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chapter seventy-seven | the claimed
DARYL HATED THEM. He cursed and made fun of the claimers (that's what they called themselves, he doesn't know why) in his head anytime they spoke. To get some peace and quiet, he woke up before dawn and slipped out of their makeshift campsite as quickly and quietly as he could. Which wasn't very hard, he's always been able to stay quiet.
He has been hunting for almost an hour locally, not straying too far. He doesn't know why he's sticking with them. But whoever they are, it beats being alone. He doesn't know what happened to Beth, she was long gone no matter if he could figure out which way the car turned down that stupid road. Guilt.
That's all he feels now.
He left Laurel. He left Beth. Rick, Glenn, Ethan, Cassie... Everyone. It's all his fault. Beth was wrong, they aren't alive. They can't be. And It's all his fault.
He shook the thoughts away and kept walking, raising his crossbow every so often at the sound of an animal. The forest wasn't very full of life, and his stomach growled at the thought of food. He kept going.
Finally, a rabbit scurries across his path. He raised his crossbow, aiming down the sights before pulling the trigger, just as an arrow flew past him. Both arrows cut through the rabbit easily, killing the poor thing quickly. He turned and glared at the fucker.
He knew he was there, heard him coming from a mile away and that was why the rabbit was scurrying away. He did that shit on purpose.
"What the hell you doin'?" Daryl growled.
"Catchin' me some breakfast," the smart-ass replied. He had shaggy black hair, a big ass forehead, and a beard. Shit personality, too.
Daryl shook his head, walking towards the dead animal, "that's mine."
"My arrow's the one that hit first," the asshole argued. "Cottontail belongs to me."
Daryl bent down beside the kill, yanking out both of their arrows and grabbing its back legs. "Been out here since before the sun came up," he said as he stood, facing the asshole.
"You see, the rules of the hunt don't mean jack out here. Now, that rabbit you're holding is claimed, boy." As the asshole said the last word, Daryl flung his arrow away. The asshole watched it land a few feet away. "Claimed whether you like it or not. So if I was you, I'd hand it over. Now, or you gonna wish you didn't get out of bed this mornin'."
Daryl walked forward, toward him, as he threatened him. This asshole was nothin' but a nuisance.
"It ain't yours," Daryl mumbled. His voice was coarse but monotone. Because he doubted this guy would follow through with his pathetic threats and if he did, he's just something scrawny.
"You know, I'll bet this bitch got you all messed up, hmm?" The asshole smirked at him. Daryl's hand tightened around the rabbit while the other clenched into a fist. Daryl didn't want to fight, didn't want to kill anybody. He started to walk past him and the asshole kept talking. "Am I right? Got you walkin' around here like a dead man who just lost himself a piece of tail."
