Knife Edge [Daryl Dixon]

Chapter Seven - Lost in Living (2/2)

     Daryl wasn't sure how Sarah would take to hunting but with blue skies and white clouds far above them as he drove to the outskirts of Delaplane, it was a fine day for it. She was wearing what he told her to anyway. Jeans, her denim shirt and a gray jacket. Good colors for blending in.

He hid the car down an overgrown track and they set out on foot, cutting across open parkland towards the forest. He missed Georgia, every day, but the woods were home too and his stride lengthened with every mile they covered. 

On seeing rabbit tracks on the forest floor he taught her how to lay snares, watching her until she got the hang of it. Then he set a simple camp for lunch, showing her how to prepare a rabbit for the fire. Merle always went on at him about dodging the fiddly jobs. Well, she could pick them up from now on, leaving him to hunt.

After lunch, his belly warm with roast rabbit, he was kicking dirt over the fire when Sarah appeared at his side, 'Can I have a shot of your crossbow?'

He raised his eyebrows but passed it across. 

'It's lighter than I thought it would be,' she said, but when she fired he hid a smile behind his hand. She hit a tree, it just wasn't the one she aimed at. 

When he came back with the arrow, her foot was in the stirrup and she was trying to cock it the way he did. She pulled the wire and groaned with the effort, 'My god Daryl, how strong are you?'

He took the crossbow, and gave her a look as he cocked it in one fluid action, 'Just used to it is all.'

'You're pullin' to the left,' he said when he put it back in her hands. 'Keep the target in sight when you fire.'

She nodded, took off her jacket, made sure to get a good stance before aiming carefully, then she fired. His arrow disappeared into the forest. To the left. 

Tutting, she thrust the crossbow back at him and went after the arrow.

Daryl shook his head as he followed her, Hell, even Beth was a better shot than that. 

The bright feathers on his arrow were sticking out of a tree on the other side of a gully, but on reaching the ridge, he stopped dead. The gully wasn't deep, but it was plenty deep enough to hide the twenty or so walkers waiting at the bottom. 

Real careful, he took a step back, putting out a hand to stop Sarah when she came up behind him. There wasn't time for stealth though. The closest walker was already turning. A snarl on its lips. 

As one, they turned and ran. In one direction at first. Away. 

On hearing the rush of a river in the distance, Daryl veered off. He shouted to Sarah ahead of him but when she looked back, her eyes slid beyond him and widened. Immediately, she shrugged off her backpack and dropped it, running faster. 

The walkers were rising out of the gully, crawling and staggering in their haste to get after them. It was more than twenty. 

Daryl sped up too. They had to get to the river. If they could cross it, they would leave the herd behind. 

They ran through the forest, jumping over clumps of sodden grass and broken branches until they were forced to stop and catch their breath. The roar of fast water nearby told him they were heading in the right direction.

He looked back. He had to. The walkers had spread out some, but they were still coming, clambering across the uneven ground. That was the thing. They would never tire, and they would never stop. 

He pushed Sarah ahead of him and started running again. There was a glint through the trees ahead of them, but when they burst out of the shaded forest into sunlight on the edge of a riverbank, they skidded to a halt. Out of breath and out of options.