Rain
The rain thrummed on Daryl's bike, 'Probably rusting the damn thing.' Daryl thought rather venomously as he gazed at it from the window of the R.V.
"Staring at it won't keep it from getting wet," Carol said coming from the bedroom, "If you're so concerned about what happens to the bike why don't you go and tarp it?"
Daryl snorted in disgust, "No," he growled simply. There was no reason for him to go bumbling about in the cold and wet just to tarp up his older brother's bike. He would look like a fool and that certainly didn't fly with him. No Dixon made a fool of himself in front of others; it showed a degree of weakness that he would not let these idiots see. So he kept gazing out the window as the rain continued to fall. Carol just shrugged grabbing two bottles of water and vacated the old R.V. From there she ran through the deluge to her tent, where her husband and daughter Sophie were sheltered from the tumult. Then Daryl was left alone with his thoughts. There wasn't much for him to think about. His brother wasn't something he enjoyed pondering on; it pissed him off to remember his brother's unfortunate fate. If the idiot had waited Rick would have gone back for him. Instead Meryl had cut off his own damn hand to get out of the cuffs. Of course Rick had been the one to handcuff him to the roof in the first place. Daryl growled inwardly, shaking himself like a dog. Don't think about Meryl was an important guideline to follow. Not thinking about his past was equally important, and wondering about the phenomenon that was the Walkers and where that would take him in his future just made his head spin.
"Stupid rain, rusting my bike!" he spat quietly. Just then Dale walked in the trailer followed closely by Andrea and her younger sister Amy who passed by the older man as he stood out of their way.
"Girls you can go into the back to get changed into something drier," Dale said running his hand through his short gray hair sending water droplets about the place.
"Thanks, Dale," Amy said, following her sister and closing the divider behind her.
Daryl glanced at the accordion door then over to Dale who had sat down in the driver seat of the R.V. Dale looked at him and nodded, giving him one of his looks. Daryl wrinkled his nose a bit and stood. The trailer was suddenly too crowded for him. He made it to the door then hesitated, gazing at the rain as it pattered on the vehicles and turned the ground into a muddy clay that would stick to pants and shoes and never come out again. Caught between a rock and a hard place or rather a wet place, Daryl took his chances with the rain. He hissed, annoyed by the frigid droplets that hit his skin and drenched through his clothes. He ran to the nearest tent to find Carol and her family.
"What do you want?" Ed, the undesirable she was married to growled, the cut above his eye becoming more and more infected. Daryl snorted not wanting to be anywhere near the scum lying on the sleeping bag, "Nothing" he muttered darkly. Then he went back into the down poor. Unfortunately, every tent, and every vehicle seemed to have a person in it, so he opted for the canopy of a tree. It was not enough; the rain filtered through the leaves and seemed to even become larger and colder during their decent. Daryl hated the rain. He knew it was probably a really ridiculous thing to hate but he did. Rain was not the friend of a hunter. The rain was wet and cold; it made survival a lot harder than it already was when you were out on your own with so little in the way of survival. It corrupted visibility and was surprisingly loud and deafened all other important sounds. Rain washed away tracks and made finding ones quarry impossible. It was merciless and watered everything down to nothing. It was the strangest thing in the world for a man like Daryl to hate. He didn't dislike most things derived from nature. People, he could hate, and frankly, Walkers were really easy to hate, but things like the wind or sunshine or the cold it just seemed like a stupid thing to waste your displeasure on. What did dirt and rocks do to hurt anyone? Or plants and animals? There wasn't much they could do to scathe him; and in reality the rain couldn't do that much to him either. Daryl hated the rain. It was a stupid thing to hate, but he did.