Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even Daryl.

Rule one about being the child of an American redneck: Never watch a show where the redneck is basically the most important person there is.

I have fallen head over heels in love with Daryl Dixon. I would love to be a walker on the show and have Daryl kill me lol!

Anyway, this is my version of what happens after Beth gets taken. I'm completely ignoring how the show went and creating my own reality for it. I'm eliminating that group of wackos Daryl was traveling with, and there will be mentions of Terminus.

Anyway, this is my first TWD fic, so if you like it, leave a review. I don't beg for them, but I do get all excited about them lol.

Sit back and enjoy!

Love always,

Avoline

I just sat there, wondering how the hell I lost the car's tracks. I never lose tracks like that. Never! Yet I couldn't tell which way the car went, and I didn't have time to go each way looking for it. I had one job, one fucking mission! And I still fucked it up.

Beth was gone.

I fought back the tears, just like I always did. I wasn't even going to try and hope that she was okay. That car took her three days ago. There was no way that she was still alive. All I had to do was keep Herchel's daughter alive, and I couldn't even do that. I pushed her away. I did everything I could to make her hate me. I made it clear to her that I would never enjoy her being around.

But I couldn't stop myself from getting to know her. Before I could blink, the girl had gotten into my head.

I was starting to remember why I never let anyone get to close.

My chest ached, and I silently cursed myself. First it was losing Merle. Then I made the mistake of letting Carol get close, only to lose Sophia. Sure, she seemed more free afterwards, but I could see that haunted look in her eyes. Then we lost Andrea. Then I found my brother, only to loose him again. Hell, I had to fucking put him down. After the Governor destroyed our safe haven, it was only me and Beth.

Now it's just me.

A noise to my left reaches my ears, but I tuned it out. I couldn't deal with reality right then. I just wanted to be left alone.

"Hello?"

I shifted my gaze to the side. Large, black animal. A horse, I realized. A massive black horse. I never knew horses got that big.

"You're not one of them, are you?"

A woman. She must be sitting on the horse. Never knew you could ride a horse that big. She sounded scared, and was probably alone. Like me.

"No, I ain't," I growled.

"Thank God," she nearly sobbed. "I thought I was alone." I finally lifted my head to look at her.

Red hair. Brown eyes. There's an old fashioned long bow slung across her torso. The saddle was equipped with a quiver slam full of arrows. Her jeans were a bit worn, but not ripped. Her shirt had just about had it, the material so threadbare that I could see how filthy her bra was.

There was a dear behind the saddle. It was haphazardly secured, but I could tell it was fresh. There was still some blood dripping from the nose.

A trail for the walkers to follow.

"Ya realize dem walkers are gonna foller that blood trail 'till it stops bleedin', right," I muttered, hoping my backwoods accent would make her leave. She could clearly hold her own, but I did not want another life to have to keep alive.

"I was hoping maybe you could help me with that," she answered shyly. "My daddy taught me to hunt, but we never thought about the blood trail left behind. It never crossed our minds." I raised an eyebrow at her. "Please, this is the first kill I've had in weeks. I'll give you half, even lead you to a place with more arrows for your crossbow. Just show me how to stop the blood from dripping."

She sounded so damn pitiful. I could only think of how I felt when I first thought Merle dead. Alone. Scared, even though I wouldn't admit it. If I had been brave enough to ask, I probably would have begged anyone for help as well. That horse was probably all she had left of her family, like Merle's bike was for me.

I stood up and met her gaze. I would not let her loose that horse like I lost Merle's bike.

"Ye got a rag er somethin'," I asked. She handed me an old black bandana. "Ye wanna take yer rag or some clothe an' press it against t'nose, like this." I wadded it up and pressed it against the nose, covering the whole end. "Lemme see that rubber band in yer hair. Ah'll give it back as soon as we cut th' deer up a bit." She pulled it out, and I got a good look at how long her hair was. It damn near reached her ass. "Ye take the rubber band or a length a' string and secure it on th' end. Ye'll have ta change th' rag out ev'ry hour, hour an' a half. Keeps the blood from soakin' strait through." I stepped back and let her admire my handiwork. "An' that's how ye do it."

She looked so damn happy. Like I had showed her the fountain of youth or the holy grail. I could see the tears in her eyes, and I had to look away. Is was almost too much for me to handle, seeing a girl cry. I looked away so she wouldn't see.

"Thank you, mister," she whispered. "Thank you so much." I nearly laughed, thinking of an old Tim McGraw song.

"Ya ain't gotta call me mister, hon," I began, starting to relax a bit. "Name's Daryl, but most call me an 'asshole redneck.'" She laughed, bringing a small smile to my face.

"I'm Annie," she stated. Ironic. A red head named Annie. "Climb on. I know where there's a Bass Pro Shop that hasn't been touched."

I'm starting to like this girl.