Between Arrows and Hearts - Daryl Dixon

A smart man

Daryl had been up since dawn. After taking care of what needed doing and scarfing down a quick bite, he settled himself outside his tent, busying his hands with his arrows. Either cleaning the ones he had or fletching new ones.

Merle, who'd woken not long after, sat next to him, picking at his breakfast. The quiet between them was quickly broken by the unmistakable rumble of Shane's jeep tearing into the center of camp.

Shane hopped out, hollering loud enough for everyone to hear. "Water's here, y'all! Just a reminder to boil before use!"

Daryl glanced up, just in time to see Cass climbing out of the passenger seat, laughing at something Shane had said. Her smile lingered, easy and bright, her voice carrying lightly over the camp.

Merle leaned back, smirking like he'd already figured the punchline. "Told 'ya, little brother. Bet she's been keepin' that cop real entertained all mornin', makin' sure he stays plenty motivated to keep her safe."

Daryl didn't answer, his jaw tightening as he focused on the arrow in his hands.

Taking the silence as an open door, Merle kept going.  "Bet she'll be off to sweet-talk the Chinaman next. Gotta keep him bringin' her whatever she needs from the city."

Merle chuckled, leaning in closer. "A few more days, baby brother. We snag some food, maybe a couple weapons. Then we don't gotta look at these folks' ugly mugs no more."

Without a word, Daryl stood, grabbing his gear from the tent. "I'm headin' to the woods," His voice came out curt, clipped. "See if there's somethin' worth bringing back for dinner." He grabbed his crossbow and pack, slinging them over his shoulder without looking back.

He didn't wait for Merle's reply. By the time his brother opened his mouth, Daryl was already striding toward the treeline, letting the forest swallow Merle's voice whole.

The woods were quieter. Easier to think out there, or not think, if that's what he needed. He wasn't really hunting, not yet. He just kept moving, boots crunching the undergrowth, putting distance between himself and Merle's grating voice.

A faint noise ahead made him stop. His instincts kicked in, muscles tensing as he crept closer. It didn't take him long to figure out what he'd stumbled into—or who.

Cass.

Same damn spot where they'd run into each other before. Only this time, she wasn't alone.

That Ben kid was with her, the one who was always trailing after her like a lost puppy. Daryl had seen him around camp, hadn't talked to him, though. Didn't need to. Pretty boy looked like he belonged on some kinda magazine cover with that easy smile and stupid blond hair. Merle called him "Little Prince." Daryl figured it fit.

The kid was talking, his voice carrying through the clearing. "I'm serious! That rabbit he brought the first week was great, but I'm getting real tired of squirrel meat."

Daryl felt his jaw clench. He adjusted his grip on his crossbow, resisting the urge to step out and show Ben just what kind of "meat" he oughta be worried about.

Cass wasn't saying much, just listening, but eventually she spoke, her voice calm. "I don't know, Ben. I'm just glad we've got food."

Ben, clearly fishing for something else, tried again. "Yeah, sure. I get it." He scratched at the back of his neck, stepping a little closer to her. "But maybe... you and I could come out here sometime. See if we can get somethin' better."

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he caught the shift in Ben's stance, the way his hand hovered too close to Cass's hip. 

Merle's voice crawled back into his head. "Let me tell 'ya somethin' 'bout girls like her. They're trouble. All that sweetness and charm, gettin' all the men to do anything for 'em."