Feral Citizens

These Children of Ours

The morning sunlight breathed through the curtains of Dale's R.V., reaching into the camp bed and gently easing me from sleep. I picked up voices from the other end of the R.V. as I stretched, pulling myself from the bed and stumbling into the kitchen area.

Dale and Daryl looked up from their seats. I nodded to the two men and quickly rummaged through Dale's cupboards, hoping to find something to eat that wasn't canned vegetables.

"Here," Carol slid a plate sliced peaches across the counter. Somehow, she had found cinnamon and sugar, and rolled the peach slices in them. "you look like you could use these."

I thanked her, taking the plate between my nimble fingers and plucking a slice from the plate. The peach was juicy and sweet, and I had to hold myself back from voicing my appreciation.

Dale excused himself from the kitchen, hobbling outside to sit atop the R.V. again. I slid into the seat he had been using and looked at Daryl, who was busying himself with examining the dirt beneath his fingernails. I carefully pushed the plate towards him. "Want some?"

He shook his head, "Nah, I'm good," Somehow, it felt more awkward than ever speaking with him. I'd pushed too far last night, prodded and probed a little too deep into his past. I wouldn't make the same mistake again. "I'm gonna head out again soon, try and track down the kids before we get off the highway." There was a question hidden in his announcement.

"You want me to join you?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Daryl shrugged nonchalantly, like he couldn't care less, but I knew what he really meant. I hadn't spooked him as much as I thought I had. "maybe you can give me a lesson in tracking."

"How is it you know how to hunt, but not to track?" Carol questioned. I jumped, almost forgetting that she was stood there.

"When my old man took me and my brother hunting as kids, I just did the shootin'," I explained. "I left the tracking and the skinning to my dad, or sometimes Lucas, if he was feelin' up to it."

Daryl whipped his hand across the table, snatching a peach slice from my plate and dropping it into his open mouth. "Sure, I can try to give you the basics, as long as you pay attention."

"Course," I responded, finishing off the peaches. We both got up from the table and headed towards the door. On my way out, I turned to Carol, "make sure Dale knows where we've gone."

"Will do." She called. I followed Daryl back down the bank towards the woods, and he led me to where the trail had last gone cold.

I couldn't understand how he could make anything of it. All I saw was dirt and leaves littering the ground.

Daryl swore. "Knew I should've tried picking it up again earlier. It's not much."

"Can you still track them?" I asked.

"Course," he grunted. "just a bit difficult, is all."

I followed him along the tracks, careful not to step on any marking he pointed out. As we went along, he explained how I could examine the imprints in the ground. How a firmer, deeper imprint indicated running, or a heavier person. His lessons weren't amazing. He was snappy and impatient, and if he thought I wasn't paying attention I was quickly reminded of it. It took all of my strength not to take his bait and bite back. I'd known men like Daryl, way before the lurkers. They used their anger as a shield, hoping someone would fight back and give them a reason to be angry. The only way to get a man like Daryl Dixon to open up was to remain calm and refuse to give in.

But, Lord, the man made it difficult.

I kept a tight grip of my grow as we pushed through the brambles below our feet. Every so often, I would duck as a tree branch came my way, huffing at Daryl. He would say nothing, continued to stalk the changes in the forest floor.