If there was one thing that stayed consistent with the end of the world – it was how the sun and the moon moved together in synchronicity.

Before the turn, Beth loved to sit out in the middle of her daddy's field and stargaze. Sometimes she'd bring Maggie or Hershel out with her, but mostly she'd bring a few blankets out and sit by herself. Those warm summer nights were one of the things she missed most before the dead started walking.

Sometimes she'd wake up just before dawn, covered in morning dew and dirt, and watch the sun rise and paint the sky into a somewhat watercolor pallet. She loved seeing the colors change from the black-blue of the west to the light pinks and oranges of the east. The grey dawn light would shine through the trees and into the fields. Beth loved the sense of rebirth dawn brought. She loved the constant reassurance of a new start every 24 hours. It brought a sense of comfort, that the only thing consistent in the world was change.

Beth felt a similar shift that night in the funeral home. Daryl's stare pierced her core over the soft candle light. After muttering, "I'ma give that mutt one last chance," he hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Beth filled with the loss of his gaze. She chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully and stared into the dark doorway where he disappeared.

Daryl reemerged quickly, a panicked look in his eye as he started blowing out candles.

"Daryl? What's wrong?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows and pushing her chair back.

"Walkers. Whole bunch of 'em." He paused and turned to her, chewing on his bottom lip. "C'mon, Greene."

After quickly darkening the room, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her bridal style into a small closet towards the back of the home. "I'm gonna grab our shit. Don't fuckin' move. You have your knife, right?" He set her down on the floor as gracefully as he could.

She nodded and brought her knees to her chest.

"I'll be right back." Daryl darted into the dark once more. Clutching the knife, Beth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the pounding and banging outside.

Daryl rejoined her a few moments later, plopping down beside her. His crossbow sat on his lap, a bolt loaded and ready to fire whenever.

Beth reached over and grasped his hand, intertwining their fingers like they had the day before. They sat in the silent dark, and prayed to God that the door would stay shut.

…

Beth woke up with a stiff neck and her cheek pressed against Daryl's shoulder. Sitting up, she yawned and glanced at him, who blinked sleepily back. Pale sunlight streamed in under the door. It was quiet, tranquil after the nightmare that almost happened. They tucked a jar of peanut butter and jelly into their packs each and fell back into the safety of the trees.

Daryl walked and Beth hobbled for the next few hours. She knew they were making bad timing because of her, and she felt terrible about it. Thankfully, her ankle wasn't as sore as it had been two days ago. She was almost tempted to ask Daryl if she could use him as a crutch like she had previously, but she knew that would slow them down even more.

The forest was naturally quiet, the only sounds being the humming of bugs and occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Beth let herself think to what Daryl had said – or hadn't said – at the table. She bit back a small smile and focused on the man walking in front of her, crossbow ready to aim at any moment and ears perked for any unnatural sound. This wasn't going to be the same ballgame as with Jimmy or Zach – this was something different, something special. That thought left her with butterflies in her stomach.

A few miles east of the funeral home, they came upon a few houses, sitting silently in the not-quite-dusk haze. They were dark, shadowed by dark trees.

"Should probably check these out," Daryl said, breaking the silence for the first time since the previous night. "Crash here for a bit."

Beth nodded and cracked her ankle, happy to stop. "Sounds good to me."

"You doin' alright?"

She nodded again. "It hurts but I think its best that it's moving around instead of gettin' stiff. 's gonna be nice sitting down though."

Daryl grunted, a ghost of a smile passing over his features. "Want 'nother piggy back ride?"

Beth grinned and took his hand tentatively, squeezing lightly. "Naw, I'm fine."

He returned the pressure faintly a few moments later, and they crossed the road to the houses hand in hand.

There wasn't much to find in the first house. It smelled like decay and mold and looked as if it had been lived in. Beth was able to find a light blue thermal long sleeve in the master bedroom, which she promptly shoved into her pack. Summer was quickly fading into autumn, and her grey cardigan and yellow polo weren't going to cut it for very much longer. She discovered a pair of jeans close to her size as well.

"Find anything?" Daryl asked when they met back in the living room.

"Just some clothes. You?"

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped the box lightly. "Let's check out the next one."

