ANGEL FACE ➵ DARYL DIXON [2]

Chapter Five: Moving Forward

Chapter 5

The picture up above is Daryl holding his middle finger up at the fire (obviously lol) but the song after it is called "Up The Wolves by The Mountain Goats". It fits perfectly with the characters of Daryl Dixon and Scozzafava and I really love this song from the TV show originally with Daryl and Beth. I hope you enjoy!

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"THERE'S GONNA COME A DAY WHEN YOU'LL FEEL BETER"

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Fava moans in her deep sleep sluggishly, turning on her side and falling to the ground with a bang. She yelps, throwing her eyes all around the small one roomed house. She aches with the sudden pain of the hard wood, dust floating and swinging near the two windows and the early light beams of the morning sun entering. A black molded stove collecting rust is parked into the corner, a broken rocking chair and bookshelves with pages crying out to be read.

"Ugh," she moans, laying on the dirty floor and looking up to the single bed where Daryl rests, one hand drooping down, "what the hell happened? Where are we?"

Fava's head pumps and pumps, her stomach feeling like it's running laps and never stopping. She gets up
somnolenly, only to collapse on top of Daryl's chest, him grunting with the applied pressure. Plus every possible bone she has is sticking into him.

"Humph," Daryl groans, pushing on Fava's shoulders, "get the hell up."

"My head is bursting!" Fava complains, "why did you let me drink?"

Daryl places Fava next to his side instead of on top, both not having a lot of space on the single bed. No wonder she fell out.

"Jus' give me five more minutes, then we'll hit the road," Daryl explains, his rough morning voice so raspy making Fava think there's something lodged in his throat.

He closes his blue eyes, his dark morning hair scattered everywhere but the right way. He snuggles back down into the hard pillow, moving it over so both their heads fit. There was no blankets, no duvet. Nothing. Just a mattress with snapped springs and a cheap white pillow that smelt of an old musty smell, like it was decaying.

"Where are we going to go?" Fava asks beside him, looking up to see his eyelashes fluttering and his eyes looking at the ceiling like something was there.

She follows, looking up and seeing nothing remotely interesting, just cobwebs and dead flies. She becomes curious, about to ask, when Daryl speaks for her.

"Whaddya see?"

His eyes remain glued, seeing something more as Fava has detected his heart rate has increased.

Pump, pump, pump, pump. It almost matches her sore head.

"Filth," she replies, looking at his side view, "why? What about you?"

Daryl sits up on the bed, his back pressed to the headboard. After a minute of silence, he gets up, leaving Fava confused and slightly worried. She remains on the bed, watching Daryl put on his jacket and tie his shoe laces. He grabs his crossbow. But he holds it out towards her, like he was giving it to her?

"What?" She questions, getting up from the bed and walking forward.

"Today, I'mma teach ya to hunt."