Instincts (Daryl Dixon FF)

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[Season 4, before Internment]

Margo's P.o.V.

The drive was about 20 minutes long and very dull. Nobody talked and nobody wanted to talk. There were some dusty beams of dusk shining through the foggy windows and dancing over the dark coloured crossbow next to me. I traced my slim digits around the swelling underneath my eye, over the assumingly purple blotched skin and the small bloody crusts along my cheek. My face was turned against the window on my left, eyes watching the dark green pines rush past our car in a coloured blurr. With every minute we drove the sun seemed to drop deeper between the woods, slowly inviting the darkness of the night to take over.

At some point Daryl steered the car off the calm asphalt into a small bumpy gravel road on the left. I shifted slightly peeking through the windshield between the two of them to see our destination. Infront of us were some clean white houses emerging from the ground buildung a small village between the gloom of the forest. They were all arranged in a semicircle, similar to each other but not exactely identical. We drove right into the middle of the little settlement, the tires creeping over the pebble, leaving traces in the dust. Once the car came to a stop I was the first one to hopp out and get ready to scavenge the place. Not that I was especially excited to confront myself with a dangerous situation but I was.. well, curious about the other two. Which was also the reason I didn't even bother to close the car door in a calm manner but rather slammed it shut to at least attract a dozen more walkers which were potentially wandering around in our surroundings. I saw Daryl and Michonne exchange annoyed glances as they adjusted their weapons, Michonne swinging her katanas over her back and Daryl getting his crossbow out of the backseat before closing their doors in a more reasonable way. The two of them started walking towards the first house expecting me two tag along which I did but a few feet behind them. I pulled one of my brought along knives out of my belt and firmly grasped it in my hand.

As Daryl kicked in the front door with his foot, crossbow raised firmly on his shoulder I remaind outside infront of the pavilion. Maybe they survived a few years with their "barge in" tactic but it just wasn't my way of doing things. I don't have to make myself appetizing for the undead to see them coming. I already heard them miles away. There were two or three of them snarling around in the upper floor but more important behind our backs the first few stumbled out of the forest border. Mission accomplished. I smirked and started climbing the fence around the small wooden pavilion area. After getting a puzzled look from Michonne I pushed myself of the post and jumped onto the porch. A long steady breath filled my lungs.

Oh I am so ready to fight.

I walked over to the small upper floor window positioned right in the middle of the porch. There were small little flower like carvings decorating the delicate window frame. I traced my fingertips gently around them, feeling the rough wood scratching my skin. A slight feeling of unease flew through my stomach but I was quick to ignore it, braking the glass with my clothed elbow before anything else could fog my mind. The blood pumping through my veins gushed like a beat in my ears and the adrenaline in my body only hardened my muscles even more. I grasped the window frame hard and swung myself through the curtains inside of the room. Very instantly the familiar smell of rotten flesh and blood hit my nose and I saw a single walker on his way towards me from the other end of the small bedroom. He was like a flaw in an artpiece. The one brushstroke which ruined a decade of work and I almost felt obligated to erease it.

I kicked him in the chest which had him bump against one of the once white walls, fixed his shoulder with my left hand and plunged my knife deep between his eye sockets. Hot blood spluttered against my face and ran down my neck as his eyes went silent and I let him sink on the wooden floor.

I opened the bedroom door and creeped out into the hallway. Daryl and Michonne were checking the rooms downstairs, one after one, so they could give each other backing. Between their light steps I could here them muttering some indistinct words to each other, occasionally plopping some cans in Daryls bag.