Author's note/Warning, Disclaimer:

Takes place during Season 2. Rated M for violence, language and sexual themes.

Main pairing is Daryl/OC

Just started writing this fanfiction a few weeks ago and finally brought up the courage to upload the first chapter. I hope some of you will stick around to see what happens! Enjoy!

She bumped against a tree and fell onto her back. The woman had been running through the cluttered forest for hours, blood was oozing from a wound in her side. She groaned, reaching down and clutching her bloody side in pain, laying there for a few moments before pulling herself back up, grabbing the backpack she had dropped a few feet away from her. "Fuck…" She moaned, continuing to move forward, trying hard to ignore the pain in her legs and side and find a safe place to stay for the night.

She found it hard to stay positive with the size of the wound and the pace at which the blood was flowing out of her body. What if she never found a safe place? If she did, what would she do once she got there? What if she found people, or a group of undead? She barely had any supplies with her and was in no condition to fight off anyone, undead or alive. She pulled a handkerchief out of her back pocket and pressed it sloppily against her side, knowing in her heart that she had no chance of surviving this, but still ignoring the negative thoughts that ran through her mind.

She walked for about a half hour more before collapsing against a tree. Her breaths were ragged and dry. "Shit…shit!" She clutched at the tree with her shaking, bloody fingers, panting. She was bleeding out. She could barely stand, let alone walk, and there was no way in hell she could run. 'Holy shit…I'm gonna die.' She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the tree.

The woman's eyes snapped open. Slow rhythmic rustling, footsteps, moving over dead leaves and towards her. She shifted her position, her body tense. "shit…shit." She muttered under her breath, reaching her shaking hand into her boot and pulling out a small knife. She positioned herself into a crouch, trying not to move. If it was one or two monsters she was sure she could handle it, but she wanted to try avoiding whatever the footsteps belonged to. Her legs shook weakly under her weight; she fell over slightly, catching herself. She winced as she heard the footsteps stop. She froze, looking down at her shaking legs, feeling them numb up. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, preparing for whatever was waiting for her before shooting up to her feet.

A man stood before her. She had her knife in her raised hand, ready to strike. He pointed a crossbow at her head. He stared her down, his icy blue eyes piercing into her warm hazel ones. She was wheezing, her legs and arms shaking. "You bit?" He growled, in a Georgian accent.

"What?" She looked at him with half-lidded eyes, confused and dizzy. She'd stood up too quickly. "What?"

"Are you bit!?" He went forward, still pointing the crossbow at her, shoving it closer to her face.

She shook her head quickly. "No. N-no I'm not…"

"Why're you bleedin'?"

"Shot…I was shot." She moaned, falling against the tree, still staring at him. "Please…don't."

She took a few labored breaths before crumpling to her knees. He watched her, his crossbow still pointed at her head. "Leave me alone." She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, her whole body vibrated before it went almost limp, too weak to stay up, and she fell onto her side. She wheezed and coughed. The man's rugged, dirty face appeared in front of hers. He pushed her onto her back, pulling her bloody shirt up. She whimpered.

"No. Please." He grunted, pulling her shirt back down.

"Shut up." She heard a ripping noise.

"Leave me alone." Her torso was lifted off the ground for a moment then pushed back down. She groaned and tried to roll over.

"I'm taking you to my group. Quit movin'." She felt a pressure on her stomach.

"No. Get off."

"Shut up."

"You sure she wasn't bit?"

"I told you already. I checked."

"Did you feel a bullet?"

"It pro'ly went through. Look! Do what you want wit' her okay! I figured you'd want me to bring the bitch back! Jus' shoot her in the head if you don' believe me. I don't give a damn."

"…we should tie her to the bed."

"No. She's harmless."

"Are you sure, Hershel?"

"Yes. Would you send Patricia up here? I need help stitching this wound up."

"…All right."