She didn't have as much luck in the second house compared to the previous one. The bedrooms were in a disarray and had been plucked clean for the most part.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" an unfamiliar male voice thundered from the front of the house. Beth's head shot up from the dusty chest she was searching through, heart seizing as several pairs of boots entered the house, along with different voices laughing and causing a racket.

"Daryl?" she called, unsheathing her knife and gripped it tightly in her fist, ignoring the cold sweat that dripped down her back.

"Beth! Get back!" he yelled. "Hey! Don't fuckin' touch me –"

"I claim the bow!" another strange voice cut him off. This one was closer. "And is there a bitch here? Come on out, sugar!"

Before she knew it, two thick arms were wrapped around her, one across her chest and one over her mouth. She was dragged out into the living room, where she saw Daryl surrounded by a group of men no one would've wanted to come across. "Found her!" a third voice exclaimed.

"Don't-!" Daryl roared, and started to break through the circle of men, earning him a swift punch to the stomach.

Something inside of Beth turned, and she refused to hold back the rage that bubbled inside of her. The man restraining her underestimated her strength, so Beth thrashed and bit down hard on his fleshy hand. He hissed and withdrew his grip. Beth used this opportunity to dart behind him and simultaneously kick the back of his legs in and shove him to the ground. Although he obviously was bigger than her physically, she was faster and used her speed to her advantage. Finally the self-defense lessons she was given at the prison were finally becoming handy.

Her hands shook with adrenaline as she held the hunting knife up to his throat. "Let him go or he gets it," she growled through clenched teeth, hardly recognizing her voice.

A man with grey hair and arrogant posture stepped back and held his hands up mockingly. "It ain't worth it, boys. Let 'im go." This was the first man that spoke, and he was staring at Beth with a menacing glare.

She held his eye and the knife until his group pushed Daryl out of the circle and over to her. She quickly pushed her hostage away and stepped behind Daryl. He pointed his crossbow at the leader, unwavering. Beth spat blood and saliva and positioned her and her knife so she was ready to fight at a moment's notice.

"I'm claiming the bitch. And the vest. I like 'em wings," the second man said with his compound bow pointed at them.

"I'm not a piece of property, asshole."

"Now hold up," the leader said, lowering his arms. "A bowman, huh? I respect that. See, a man with a rifle, he could've been some kind of a photographer or soccer coach back in the day. But, a bowman's a bowman through and through."

Beth glanced up at Daryl, who clenched his jaw and still had the bolt trained on him.

"Whaddya got there? 150 pound draw weight? I'll be licked if that don't fire at least 300 feet per second. I've been lookin' for a weapon like that. 'Course, I'd want a bit more ammo..." He paused, trailing off with a conniving look in his eye. "You pull that trigger, the boys'll drop you several times over and have their way with her." He cocked his head towards Beth. "That what you want?"

She discreetly placed her free hand on Daryl's side. His eyes darted to hers, and she could see the anxiety behind his carefully guarded expression. She gave him a look that read let's be smart about this.

Daryl dropped his aim, never loosening his hold on the bow.

The leader grinned. "Name's Joe."

"Daryl. Beth."

That night, they slept in an "unclaimed" area on gritty tile and dried blood. Beth curled up in between the wall and Daryl, face buried in his side. She could feel him breathing deep and slow, but he wasn't sleeping. He was in a defensive state, one he hadn't let up since Joe and his group first arrived.

"You need to sleep," she whispered, glancing up at him. He tightened the arm he had around her.

"No way. Not with those fucks in the other room."

"Daryl, I'm right here. If they try anythin' you'll know before me," she murmured, rubbing a small circle where her hand rested on his stomach.

He grunted but didn't respond.

"How long are we gonna be with them?" she asked quietly a few minutes later.

"Till we can get away. Hopefully sooner than later," he replied sleepily. "Try to get some sleep, Greene. You're keepin' me up."

Beth smiled slightly and tried to let herself relax in his warmth. She didn't sleep much that night.

…

The next few days spent with Joe's group were miserable. No matter how many times she pretended to have a tough and intimidating exterior, one of them would always make her feel uncomfortable in the worst way possible. She never left Daryl's side for a minute.

The most horrible part was hearing them brag about what they had did to other people. Apparently, they were looking for a man who killed their friend. Beth surmised that if their friend was anything like the rest of them, he killed him with a good reason. She knew Daryl had the same thoughts.

