Meet Me Under Our Willow (A Daryl Dixon Pre-Apocalypse Love Story)

Chapter 1 - My Hero

Quinn : 8 years old : June

The hot Georgia breeze pushes my long light brown hair off my shoulders when I run. My eyes squint because I'm blinded by the bright sun. My sundress flows back when I push myself higher on the swing. I love the swings because I feel like one of the birds; I can fly.

"Quinn! Don't go too high!" my mom yells through the kitchen window. When my feet reach the ground, I drag them to slow myself down.

It's just me out here. I don't have any neighbors around because we live back towards the woods. I like it out here, there is so much space to play. But, I get lonely because I want friends to play with. Especially now that school just got out and it's summer vacation.

My mom and dad own a restaurant in our town, Macon. It's very popular and they have good food. Dad is the chef, so he's a good cook. I love when he makes spaghetti.

I run inside, "Mom, can I go to my favorite tree?"

Mom looks up from washing the dishes, "Be careful, okay?"

"Okay!" I shout as I run out the door.

I skip down the dirt path that goes through the woods. I love this tree, it's where I always go for alone time. Dad says it's a weeping willow tree. I love how the droopy branches make a waterfall around me when I sit against the trunk. It feels like a shield to protect me.

I stop in my tracks when I hear leaves rustling nearby. It wasn't quiet like it was a deer or another animal. It sounded rushed and loud, then stopped quickly. I shrug my shoulders and continue on down the path. It doesn't take me long to reach the tree in the middle of a grassy clearing. I reach inside the hole of the trunk and pull out my bag which contains a coloring book with colored pencils, and my favorite story book.

I begin to climb up to the big branch I enjoy sitting on. Almost halfway up, there is a loud cracking sound, and my feet fall under me when a branch breaks off. I shriek a little in surprise and begin to panic. I try to pull myself up, but I don't have any upper body strength. I hear cracking, and the branch I'm hanging on begins to break.

Then I'm falling.

My scream of terror is cut off when my body lands in a small set of arms. I force myself to open my eyes and are met with bright blue ones. I jump our of their grasp. A boy no older than 10 stands before me. Short and shaggy brown hair, a lean and muscular form, he looks a little dirty and wears worn out clothes.

"Who are you?" I ask.

His eyes lift from the ground and meet mine, "Daryl."

His voice is sort of gruff for such a young age.

"I'm Quinn."

He chews on his bottom lip and nods. This is awkward.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask.

"I'm always out here. Jus' heard tree cracks 'nd ye screamin'."

"Well, thank you. For catching me."

He only grunts a little in response. I can tell he's not very sociable.

"So, what do you do out here?" I ask.

"I camp. Mostly hunt animals."

"Do you kill the animals?"

"For food."

"Gross. Do you cook it?"

"Yeah, over the fire."

"Is that all you do out here? Get bit by bugs and eat animals?"

"Nah...sometimes I like to listen to ye read."

"You watch me out here?" I ask, taking a slight step back.

"Not like tha'. It's jus', I like the story ye always read out loud. 'Nd I'm no good reader."

I smile a little, "Do you want me to read to you?"

His lips twitched up into a small smirk, "Sure."

We walk over to the tree, and he moves the fallen branches aside. We sit next to each other against the tree trunk. I open the book and begin to read to him.

All afternoon, Daryl and I talked some and colored. He told me he lives in a small cabin down the road, but all the good animals are in the woods behind my house. He has a much older brother that's 20 years old. He isn't around much. And Daryl's parents aren't too involved in his life. I invite him to come and meet my parents, and he can have dinner with us, but he declines. He said he needs to get back before his dad gets mad at him for being out too late. I watch Daryl scurry away into the woods towards his house.

I didn't think I would see him again, until he came back the next day.