This is my first time on fanfiction in a while. Really into Walking Dead, esp. Norman Reedus, lol. To all my past Twilight fanfic fans, I regret to inform you that due to my lack of interest in the Twilight Series as of the past idk two years has led me to the decision to put the stories up for adoption. Feel free to pm me abt it. I am deeply sorry if this news makes you sad, I can only hope that my immensely improved writing skills and hopefully kickass story is enough of an apology to make up for it.

SO, here goes.

Chapter One: Alizarin Crimson

The hunter stalked silently through the woods, squinting at the patches of sunlight that shone brightly through the thick Georgia foliage. Two weeks, three days, and 18 days since the world had gone to shit, and Daryl Dixon was well on his way to shooting his older brother in the face.

"C'mon, Darlina, let's pick up the pace! Whaddya think yer trackin', one'a them Walkers?" Daryl grunted unintelligently at Merle; he had given up arguing a long time ago. It hadn't been a month ago that the two of them found themselves staring at each other from opposite sides of the double-paned glass at the clink Merle had found himself in, no better for ware than they were now. The dead coming alive to devour the living was simply another curveball the brothers had thrown at them; just like their mom's unnecessary and untimely death, their dad's drunken rage, Merle's delinquency and drug issues. Life, after all, had never really been so kind to the Dixon brothers. Daryl in particular. But he was a fighter. A survivor. He was better.

The rustling of leaves nearby snapped the younger brother from his determined thoughts, and he crept forward, aiming his crossbow. This fucker, whatever the hell it was, was hopefully dinner. As he prepared to shoot, he listened for the sound again, and frowned. Fuck, sounds like footsteps. The hunter peered around a tree, finger braced on the trigger of his crossbow ready for a Walker, when suddenly into his line of fire fell a small, young woman. "Jesus fuck!" he cursed as he dropped his bow and she fell into his arms, one of his arrows piercing her shoulder.

"HahahaHA! You gone and shot a lil' girlie! Son of a bitch, that's gotta hurt!" She moaned, and Daryl swore again. Good job asshole, you went and shot some poor girl. "You 'wake?" The girl whimpered and looked up at him with big green eyes. "Ye-Yeah, I can walk. You bastard!" He almost laughed at her insult as she winced and grabbed her wounded shoulder. "Think this'll come out?"This time, Daryl did laugh. "Can't stay in, cannit?" He snorted at her as he picked up his crossbow and took the rear, the two following Merle back to camp.

As Daryl skinned the two meager squirrels he had managed to catch before shooting the still nameless girl, she sat on the ground, warming her dirty bare feet on the small fire he had prepared. Merle had disappeared into the tent long ago, as soon as they had come back to camp in fact. Goddamn junkie. Daryl angrily gutted the last squirrel and impaled it with a stick to cook it over the fire.

"What's yer name, lil lady?" Daryl smirked at the girl sitting across from him. It was almost comical, her looking at him with the arrow still coming out of her shoulder. "Tell you what," she started, momentarily faltering to catch her breath. "Get this thing outta my arm, then we can make nice, oki?" It was then that he realized how stupid he had been. Shoulda pulled it out as soon as they got back. "A'right, lemme go get somethin' to stop tha bleedin'."

As he rummaged through his truck, all Daryl could think about was those eyes. Those damn green eyes. The way the fire danced in them. She was odd. Quiet. But, not quiet, too. Just, odd. He grunted as he slammed his cab door shut, grasping his ratty handcloth. As he walked back to the fire, he stopped to really look at the girl. She was small, very small, and her hair was chopped short, shorter than his. She had wide green eyes and small, but full lips, slightly chapped, what with it being the end of the world and all. She was dressed in a sleeveless DC sweatshirt, and a swirly wooden gauge hung from one of her pierced ears. He had to admit, as odd as she was, she was damn nice to look at. He walked around the fire, and sat down on the ground next to her.

"List'n lil lady, this gon' hurt," the hunter warned, gripping the arrow with one hand and his knife with the other. "Gon' try an' cut the son'a'bitch's head off, then slide it out nice an easy, a'right?" He surprised himself at his gruff yet almost comforting tone. He couldn't help but feel guilty for shooting her, especially when she made that damned face. Even in pain she was striking. As he brought his knife down to saw through it, he looked at her, and held he shoulder with one hand "W-what-FUCK!" She cursed loudly as his other hand snapped the arrow head off, and quickly grabbed the rag, holding it to the wound. "Figgered it'd be easier ta not tell you, sorry lil lady. Now comes the hard part." She whimpered, and he slowly pulled the arrow out of her shoulder, stopping when she started to squirm. "Don' make me have Merle hold ya down, you would'n like that." He mumbled as he used his other hand to steady her. He didn't really know why he was doing this, when he could have just left her for dead. I mean, after all, it was the zombie apocalypse. You couldn't blame someone for looking the other way and moving on when it could mean the difference between life and death. It was survival of the fittest. Every goddamn man for himself. Daryl figured it was because he had been the one to shoot her. That and those goddamn green eyes. Jesus.

He shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts as he finished taking the arrow out. "Yer gonna hafta take that thing off so I can wrap yer shoulder up, sorry." He looked down at the ground as the slender girl struggled to get out of her sweatshirt. "Luna. And yer gonna have to help a girl out here, Sharpshooter." His eyes shot up to meet her green ones. They were slightly red, and he could see the remnants of tears left behind on her dirty face. He pitied the girl, and swallowed his pride, helping her out of the sweatshirt carefully. "Probly shoulda done that 'fore I took that nasty bitch outta yer arm. Wasn't thinkin'."

Luna laughed weakly as he wrapped up her shoulder carefully. "That supposed to be an apology Sharpshooter? 'Cuz if it was, it was a pretty shitty one." He snorted at her, but never looked up at her shoulder. Her skin was soft, despite the layer of grime, and the grooves of her collarbones were defined, making beautiful crevices in her chest. Her chest. Daryl silently thanked himself for the small fire and dim lighting as he stole sneaking glances at her when she wasn't watching him intently.

Odd. Intruiging. But really, really nice to look at.

Luna woke to the smell of a dying fire and the sounds of a brewing argument between the strangers she had met the previous afternoon. She had been walking through the dense forest when out of nowhere some grimy Georgian redneck and his buddy found her. She knew that the older looking one was Merle, but still had no idea who the younger one was. Darlina couldn't really be his name, could it? She had fallen asleep shortly after the hunter had finished wrapping up her injured shoulder, and now found herself completely disoriented.

"We're bringin' her back, Merle!"

"No, we ain't!"

"Dammit! I fuck'n shot the girl, an you wanna leave 'er here?! I oughtta kick yer ass y'know."

"Like ta see ya try, lil Darlina! We ain't bringin' her back lil bro, that's that!"

She watched in shock as the younger one growled and pounced on Merle, but soon was overpowered.

"Um, excuse me?" The two brothers finally noticed her prescence, awake and aware, and Merle smiled. "Well well well, lookie here, sugartits woke up! Looks like we don' hafta leave ya sorry ass behind," He grinned at her toothily, and she shivered slightly, looking to the blue-eyed hunter who was still red-faced and fuming. "Git off me, Merle!" He brought his elbow back into Merle as he let him go, and the two got off the ground.

"I don't think we've formally met, lil lady, but this here's my lil bro, Daryl, he's the bastard tha' shot ya!" Merle stopped to laugh and spit on the ground. "We got us a camp with a few others back at this quarry, we can trust ya, right?" She gulped and nodded, and he gestured to the pickup truck.

"Well hop in!"