Separated from her family, and weakened by the winter, Maevys Grimes is doing everything she can to stay alive. The prospect of finding them keeps her moving, but walking corpses were no longer the only danger survivors faced. The evil of man change...
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What a relief it was to wake up beside her, to feel the soft rise and fall of her chest as she soundly slept in his arms. At times it felt as if she might have risen from the dead, like her existence here was by some miracle. Losing her had been the most intense grief he'd ever felt, as if a piece of him had been torn from his body. But he had her now, safely curled into his chest.
"I'm never getting up," Maeve groans as she stirs. Daryl smiles, shifting to let her roll over and face him. Maevys scrunches her nose, stretching her arms over her head. "I think I'll lay here and rot," she mumbles as she tucks her face into the crook of his neck.
"And miss out on all the fun?" Daryl jests, his hands disappearing underneath the back of her shirt to lightly stroke her skin.
"Mmm," Maevys hums, her eyes fluttering closed. "That'll put me back to sleep," she yawns.
"How are you feelin?" Daryl asks her, pressing his lips to the top of her head.
"Better," she assures, leaning back to look up at him. "My throats less swollen, head doesn't hurt so bad anymore either."
"How about these?" Daryl reaches up to touch her bandaged wrist that lay on his shoulder.
"They itch," she scoffs, lacing her fingers through his and bringing their hands between them. Maeve noticed then the slight red stain on his knuckles and looked at him curiously. "What's this?"
Daryl hesitates to answer her, chewing his lip before muttering "had a talk with Merle."
Maevys presses her eyes closed, a sigh escaping her nose. "You didn't have to do that," she mumbles.
"Nah," he says instantly, looking intensely into her hazel eyes as they flitted open. "I did."
"Think he'll help us today?" She asks, pressing a kiss to his fingers as a silent thank you.
"Yeah," he replies simply, rolling onto his back as Maevys slips from his arms and sits on the edge of the cot.
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"I keep forgetting," she tells him, pulling her pack closer and digging through it. After a moment of throwing old clothes into the corner of the room she produces the flannel, turning to him with a smile. Maevys waits for him to finish rubbing his eyes, enjoying the look of surprise that spread across his tired face as he saw the garment.
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