Scars & Shadows(Daryl x Octavia)

Chpt 5: Uneasy Territory

Chapter 5: Uneasy Territory

The first light of dawn broke through the trees, casting dappled shadows over the clearing where Daryl and Octavia had taken shelter for the night. Octavia, leaning against a tree with her sword resting across her knees, watched as Daryl stirred from his sleep. She'd been on edge all night, every noise making her tense up. But, somehow, knowing Daryl was close by had given her a strange sense of comfort.

He blinked a few times, then sat up, rubbing his eyes before noticing her gaze. "You sleep at all, or were you too busy watchin' the world spin?" he drawled, his voice rough with sleep.

Octavia shrugged, stretching her stiff muscles. "Got enough," she replied. "You snore like a truck, by the way."

Daryl smirked. "Don't recall you bein' around long enough to know that."

Octavia rolled her eyes but felt a flicker of amusement. The brief moment of lightheartedness between them faded as they packed up and prepared to move deeper into the woods.

As they walked, a thick fog settled over the forest, making it harder to see more than a few yards ahead. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, the dense air pressing in around them. They kept their voices low, both aware that out here, they weren't the only hunters.

"Where are we even headed?" Octavia asked, glancing at Daryl as he led the way.

"There's an old cabin 'bout half a day's walk from here. If we're lucky, might find some supplies. Maybe even a map," Daryl replied, keeping his eyes scanning the trees. "World's changed a lot since I last went out this far."

Octavia hesitated, sensing something unspoken in his words. "You ever travel with someone before?"

Daryl grunted, not meeting her gaze. "Had a group once. Folks who had my back, like family. Lost most of 'em, though." His tone was gruff, the pain buried deep but still present.

A pang of sympathy hit her, and she found herself opening up as well. "I know what that's like," she admitted softly. "My brother... he was all I had. And the people I was with... they're gone too." She paused, her voice wavering. "Guess we both know what it's like to be alone."

Daryl cast her a sideways glance, his face softening slightly. "Ain't alone right now, are ya?"

The words lingered between them, an unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, they didn't have to be alone anymore. But before either of them could say more, a distant sound cut through the fog—a crack of branches, the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

Daryl's hand shot up, signaling for Octavia to stop. He crouched down, his senses on high alert as he listened. Octavia mirrored his stance, her sword ready in her grip, her heart pounding.

"You hear that?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

Daryl nodded, motioning for her to stay low as they crept forward, staying close to the cover of the trees. The sound grew louder—a mix of footsteps and low voices. Daryl and Octavia exchanged a look, silently agreeing on a course of action. Whoever was out there, they weren't taking any chances.

They rounded a small bend in the trees, and then Octavia saw them—a group of armed men in rough clothing, standing around what looked like a hastily assembled campsite. The men were laughing and talking, clearly oblivious to any danger. Daryl narrowed his eyes, his grip on his crossbow tightening as he counted them.

"Four... maybe five," he whispered to her. "Might have some supplies. Could be useful."

Octavia nodded, though her gaze was fixed on the men. "You think they're trouble?"

Daryl's lips tightened. "They're takin' too much joy in this world, that's trouble enough."

They shared a silent nod of agreement, and Daryl motioned for her to stay close as they moved forward, sticking to the shadows of the trees. They crept close enough to overhear the men's conversation, bits and pieces of words drifting toward them on the breeze.

"...bunch of stragglers up the ridge. Easy pickings," one of the men was saying, his voice laced with cruelty. "Couldn't even fight back."

The others laughed, a cold, heartless sound that sent a shiver down Octavia's spine. She clenched her fists, anger flaring up at their words. She'd been around people like this before—the ones who preyed on the weak, who took whatever they wanted without a second thought.

Daryl seemed to notice her reaction and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "We're here for supplies, not a fight," he murmured, though his gaze was as hard as steel. "But if they come at us..."

Octavia nodded, understanding the unspoken plan. They'd take what they needed and leave, but if these men tried anything, they wouldn't hesitate.

Moving silently, Daryl and Octavia split up, circling the campsite from opposite sides to get a better view. Daryl kept his crossbow ready, his eyes locked on the man closest to him. Octavia, her grip steady on her sword, positioned herself near a small pack lying by the fire—it looked like it held food, maybe even a weapon or two.

But just as she reached out, her fingers barely grazing the edge of the pack, one of the men looked up, his eyes going wide as he spotted her. "Hey! Who the hell are you?"

In an instant, Daryl stepped out of the shadows, crossbow raised and aimed directly at the man's chest. "Think you'd better leave that question alone."

The campsite went deadly quiet, the men freezing as they registered the danger in Daryl's voice, the deadly calm in his stance. Octavia rose to her full height, her sword gleaming in the faint light as she leveled it at the group.

One of the men, seemingly the leader, sneered, eyeing them with a dangerous glint. "Two of you against five of us? You got guts, I'll give you that. But it ain't gonna save you."

Daryl smirked, the kind of smile that held a warning. "Wouldn't bet on it."

In a flash, the campsite erupted into chaos. One of the men lunged at Daryl, but he sidestepped easily, slamming the butt of his crossbow into the attacker's face. Octavia spun, her blade cutting through the air as she faced down another man, her movements quick and precise. She blocked his swing and countered, her sword slicing through his defenses with practiced ease.

The fight was brief but brutal. Daryl and Octavia moved like a well-oiled machine, covering each other's backs as they took down the attackers with swift, efficient strikes. Within moments, the remaining men had fled, their laughter replaced by fear.

As the dust settled, Daryl lowered his crossbow, glancing at Octavia, who was breathing hard, her eyes fierce and bright. They shared a look, a silent acknowledgment of what they'd just done.

"Not bad," she said, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Daryl snorted, his usual stoic expression softening for a moment. "You ain't too bad yourself."

They gathered the supplies they'd scavenged—a few cans of food, a couple of knives, and a map that Daryl quickly stashed in his pocket. As they set off once more, a comfortable silence settled between them, the bond of shared danger strengthening their growing connection.

By the time night fell, they'd found shelter in the cabin Daryl had mentioned, a modest but sturdy structure hidden deep within the trees. As they settled in, both of them tending to their weapons in the flickering firelight, Octavia glanced over at Daryl, feeling a newfound respect for him.

Maybe, just maybe, they weren't so alone after all.