The cool breeze blew against your cheek, and the fresh air fanned against your skin. Sending goosebumps climbing up your arms and legs. But it felt good to feel the wind blowing through your long hair that cascaded down your back. There was something calming about the feel of a breeze at night. As though each inhale of the fresh raw air could soothe you from the inside out.
Your eyes gazed upon the long grass of the green field that stretched out in front of you. And although much of it became hidden as it reached the tall silver gates surrounding the prison, you could still see the sparkle of natural beauty on the far away horizon.
"What'cha doing out here?"
You hadn't even heard his boots carrying him through the grass, and although his words startle you, you smile softly at his sudden presence.
That was the thing with Daryl Dixon, wherever you were and whatever the situation, when ever he was near, you smiled. For he made you feel calmer and safer, just by the presence of his quiet protective being.
Looking up, as Daryl's shadow falls upon you and engulfs you in a cooler shade, you shrug your shoulders softly.
"Just thinking," You softly breathe out, and soon you turn your head back to the extended field. "And I was craving some fresh air."
The prison was a blessing. A safety and a refuge that you all needed desperately. But it was more than four walls and a roof, it was a place you all could start again. That's how it felt. No matter the history stored within those grey cement walls and metal cells, its future was brighter.
But as much as you enjoyed the structure and safety of the building, there were days when you missed the fresh air on the open road. And that's when you needed time in the fields. To allow the nature and fresh air to soak back into your skin and breathe in the less stuffy and stale air that you breathed in the prison block.
"Is she still asleep?" You ask Daryl as you feel him take a seat beside you. His legs bringing him to sit in the grass and turning your head, you look to the broad but beautiful redneck.
Daryl nods his head as he chews on his thumbnail. "Mhm. Out like a light."
Your daughter. Seven years old and just like her father. Daryl claimed she was more you than himself, as she carried all your physical features except for bright blue eyes. But you swore she was more him than yourself. She may look like you, but she got every attitude, accent, and behavior from her father. She was his spitting image, and some days you wondered if that scared him.
"She really loves that book you brought back for her." You inform him, as your head leans softly against his shoulder.
Daryl hums softly, as he relaxes into your touch. "Figured she was old 'nough to start readin chapter books. Even if she can only read a page or two a night."
You smile faintly as you breathe in the scent from his denim jacket. The pine and the smoke that had woven itself into Daryl's clothes and the scent of his skin still coming through the thick denim.
"Do you remember those days years ago, when we'd take those heavy quilted blankets my mother gave me, and spread them out across the lawn in the backyard?"
Your voice is soft in the vast open space of the field, but it floats straight up to Daryl's ear and he listens to you intently. As he always did.
"And we'd bring out sandwiches or hot dogs and that overly sweet lemonade she always loved, and just have a picnic in the backyard?"
Daryl feels a warmth spread throughout him at the memory he had honestly long forgotten. But remembering those easier and happier times, makes him feel something deep in his chest. Something he had felt on those days years ago.
