Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

WEIGHT OF THE WORLD

Daryl's POV

Sitting around the campfire, I couldn't help but glance at Kennedy every few seconds. The flickering light cast shadows on her face, highlighting the weariness etched into her features. Beth sat across from us, her face a mix of determination and desperation. The day's events had taken a toll on all of us.

Kennedy winced as I gently lifted her shirt, revealing the bruises marring her ribs. My gaze then shifted to the bruise forming around her throat and the cut on her cheekbone. She looked downcast, her eyes heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.

"What did he do to you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She just shook her head, wiping away a single tear that slipped from her eye. The pain in her expression was deeper than the physical injuries; it was the pain of loss and helplessness.

"We should do something," Beth's voice broke the silence, her tone urgent and filled with a need for action. "We should do something. We aren't the only survivors. We can't be. Rick, Michonne, they could be out here. Maggie and Glenn could have made it out of A block. They could've."

Kennedy and I didn't respond, the reality of our situation weighing heavily on us. The truth was, we didn't know who had made it out or what had become of our friends. The uncertainty was suffocating.

Beth stood, her frustration bubbling over. "Daryl, you're a tracker. You can track. Come on. The sun will be up soon. If we head out now, we can-" She trailed off as we both avoided her eyes, unable to muster the energy to argue. "Fine. If you won't track, I will," she declared, her voice shaking with determination. She turned and marched off into the forest, her silhouette quickly swallowed by the darkness.

I sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Standing up, I moved to put out the fire, the embers hissing softly as they were extinguished. The night grew darker, the chill in the air a reminder of how vulnerable we were.

"Come on," I said, holding my hand out to Kennedy. She took it, her movements slow and painful. Her ribs were clearly giving her trouble, but she didn't complain.

Supporting her as best I could, we began to follow Beth in slow pursuit. The forest was silent, the only sounds being our footsteps and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Each step was a reminder of our precarious situation, but we couldn't let Beth go off alone.

We caught up to Beth and continued wandering aimlessly throughout the night. I kept a close eye on Kennedy, seeing the exhaustion and pain in her eyes, but she refused to complain. Beth was relentless, driven by a desperate need to find our friends, and Kennedy, as stubborn as ever, pushed herself to keep up.

As the first light of dawn began to break, I knelt down and swiped away some leaves, revealing a pair of footprints. The sight brought a small glimmer of hope.

"Could be Luke's. Or Molly's. Whoever they are, it means they're alive," Beth said, her voice filled with a mix of hope and desperation.

I examined the tracks closely. "No. This means they were alive four or five hours ago," I corrected, my voice steady.

"They're alive," Beth insisted, her hope unwavering.

Without another word, she took off, following the footsteps with renewed energy. I turned and whistled at Kennedy, who was leaning against a tree with her eyes closed, struggling to catch her breath.

"You good?" I asked, concern lacing my voice.

She nodded, though her exhaustion was evident. "Gotta be," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.