The chatter of birds in the trees bolstered the hunter's resolve as he prowled through the underbrush. Crossbow aligned with his cheekbone, the hunter's eyes scanned the forest for a meal – or the undead.

Two more hunters filed in behind the first, hands cradling their outstretched weapons.

Daryl listened to the fall of the men's heavy footsteps as they closed formation. After finding that bloated floater in the well, the group had decided that a perimeter check was well overdue. They had finally found a safe haven, and they were damn sure that this was it. This was where each of the broken group members would hide away from the apocalypse. Daryl still preferred to hunt alone, but he understood Shane's insistence. Shane feared nothing. Not a man, not a beast, not a walker. He had nothing to lose. That is a dangerous combination. Rick had decided to tag along, insisting that he was fine. Daryl wasn't no doctor, but he knew that that much blood loss ain't a good thing. But, that poor kid sure did need it. Wouldn't have survived that gunshot wound without Hershel and a blood transfusion.

Daryl closed his eyes. He wished that he wasn't on security duty to off some of the stray geeks. Not when he had his real mission at hand: finding Sophia. She had only been out there for a couple of days. She could still be alive. He couldn't give up hope yet. She had to still be alive. No. She is still alive.

SNAP

Daryl's every muscle tensed, ready for action. He held his hand up. Rick and Shane pointed their barrels towards the origin of the sound. Daryl stretched his trigger finger, preparing to down anything that moved. He had heard the sound come from behind a cluster of trees. With a slight tilt of his head, Daryl signaled to the others to spread out in case there was a herd. It would be disastrous to get caught together. As the two silently backed away, Daryl crept forward, his muscles poised to attack. To kill.

Daryl approached the cluster of trees. His steps were sure and measured. His crossbow was loaded and yearning to fire. Daryl took a deep breath and with a snarl, he rounded the edge of the cluster. He stopped short. He wasn't sure what to make of what he saw.

His arrow's tip was greeted by another.

Daryl stared at a girl wielding a long, white recurve bow, its string almost as taut as her muscles. Her face wore no expression. Her eyes burned into his. She gradually began to lower her weapon. Daryl mirrored her cautious movements. Daryl saw the same clenched jaw and ruggedness in her face that reflected his own.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, but she kept her bow drawn tight as she peered into the steely warmth of the stranger's blue eyes. The eyes seemed to have a sort of warmth to them. The girl wondered how on earth this man had such kind eyes but such a weary, hard, and dour face to frame those eyes. She cocked her head to the side.

Daryl completely lowered his crossbow. This, this child looked like an animal. Her eyes were still wide, studying his every movement. Her bushy brown hair wildly framed her face. Her whole demeanor was disheveled. Her nose slightly crinkled on one side, in what emotion, Daryl did not know. He tentatively reached out a hand to reassure her. An act of good faith. He murmured, "It's alright. I ain't gunna hurt ya." and things of that sort. He knew that she didn't mean any harm. He didn't know how or why, but he just knew. The crinkles in her forehead smoothed out as she lowered her bow some more. Suspicion. Curiosity. That is, until Daryl saw Shane round the opposite side of the cluster. She heard the footstep. She raised her bow to eye level. She sneered at Daryl. She started to spin to flee. She–

THUD

Daryl watched helplessly as the girl's body collapsed before him. Shane held the butt of his Mossberg 590 above his head in case he needed to give her another blow. Shane's face exhibited complete determination yet no emotion. Rick brought up the rear, brandishing his Colt Python. He followed the others' gazes upon the motionless body sprawled across the roots. Her quiver was strewn across the forest floor, but her small hand still gripped her snow-white bow. Rick's shoulders slumped a little once he realized what Shane had done. His index finger and thumb gripped the bridge of his nose as he turned away from the armored girl. Daryl calmly bent over to feel for a pulse. He sighed. Only unconscious. Daryl started gathering up the scattered bolts while the other two glared at one another.

"Was that necessary?" Rick rasped before bending over to pull the girl's pack off her back.

"What're we gunna do 'bout 'er? We just can't leave 'er," Daryl muttered, narrowing his eyes a bit as he glanced up at Shane who huffed at the both him and Rick. Shane turned on his heel and started back towards the farm.

Daryl stood as he fastened the quiver to his waist. He gently pried the bow from the girl's fingers and slung it over his shoulder. "Well?" Rick didn't look at Daryl.

He sighed, and said, "I guess we can take her back with us. But, we don't know if she's gonna be a threat." Rick stood. "We'd have ta lock her up until we know who she."

Daryl looked at Rick from under his brow and gave a small nod of approval. Rick nodded too. "Alright then."

Rick gathered up the girl and slung her over his shoulder. The two began their trip back to camp, Rick leading and Daryl following. Daryl glanced up at the girl's face silhouetted against Rick's back. She looked almost peaceful. Not emotionless like before; no, she looked calm, content even.

There was something different about this girl, but Daryl couldn't put his finger on what it was. She looked far too young to be out here all alone. Yet, that look in her eye gave him chills. It was almost savage. Hardened under what would normally be decades of abuse, but she couldn't even be of drinkin' age. Hell, she couldn't've been outta high school. Daryl shook the thoughts from his head and kept walking. Why the hell had he lost one fearful little girl and found a one that inspires fear instead.