in a dark meadow -- daryl dixon

do right by you

word count: 3191

"You should come with us."

Avery awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. She could tell she slept in - the sun at a higher point in the day than she was used to, as she quickly dressed herself for the day. Squinting under the harsh sunlight, she settled under her tent canopy and began lacing her shoes. Their camp was already in full motion - Carol cooked eggs on an open skillet, Shane, Rick, and Jimmy discussed trail perimeters, and T-dog was mercilessly bothering her about joining their gun training that afternoon.

"Pass."

T-dog hovered over her, growing inpatient. "You need to know how to handle a gun."

Avery finished lacing her shoes and pushed herself up from the ground, swatting away loose grass that clung to her pants. "Do I?"

"You need to know how to defend yourself." He tried reasoning with her as he helped Dale expand the RV's canopy. "Can't kill a walker with a flower."

Avery grumbled something under her breath, knowing there was no way she would be able to bail out on training. The idea of handling a gun made her extremely uncomfortable. She'd seen what men looked like on the other end - how easily life could be flipped over or silenced with a bullet. The reasonable part of her knew the days of discomfort and social issues were over. She hated guns. She needed to learn how to use one.

Glenn walked over to the trio carrying a large wooden crate. Avery peered inside, delighted to see a pile of fresh peaches. She pulled one out, tracing her fingers along the skin of the fruit.

"'Sup?" T-dog casually acknowledged Glenn as he reached into the crate to help himself.

Glenn's eyes went wide. "Nothing. Nothing's up, why?"

The three of them stopped what they were doing to look at the nervous young man, simultaneously wondering what prompted such a spastic response. Avery stared hard at him, as if willing Glenn to communicate with her telepathically. Why was he acting so weird? He wouldn't meet her eye and he carried the crate away from them as quickly as possible.

Avery caught Andrea exit Daryl's tent, her desperation to make it up to the crossbow-wielder seemingly lifted, as there was a tilt to her lip as she walked away. Biting her lip, Avery jogged back over to Glenn, grabbed an extra peach, and paused outside of Daryl's tent. Was she supposed to knock or something?

"No loiterin'." His voice was loud and clear through the open flap of his tent. Avery smiled before ducking her head and carefully stepping inside. He laid on top of his sleeping bag, toying with one of his crossbow bolts in his fingers. There wasn't room for her to stand, so she awkwardly lowered herself down to her feet, pushing herself as far as she could in the corner of his tent. She noticed the bandaging on his head was removed.

"You seem to be healing quick."

He shrugged. "Had a decent nurse."

The heat of their proximity to one another was suddenly stifling. He shifted his lying position, his buttoned shirt falling open and revealing his bare chest. She cleared her throat, remembering the extra fruit in her hand and holding it out to him.

"Here." She shoved it into his hand, losing her nerve. "Have one. After a month of canned fruit, these taste heavenly."

He took the peach from her hand, but didn't eat it right away. He cradled it in his hand. He tilted his head toward the tent opening. "You goin' out today?"

Avery nodded. "Gun training."

He snorted, "Bet that'll be a sight."

She glared at him, fighting a smile. "That's rude. You never know, I might be a natural gunslinger."