its head. She didn't say anything, only stood there, breathing fire.
He scanned her up and down. No scratches, no bites. She was alive, and standing there, hair stuck to her face like thin yellow ropes, she looked strong. She looked like a survivor.
