The archer| Daryl Dixon

02

My head was throbbing, blood seeping down from my forehead, i went to reach up but my hand were tied behind my back.

"She's awake." A gruff voice yelled, my vision was still blurry, my leg throbbing. I looked up and saw two man looking down at me.

I struggled against the rope that bound my hands, breaking the skin of my sensitive wrists the more I struggled. "Let me go." My voice was raspy and dry.

"Do you have a group?" One of the men asked, his voice demanding as he kneeled in front of of me. "Fuck you." I spat still trying to get out of the binds I was in.

"Do you have a group." He repeated, his hand going to my thigh and sticking his thumb in my wounded leg as I cried out in pain.

"Ah! Fuck! No! No! No I don't!" I cried as I jolted forward in pain, he let go and stood back up just as another guy walked in.

"We should just kill her, she could be lyin' for all we know Rick." The man spoke not so quietly, his head was shaved and he shot a glare in my direction.

I decided I did not like him.

"I'm sitting right here asshole." I groaned lifting my head to look at him with a glare. "Look just let me go, I wasn't doin' shit till your boy here shot me." I shifted my glare to the man standing in front of me with a crossbow on his back.

"You ran." He stated, "No shit I ran you pointed your damn weapon at me!" I argued back.

"Look we can help you, we got a friend who can patch you up, you can stay a day, rest and eat then you can go if you want." The man called Rick spoke.

My glare never left his face, but I was hungry. All I could do was nod. "I'm gonna untie you now, you pull anything you're getting a bullet in your brain." Rick spoke as he leaned behind me and cut the rope that bind my wrists with a knife.

I rubbed my sore wrists and stood up, limping as I did. "You'll get your weapons back when we know you won't try to hurt me or my group." Rick stated as his hand gripped my arm and walked me out of the shed.

I squinted from the sun and looked around, seemed to be on some kind of farm. There was a kid sitting on a log, he had a sheriffs hat on his head.

I knew better than to pull shit especially when there were kids.

He handed me over to the man with the crossbow and he gripped my arm dragging me with him inside the big white house.

He left me there, standing in the middle of the walkway of the home, a man walked up to me, his hair was white and so was his beard.

"My names Hershel, this is my farm." He stuck his hand out for me to shake. I glanced at his hand then back up at his face before hesitantly shaking his hand.

"Grace." I muttered, pulling my hand back. He helped me into a bedroom upstairs and began patching my leg up.

I laid in the bed after he left, a fresh bandage wrapped around my thigh and one taped to my forehead.

A knock made me look up and saw a pretty brown haired girl walk in. "Hi I'm Maggie." She smiled holding a tray of food and a water bottle.

She sat beside me on the bed and sat the tray on my lap, almost immediately I dove right in. I didn't leave any crumbs on the plate. I opened the cap of the water and downed it quick, my mouth already feeling better as liquid slid down my throat.

"Thank you." I muttered in which she nodded with a smile. "Is that man downstairs- is he your father?" I questioned wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

She nodded and smiled, "And those people out there" I pointed at the group of people outside through the window.

"We took them in, they were nice and help a lot around here." She spoke, tucking her brown hair behind her ear.

I only nodded and gazed out the window, commotion was heard downstairs and she excused herself.

I sighed and closed my eyes as my head hit the pillow, I'll leave tomorrow, they gave me food and water and a place to rest.

I soon was consumed with darkness.