Arrowhead ➳ Daryl Dixon

n i n e

Three days. It'd been three days since Daryl had brought Presley back, and she'd been unconscious the entire time. Some of the bruises on her body softened in color and many of the scratches had already scabbed over, but the girl still looked broken and frail. Mud was still caped in her hair, no matter how many times Carol had used her free time to come in and brush it. Her face had been washed, now revealing all the scratches and marks that lined the porcelain skin.

Daryl kept watch most of the time, only stopping for a few hours every day to sleep and eat. Nobody knew why he acted like this for the girl. Carol suspected that he was acting like this because he wanted to save her, unlike the time he had tried to save Sophia. But nobody truly knew, and nobody dared to say he couldn't do it.

Zeva never left Presley's side. For a few minutes every few hours she would go outside to use the bathroom, but other than that, the dog never moved from her spot. Mika and Lizzie brought her food and water, but she wasn't near as loving to them as before. All her attention was trained on her peacefully sleeping owner. This disappointed the girls, especially since Daryl always ushered them out of the cell.

It was on the fourth day that Presley began to stir. Zeva barked to alert everybody in the cell block, so soon there was a crowd gathered around the bed.

Unfortunately, the girl didn't wake up. Her eyes fluttered to reveal a splash of radiant blue and she groaned, before falling back into her deep slumber. That happened multiple times that day, so Hershal suspected she would wake up any time.

And she did.

On the morning of the fifth day, those bright blue eyes opened, but only to see Hershal, Rick, Daryl, Carol, and a young boy she didn't recognize. Within moments she was requesting food and water, starving after her few days with no food. They waited patiently while she ate and drank before interrogating her.

"I had just parked on a hill to check out the map." Presley began, closing her eyes as she fought to remember everything. "There was a man. I thought he was a roamer, so I went out to kill him... But he was human." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Somebody hit me over the head and I blacked out. I don't remember anything else." She admitted, opening her eyes to state blankly at the walls. Zeva crawled up onto her owner's lap, whimpering. "The last thing I remember is running through the forest... There were half a dozen roamers chasing me, and I was weaponless, tired, and hungry..."

"Are you sure that's all you remember?" Rick said, scratching his beard curiously, "There's obviously a big space you're not remembering."

"That's all I know. Honest." She insisted, scratching Zeva behind the ears.

"Well," Hershal intervened, "You will stay in here for a few days. You got a couple broken ribs." He paused, "Something tells me that you won't stay in bed, however, so keep the activity on a limit. No lifting anything heavy, no running, no holding any guns or bows or whatever the hell you use, other than knives."

Presley forced a small, timid smile, "You'd might as well stop now, Hershal." She said. "I don't listen to doctors."

"I'm no doctor." He announced, "I am a veterinarian."

Presley cringed when she laughed, the pain in her chest almost unbearable. "I'll leave soon... I've probably already been a bother."

"Nonsense." Carol said. "You're welcome here."

Presley shook her head, leaning back against the pillow. Oddly enough, she was still tired and longed to close her eyes. "The group life isn't for me."

- - -

"I don't think you have to watch her anymore." Carl said, leaning against the bars. Daryl looked at the young boy with a frown. He knew he didn't have to watch her, but he didn't want the girl getting up and wandering. The last thing they needed was to have her hurt herself again. He couldn't stop her from leaving in a few weeks time, but he was sure he could at least keep her in bed for a few days.