The third night they spent together was out in the woods, which Beth was thankful for. She detested the musty gas stations and garages they had been camping out in. She would have much rather slept on dirt than grimy concrete.

That night was Daryl's turn for watch, so she sat with him until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She kissed his cheek and nestled into the ground with her head slightly on Daryl's lap.

Beth blinked herself awake, forehead still pressed against Daryl's thigh. He was still keeping watch, so she assumed that she had only been asleep for a half hour or so.

"Y'alright?" he asked quietly as she stood up, brushing off the dirt and sticks that clung to her side.

She nodded and whispered, "Just gotta pee. I'll be right over there." Beth pointed to a tree several yards away, but could still be seen in the moonlight.

Daryl nodded. She hiked out to the tree and squatted behind it so she was facing away from the dingy camp. Light shuffling broke the silence. Peering out into the darkness, Beth saw tens – if not a hundred – walkers ambling straight towards camp. There was no doubt the dead would find them.

Quickly finishing up, she ran back to camp, keeping light on her feet. Daryl looked up at her in alarm. "Beth, what's -?"

"Walkers. Tons of 'em," she murmured, throwing her bag over her shoulder. She swallowed back bile before continuing, "There's too many. We gotta go. They'll be too loud and slow us down."

Daryl looked at their snoring companions. Clenching his teeth, he nodded.

As they dodged through the dark, moon shadowed trees, Beth tried to ignore the screams of the evil men being feasted on by the dead. Cold air mixed with adrenaline circulated through her veins through fast breaths and her ankle throbbed as leaves crunched underneath her boots. She focused on the angel wings in front of her that were almost lit up by the moonlight and prayed that God would forgive her.

They came across a few stray walkers, but took them down effortlessly. Beth was beginning to feel exhaustion spread throughout her bones. She panted and followed Daryl, who was starting to look just as tired as she was.

They came across a two lane highway as the sun began to peak through the pine and ash trees in the distance. The road was eerily quiet with no walkers in sight and a few cars sitting silently on the side. Beth kept watch while Daryl rummaged through an old Volkswagen van with faded wood paneling that had seen better days.

Beth eventually felt her heart rate decrease and muscles stiffen. Her feet and knees ached something fierce. A lone walker stumbled out of the trees a few hundred yards away. She watched as it staggered across the road, intestines spilling out and bone protruding from the rotted flesh. Unable to ignore what she had instigated hours before, she vomited what little was in her stomach onto the concrete.

Daryl was by her side in an instant. "Y'alright?" he asked quietly, placing a hesitant hand between her shoulder blades as she dry heaved.

She shook her head, forcing back tears and trying to spit the taste of vomit from her mouth.

Once he got the engine up and running, Daryl motioned for Beth to climb into the passenger's seat. The inside of the van smelt musty and somewhat tangy, but thankfully not of blood and decay. "How much gas do we have?" she asked, finally breaking her silence.

"Enough. I was thinkin' we see how far north we can get. Maybe there won't be as many walkers," he replied, shifting into gear and pressing down on the gas pedal.

Beth looked in the back and saw a mattress, a few blankets, and a couple of cans rolling around. She reached down and picked up a half empty bottle of water that was next to her seat, took a swig, and handed it to Daryl, who gulped down a large mouthful. "Let me know when you want to switch, okay?" she said softly, drawing her knees to her chest.

Daryl grunted and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Beth leaned her head against the window. The early morning sun was starting to create tiny shadows on the road, and the pink of dawn faded into an orangey yellow. "I don't regret it. What we did. What I did. I know I should, and I'm disgusted with myself, but I don't."

After a few beats of silence, Daryl murmured, "Me neither."

Beth closed her eyes in relief. He didn't seem to think she was a cold, heartless person that she never wanted to become. "It's just you an' me, right?"

"You an' me." He met her eyes briefly, and to her surprise, reached over and squeezed her knee.

Beth smiled tiredly at him and leaned her head against the grimy window. She opened up the console and sifted through several old cassette tapes. "How do you feel about John Denver?"

Daryl shrugged. "'S whatever."

Beth pushed the cassette into the player and leaned back into the worn leather seat, dozing off to the sounds of crackly folk music and the hum of the road.