𝐆𝐎𝐃'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 - 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍

three - "an extra from dawn of the dead"

𝐆𝐎𝐃'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 — 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍
❝ an extra from dawn of the dead ❞

THE NEXT DAY came faster than Madeline would have hoped. She slept like shit, which wasn't exactly uncommon for her. She woke up before the sun was even above the horizon, staring up at the ceiling of her tent with pure hatred in her eyes. She was angry, but not necessarily at anyone.

She was just angry at the world.

Angry that it went to hell. Angry that the last six years of her life were wasted. Angry that she wasn't in her own bed with her own blankets. But above all else: she was angry at the world for making herself the prey to the new predators it allowed to arise.

By the time she left her tent, the fog that had settled in the campsite had dwindled. She stalked her way through the mess of tents, making her way into the trees for just a moment of privacy. The forest was quiet and soft and gave her a moment to breathe. She looked up at the trees and exhaled loud enough to alert any of the monsters nearby.

She turned around with the intentions of making her way back to camp, only to come face to face with a man. He was taller than her, but not by much, with a head full of short, brown hair. But she only noticed all of this after she noticed the crossbow bolt pointed in between her eyes. She placed her hand on the hunting knife that was tucked into her waist band.

"Who the hell are you?" He snarled at her, eyes narrowed and accent thick.

"I could ask you the same thing," She hissed back, hand gripping the handle of the knife. She had never killed before, but with someone this close to camp who was obviously dangerous, she might just have to change that.

"Maddy?" A new voice broke through the tense silence that had settled among the two adults. They were staring at each other with accusing eyes, but at the sound of this new voice her eyes softened and grew wide.

"Carl, go back to camp, sweetheart," She cooed, looking at the young boy behind the man. But the boy didn't listen, instead moving closer until he rounded the man and looked up at him.

"Mr. Dixon, why are you pointing that at her? She's part of the group." His childish voice caused the man to drop his bow and look down at him. The man merely rolled his eyes and stalked off, not bothering to even apologize. Once he had broke through the tree line, Carl rushed over to Madeline with a big smile on his face.

"Carl you can't do that! You could have gotten seriously hurt!" Madeline scolded the young boy who merely giggled and continued to smile up at his godmother.

"Mr. Dixon wouldn't of hurt me! I know he looks all mean and tough but he's actually a teddy bear, I can feel it." The young boy defended himself.

"Well i didn't know that, so you can't blame me for being worried." She rolled her eyes and grabbed the boy's hand, leading him back into the protection of the camp. Carol smiled her way as she led Carl through camp, handing the pair their breakfasts of fish and some of the canned fruit Madeline had given her the day prior.

In the distance, Madeline could just barely make out the silhouette of the Dixon man skinning what no doubt was his kill from a hunt. Carl had informed her of the man's status as the hunter for the group while his brother did runs into the city with another handful of survivors she had yet to meet.

While she had deep in thought, the man looked up from the squirrel he was skinning, locking eyes with her. Ocean blue met deep brown, and since she wasn't one to hold grudges (even of the i-almost-murdered-you type), she sent a ghost of a smile his way.

He merely stared back.

His gaze was so intense that Madeline was the first to break the contact, dropping her head and refocusing on the story that Carl was telling her about the survivors that were coming back today.

The more he spoke of the group that went into the city and scavenged for supplies, the more she grew worried. She knew her brother well, and knew that the moment they came back he would volunteer like some dumbass gender-bent Katniss. Though she was the youngest between the three, she was the only one with a functioning brain. Shane was the brute, she was the brain, while Issac was just the sweet-talker. He had a lot to offer, but most of which would get him killed in today's world. His impulsiveness and love for heroics just to name a few. But now that they were with Shane, he would have to listen to him, right?

─────

The next interaction she had with Daryl Dixon was when he came to her to apologize. Well, she wouldn't call what he did an apology, but she gathered that he wasn't really the apologizing type. It went like this:

She was sat on the same log from the night before, cupping a bowl of Cup Noodle in her chilled palms. The sun had just set, and she could still see the slight whispers of rose colored light spread across the sky. Rose mixed with the vast openness of the star-speckled black. The muffled sounds of chatter behind her. Steam from her modest yet appreciated dinner.

He took a seat on the log beside her, just within arms reach. He seemed to be chewing on his bottom lip, and she wondered if it was habit. He stared into the fire, almost as if he was contemplating something. He turned to her sharply, mouth open in preparation, but his burst of confidence no doubt fell flat. She smirked into her bowl. He scowled into his.

He reached into his pocket then, grabbing out a packet of seasoning mix he must have stolen from some poor survivor. He tore it open with his teeth, spitting the excess foil into the fire. He hesitated for a moment before dumping half of the packet into his bowl. She rolled her eyes.

She could hear laughter behind her coming from her brothers and Lori. The booming voice of her eldest brother filled the campsite and she smiled softly. She was roused, however, by a jab to her calf. She looked up quickly, eyes landing on Daryl with his eyes down, but arm extended. The rest of the seasoning packet, in all of its glory, was being offered to her. An olive branch of sorts.

"Next time you point that thing at me, you best pray I'm an extra from Dawn of the Dead, got it?"

He merely grunted in response. She grabbed the packet from his still outstretched hand, dumping its contents into her noodles. She opened her mouth to try and start a conversation because even though she hated small talk, Madeline Walsh hated tense silence even more. But, she was cut off by the man quickly rising to his feet and leaving without a word. She turned around, watching him leave, mouth agape. Then she heard her brothers take their seats across from her, instantly distracting her and pulling her into their conversation.

Not another thought crossed her mind about the redneck, Daryl Dixon. Instead, they were on her childhood and how terribly dirty she felt.

Madeline couldn't quiet decide if that was a good thing or not.