Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, or its characters.

Hi There! This is my first story for The Walking Dead, and the first published. I know that I am not particularly good at writing, but I want to get better. So please feel free to leave your feedback, positive or negative. Constructive criticism and advice will be extremely appreciated, and all reviews will be read and (hopefully all) replied to. Please enjoy!

Chapter One

Amy Walker was thinking of what she hated most about being stuck in a quarry with a bunch of almost-strangers and her righteous older sister. Perhaps it was the fact that most of the time there was little else to do apart from laundry and scavenging. No, this was the apocalypse. Nothing could be boring anymore, no matter how mundane most tasks were. Adventure was the dreaded while every day activities seemed to set an eerie calm over the survivors.

No, it wasn't boredom that Amy hated the most. Maybe it was a lack of hot bathing water and her mobile phone? That thing had been attached to the teen's fingers since the day she had received it from her doctorate holding parents. But no, what was being clean and in touch when there was nobody else left to care.

No, it wasn't the lack of luxuries either, though the young blonde would have jumped from a cliff before denying the chance of a hot shower were it to be given. Amy knew exactly what she hated the most about being in a camp with people she'd have never normally associated with. Daryl Dixon.

Daryl was not like the other men in the camp. He wasn't overly talkative or friendly like Rick, nor a leader like Shane. He was an angry man with no time for anybody bar himself and is pathetic excuse for a brother. Despite the fact that Amy would have crumbled had she lost her sister, Andrea, she couldn't help the small sense of relief in knowing that Merle Dixon was not returning to camp any time soon. She hadn't shown it in front of Daryl, and not had the others, but they all seemed to know that the feeling was shared amongst almost everyone.

Daryl was a redneck asshole with a good aim to boot and he received little trouble out of fear over respect. Amy Walker had no time for the likes of Daryl Dixon.

When Amy walked down to the water pool at the base of the abandoned quarry, she had intended on taking a much need bathe. Sure, it wasn't the double spa that she had in her bathroom back home, but it was all that they had. In fact, the once materialistic teenager had been surprised at how quickly she'd stopped caring about things like makeup and wealth when the world had turned to shit.

After taking off her dirty jumper, the blonde release the matted hair from it's place atop her head and allowed herself to at least be disgusted at her state. The world had been overrun by resurrected dead people who wanted nothing more than to consume whatever living thing they could find, but surely it was okay to be ashamed when one's fingers couldn't even move freely through their hair. With everything from food to toiletries being rationed out, hair washing wasn't an every day event.

Checking around her to ensure that she was alone, Amy began to peel her sweat and dirt caked clothes from her body, shivering slightly as the cool breeze caressed her bare skin. The water was warmer than she expected, heated by the bright rays of sunshine that flashed across the surface. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to enjoy the feel of water on her skin.

Clean, refreshed and now able to maneuver her hair, the young woman returned to camp. Catching site of her sister, she smiled and approached her.

"Laundry again?" Amy asked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she halted by Andrea's shoulder. The older blonde was looking off in the distance with a look on her face that said she wasn't pleased. Amy followed Andrea's gaze with her own and the sight was far from pretty. The teen's jaw dropped as a body was dragged to a small fire, the head being added to the burning heap like it was an afterthought. "What happened?"

"A stray walker was feeding on a deer nearby," her sister responded solemnly, the look in her aqua eyes reading concern, "where were you?"

"Washing myself," Amy replied, trying to keep the annoyance from her tone. It was not the time to complain about her lack of independence.

"Stay close, Amy," the older Walker woman said, her voice pleading with her younger sister, "please."

Thank you for reading!