Trouble ▪ Daryl Dixon [UNDER EDITING]

4 [EDITED]

The smell of burning wood wafted Rose's senses as she planted her feet firmly on the mushy ground.

Pain shot up through her leg and she let out a groan, her hand flying to the bandages.

Daryl stood beside her, quietly. He watched the girl clench her eyes shut and grit her teeth in pain.

Rose's eyes located the knife that was safely tucked away in her boot, she knew she could make the move but there was no telling how far she'd get due to her leg.

"Come on." Daryl said, shoving the girl forward only to receive a scowl in return.

"I can walk by myself, asshole." She barked, her eyes turning dangerously dark.

"Doesn't seem like it." Daryl muttered.

Daryl and Rose joined the rest of the group that was illuminated by the fire. She watched Daryl sit down and she stood off to the side.

She spotted her gun and the rest of her belongings on a makeshift table. The wheels in her mind beginning to turn.

"You guys got a bathroom?" She asked, to no one in particular.

"Those bushes makes a pretty nice one, cupcake." Merle Dixon chimed, a permanent grimace planted on his face. He wasn't too happy with Rose's arrival.

Daryl scowled at his brother for his harshness and watched Rose scramble over to the bushes.

He knew something was off. She was acting unusually vulnerable and injured then she had earlier.

The group seemed to pay no attention to her as she slipped her weapons back in their holsters and slung her backpack over her back.

With quiet toes and watchful eyes, she began a start off into the woods.

She didn't wanna have to kill this group, but she knew her lust would overtake her. It always did.

Her eyes danced between breathing bodies for the bodies she usually saw weren't breathing.

Her eyes darted to the children laughing at something someone had said.

Her eyes softened. The kids were too pure for this world. Her mind reeled back to her sister, blood splattering the wall. Her cries, the gunshots.

Rose shook the thought out of her head and quickly whipped around, breaking off into a run.

Her weapons jiggled with each bouncy step.

Soon, she found herself sitting on the stump of a tree, gnawing on some old beef jerky. The comforting hum of insects surrounding her.

A blood curdling scream broke through the silence and it almost scared her. If only she hadn't been used to screams.

Her body acted before her mind did, following quickly in the directions of the screams.

In front of her stood the 2 kids from earlier, a snacker hot on their trail.

Unsheathing her machete, she took its head off with one flick of her wrist.

The children clung to each other. Face damp with tears and sobs erupting from their mouthes.

The adults from the camp took way longer than they should've to get to the kids.

An older woman, Rose believed her name was Carol, took the young girl into her arms. Cradling her and cooing soft words to her.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl growled, his leg extending out to kick the dead corpse. "That's my deer, been tracking it for miles! Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease bearing, motherless poxy-bastard!"

Rose stifled a chuckle as she glanced as the disoriented man.

"We've gotta quit meeting like this." She smirked.