Survive - Daryl Dixon - Follow The Plot Fanfic

Nine

"Well, lookit here."

I glance at Daryl to see his eyes already on me.

As one man moves forward to him. Daryl shifts his weight a little, punches the man in the face and grabs his crossbow, getting up whilst pointing it at him all in one smooth movement. I draw my gun and stand with my back on Daryl's, holding it up, ready.

The man, now on the floor yells "Dammit! Hold up!" As all the other men raise their weapons and point them as the two of us.

The man stood just in front of me announces.

"I'm claimin' the vest, I like them wings."

Another beside i'm announces something far more disturbing, something that chilled me to my core.

"If he's dying, then I'm claiming this little lady." 

I sense Daryl tense up at those words, all eyes on me, making me feel like a piece of meat.

"Hold. Up." The ringleader commands, putting his hand up to his nose, then looking at the blood on his fingers, he starts to laugh and get up. 

"A bowman. I respect that. See, a man with a rifle could've been some kind of Photographer, or Soccer coach back in the day but, a bowman's a bowman. Through and through." He doesn't move, he just looks at Daryl as he talks.

"What've you got there? 150-pound draw weight? I'll be donkey licked if that don't fire at least 300 feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that. Of course, I'd want one with a bit more ammo and, uh, minus the oblongata stains." The main man monologues.

The creep that claimed Daryl's vest starts to chuckle. "You get yourself in some trouble partner?"

"You pull that trigger, theses boys are gonna drop you several times over. That what you want? Come on fella, suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people. Name's Joe."

After a few seconds of contemplation, Daryl lowers his weapon. "Daryl."

I lower my weapon and everyone else does too.

"And what's your name little lady?" Calls the man that 'claimed' me.

Daryl wraps his arm around my waist, glaring at him. I cringe a little at the name.

"Don't. Call me that. It's Robyn." I lean my back against Daryl's, trying to find some comfort.

The next morning, I wake to Daryl stroking my arm gently. Why's he awake? It's still dark.

"Mornin' Princess, I need to go huntin', but I ain't leaving you here alone with these sorry sacks of shit, so come on." He stands up straight and picks up his crossbow. 

I sit up and rub my face, then get up and look around at the sleeping men, playfully and silently pretending to shoot each of them with finger guns before I walk off into the woods 'double-tapping' the one that 'claimed' me for good measure, making Daryl smile just a little.

After an hour or so the sun comes up. Daryl has his Crossbow raised as he stalks a rabbit with me not far behind. I watch him as he concentrates, but just as he pulls the trigger another arrow flies past his face and hits the rabbit.

We turn to see the creep that claimed Daryl's jacket, his compound bow held up.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Daryl asks, frustrated.

"Catching me some breakfast." The creep replies calmly.

"Well it's mine." Daryl insists.

"My arrows the one that hit first. Cottontail belongs to me."