I do not own The Walking Dead or its characters. These are the property of AMC. I only own Olivia. Enjoy!

Arrow through the brain, fall to the ground. The routine was monotonous, taking out creeper after creeper. My compound bow had become like an extensive of my arm since the world went to shit. I kept it at my side, and the owner of it, my father, in my heart. Maybe that was all that got me through, knowing that he would want me to continue to fight and survive despite the odds stacked against me. Well, if he could see these creeps now, maybe he would understand that sometimes, fighting made one tired and being tired, made one reckless. Perhaps I was finally getting to that point. If I was, then why did I notch another arrow into the bowstring and shoot the creep that was approaching me, pulling back and releasing it into his rotting head?

With the last one from what I could tell down, I went to pull the two shafts from their brains, if the mush they had become could be called that, returning them to the quiver on my back, and headed in the direction I had been previously walking in to find some much needed water. From what I could hear about half a mile back, there was some kind of stream nearby and I needed refilling before my supply got too low. I didn't want to be caught out in these woods after dark since the trees looked too tall to climb and the branches looked nowhere near able to support my weight.

Several more feet ahead and I could see a drop off. I looked over the edge and wasn't too surprised to see a creeper approaching a corpse on the ground below. The problem was that the corpse wasn't exactly a corpse and began moving as the undead began to grab at his foot. I notched the arrow and sent it straight through the creep's mush head, then notched another as the second creep began to approach its prey. With both put down, I began to slowly make my way down to the ground below, retrieving my arrows on the back burner as I began to approach the man.

"Hey," I asked as he grabbed at the crossbow at his side, "you all right?"

"I'm fine. Beat it," he spat at me.

"Yeah, cause that arrow sticking out your side is the definition of fine."

"What do you care," he retorted, using the crossbow to help him get to his feet.

"Well, since I just saved your ass, I was thinking I could at least get a thank you, but I expected too much in this shit. I'll get my arrows and go. Go screw yourself, jackass."

I went to the two creeps and, once again, pulled the shafts from their heads, wiping them against my pants as I made my way over to the water to do what I had come here to do.

Crouching down to fill up my three bottles, I could hear Mr. Sunshine behind me groaning as he tried, and failed to effectively pull the arrow from his side. I sighed, knowing that he was going to need my help. As much as I wanted to kick his ungrateful ass into next week, the nurse in me knew I had to lend a hand…again. How fortunate for me.

I shoved the bottles back in my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I got up to attend to the stranger.

He looked up at me from his twisted position as he tried to get a look at the wound. He looked me up and down, then that rusty voice said, "Didn't I tell you to beat it?" I exhaled a heavy sigh from my nose and dropped my bag to the ground, laying my bow beside it. I walked behind him to where the feathered end of the arrow was and placed a hand on his back. Without a warning, I yanked the arrow from his side like you'd rip off a band aid. He yelled in pain, then looked back and spat at me, "Bitch!"

"Look, I didn't have to save your ass from those creeps. I could have let your sorry skull get eaten, but by the goodness of my heart, I made a choice. Now shut the hell up and let me do this." I tore a piece of fabric from the bottom of my shirt and began to wrap the piece around his torso, tying a tight knot to help slow down the bleeding. I picked up my bag and threw it on my back, slinging my bow over my shoulder by the leather strap attached to it. "You got somewhere you're staying? You're not gonna get far on your own with that wound."

He looked at me incredulously then slung his crossbow over his shoulder, turning to the ledge behind him and began to make his way to the top. I sighed and decided I was done here, wanting to get rid of this load as soon as I could. With much effort and making sure the jerk above me doesn't fall back on his ass, we finally make it to the top. He starts to limp forward in the way of wherever he's been staying.

"You gonna just leave without telling me your name?"

"You're not my problem."

I sigh, the nurse in me once again making me move forward to pull his arm over my shoulder. I don't know why I care enough to actually give a damn about this jackass, but here I am continuing to help him out. Maybe it's my dad's voice in the back of my head telling me that leaving him to stagger around on his own is as good as killing him. There's my other problem; besides the nurse in me, my father, who was a medical examiner, always managed to appeal to my humanity. It seems that hasn't worn off despite his death.

"Unfortunately for the both of us, you've become mine. Now, where are we going?" We stare at each other for a moment then he begins heading forward.

"I'll lead," he replies.

A few miles and several hundred limping steps later, the trees begin to fade behind us and the field before us allows the sunlight to warm my skin from the shade it's been covered in for the past few hours. My eyes focus ahead of us on two men running towards us yelling at one another. We stop as they approach, both men with their guns raised towards us. I guess with the limping and the dirt clinging to our skins, we're not exactly the epitome of human-looking from far away.

"Is that Daryl," the brown haired man asks. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the one who saved your buddy here," I retort. "Maybe you'd have preferred I'd left him in that ravine?"

"Look, she's fine. But that's the third time you've pointed that thing at me. You gonna use it or what?"

Before I can even blink, a force knocks Daryl backwards and out of the grasp I had around his waist. It's like life has gone into slow motion and I look down at him, lying on the ground, a fresh stream of blood coming from his temple. I kneel down next to him, quickly turning his head to the side to check yet another wound. The brown haired man that had his gun aimed at me is yelling at the top of his lungs to someone across the field. Maybe that's where the gunshot came from.

"I was just kidding," Daryl groans, his words slurring as he loses consciousness. I begin to try to lift him off the ground, but, as I struggle, the brown haired man approaches Daryl's other side, helping lift his limp body. We both throw an arm over our shoulders and I follow the brown haired man as he leads the way.

"We're going to the farm up ahead. We've got it from here."

"I've gotten him this far. I'm gonna see the rest through."

The man looks over at me, a skeptical look on his face.

"All right. But you follow my lead."

More people come running up to us, a blonde woman and an Asian man. The blonde is exclaiming, "Is he dead?"

I spit, "He's unconscious, no thanks to you. Just ruined all of my hard work patching him up and getting him here. Now get out of our way."

We nearly get to the house when the brown haired man finally asks, "Who are you anyway?"

"The name's Olivia Baker. Now, shut up and keep moving."

This is the first chapter of my new Walking Dead fanfiction. If there's anything you guys want me to touch on while I'm writing this story, please let me know in the reviews and please enjoy! Thanks!