in a dark meadow -- daryl dixon

find me

word count: 7062

"Dale could get under your skin."

They gathered around the freshly dug grave the following morning, a bundle of wildflowers and a cross assembled from sticks placed at the head of the burial site. Avery stood beside Andrea, holding onto the blonde woman's arm and letting the wind toss her hair in front of her face. Rick stood at the center of their circle, delivering an honest eulogy.

"He sure got under mine. 'Cause he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought, how he felt. That kind of honesty is rare and brave. Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look to Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look. We've all seen it one time or another. I couldn't always read him, but he could read us - the truth, who we really are. In the end, he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken. The best way to honor him is to unbreak it. Stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives, our safety, our future. We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on, we're gonna do it his way. That's how we honor Dale."

Silence blanketed the group after Rick's speech as they ingested his words and reminisced in their own memories of Dale. Avery didn't want Dale to become a martyr to his words, but she was grateful a piece of him would be kept with their group going forward - with every decision and every challenge.

Her eyes fell on Carl, who was weeping softly beside his mother, and Avery felt a small piece of her break again. Apparently Rick had spared Randall the other night because his son walked in on the execution, practically pleading for his father to pull the trigger. It was a nasty image, and Avery had to keep her expression even when Lori told her about it earlier that morning. This world pulled the little boy's emotions in a million different directions. How could he have space to grow as a boy when the people around him were falling dead?

Daryl snuck a glance at Avery, expecting tears. Her eyes were red but she did not cry, standing strong against the wind. She'd released all of her grief last night.

He hadn't slept well. His head had been perched at an awkward angle and his arm had gone numb, but he wouldn't dare move from his position and disturb the sleeping woman on his chest. Last night she'd been small, vulnerable, and sought comfort from him. There were a few times he had to blink himself back into reality, not really believing that someone like her was curled up in his arms. Her pale face shone in the dark of his tent, long eyelashes fanning over her cheeks and her dark hair tossed around her head like a halo. He'd been unable to resist brushing her hair back when it fell over her neck, relieved that she wasn't awake to witness it.

He was awake when she stirred next to him that morning. She stretched lightly, eyes fluttering open. There was a flash of alarm in her body language when she didn't immediately recognize her surroundings, but when she looked up at him with her tousled hair, Daryl swore he fell in love with those sleepy eyes.

Avery greeted him with a shy grin and rose to get ready for the day, her face flushed pink. The two of them shuddered when their bodies separated and they parted from each other's warmth. Daryl laced his boots while Avery rolled up her sleeping bag, part of him wanting to tell her to just leave it. She bid him goodbye over her shoulder and exited his tent, making her way back to her own.

He crawled out of his tent shortly after her, watching her cross the field. As she walked, she shoved one hand in her back pocket, the other holding her sleeping bag tight against her side. She strode comfortably, as if she did not care what others thought if they saw her leaving his tent. He realized then that he'd give up feeling in both of his arms to spend another night with her.