Survival of Two

Daryl Dixon

Daryl (who for your information is very handsome!) was laying in his bed, day dreaming. After a while, he thought it was time to do something, go outside and train his crossbow skills, have fresh air, anything. He didn't want to stay in that house any minute longer. He grabbed his crossbow and opened the door, "Where do you think you're going, Daryl?" Merle was sitting in the living room doing his own stuff.
"Away from here." Daryl replied to Merle about to step out of the house.
"You can't just go like that, little brother."
"I can. And I am. I'm old enough to do what I want."
"If you're old enough, why do you still live with your mother?"
"Look at you." Daryl slammed the door and ran into the forest, where he did more of his training. He usually hunted for rabbits, squirrels, anything really. He got good at it now; it was his daily routine.

He spotted some tracks going up to a tree. "Must be a squirrel," he said to himself. "come on out, little guy." Daryl whispered. The squirrel was hiding inside the tree, but Daryl could see him. He shot a bolt at the squirrel, going right through his eye. "Bulls eye." Then, out of no where, he heard a rustle from a bush: he got his crossbow out ready to attack whatever was in that bush. Out came a creature, that wasn't an animal nor a human; it was more something like from the movies. It had ripped clothes, damp from blood. Words couldn't describe it. Daryl shot it in the stomach, but it didn't die. "What the hell is this?!" Daryl shot him again in the head, like he did with the squirrel. The thing finally gave up and fell down to the ground. He came up close to see what it was. "Looks like it was once a human, but something must have triggered this mutation into, well, this." Daryl ripped up the clothes and checked any sign of bites, scratches, chemical reactions, anything. Finally, he found a bite on the back of the things leg. "A bite?"