in a dark meadow -- daryl dixon

frog's legs

word count: 4627

A week had passed since the car accident, and the camp carried on with relative ease.

Avery spent the first few days bored out of her mind. With only one functioning arm, there wasn't much she could do with herself. Helplessly, she watched Lori and Carol resume the laundry and other chore work, while T-dog retrieved water, Glenn and Maggie went on supply runs (or so they said), and Andrea, Shane, Rick, and Daryl rotated patrol. Displeased by her lack of involvement, Avery tried to bury herself into the crappy book Daryl had passed along to her. Flipping through the worn paperback, she'd read a couple chapters of the story before giving up, staring at the sun shine through her nylon ceiling for a few minutes, before giving the book another try. When she grew tired of that rotation, she'd wander the farmland, count livestock, and walk the dirt road. Twice a day she'd sit in the farmhouse to ice her shoulder, striking up conversation with whoever was working in the kitchen or sitting on the porch. Sometimes she'd join whoever was on patrol on top of the RV, watching the slow pull of the day from beneath an umbrella.

Then Hershel finally gave her permission to remove the sling. Stiffness and pain followed, as she slowly tested her movement limitations. She somehow recruited Dale to help her with daily mobility exercises as she impatiently tried to build up her strength. He found sticks and filled unused water bottles with rocks as weights. Avery felt an appreciation bloom within her as he seemed to take her recovery process seriously. They exchanged stories and she got to know him better - his early life in Atlanta and the love that had unfolded between him and his late wife Irma. She had died from cancer before the outbreak, and he had purchased the RV for a road trip they'd planned on taking together. When Avery had a glistened look in her eye, Dale told her not to feel sorry for him. To experience a love like Irma's, no matter how brief, had been the best part of his life. On hearing those words, Avery's tears threatened to fall faster.

She'd been forbidden from the barn where Randall was being held. Somebody was always positioned outside of the barn doors, and they'd promptly turn Avery away like she was being denied entry to a club. Avery thought that was odd, and whenever she tried to extract information about the prisoner from someone else, they'd grow quiet, as if there wasn't anything to know. While Avery spent a majority of her time focusing on her recovery, that question lingered in the back of her mind - what were they planning to do with him?

She gave Daryl space. He'd checked up on her a couple times, one time to give her the book, and another to check on her arm, but she didn't venture out to his encampment. She'd spent a lot of time deconstructing their conversation - when she told him that she wanted to get to know him. His face had tensed when she said that. It was subtle, but Avery noticed the shift in his expression. He was a complex man with a cryptic past. Avery could fill in some of the blanks with the little information he had indulged her in, and knew he wasn't someone who willingly opened himself up to others.

She wasn't angry, but maybe ashamed of herself. A part of her had thought they'd been through enough and she supposed she had expected... something else.

Selfish. She chastised herself.

"What's with the face?"

Avery dropped her scowl. "I'm not making a face."

"You were definitely making a face."

Avery found herself in the stables that morning, helping Glenn and Maggie prep their horses for their supply run. Avery carefully led them out of their wooden pens, while Glenn lifted the saddles and Maggie buckled the straps. The sun was bright on their fur, appearing like brown velvet as Avery took a moment to admire them, running her hand along its long muzzle. Gazing over at the camp, she noted Shane's SUV was missing, and the barn doors swung idly on their hinges. It seemed Rick finally made his promise to send Randall on his way, dropping him off far away at an undisclosed location.