"The saddest thing in the world is an outdoor cat thinks it's an indoor cat," Joe told him. Daryl knew what he meant. Men like Joe and him as well as the rest of these assholes were outdoor cats. They were tough, willing to fight for what they needed, willing to scrounge and make do. The biggest difference, though, was that outdoor cats looked out for number one. They didn't depend on anybody for anything and they didn't owe anybody anything. Merle had kicked that into him from as young as he could remember. "Dixons don't need nobody for nothin'."
Daryl's problem was that he had been on the inside for a while and he'd changed. He'd starting caring about those folks at the prison, starting lettin' them depend on him. Hell, truth be told, he'd needed them too. But all of that had turned to shit, just like anything good in his life always did. They were all gone, more than likely dead, even Beth. He'd lost her and if she was still alive, she was probably wishing she wasn't. He had no hope of finding them again and going it alone wasn't an option anymore. This sorry bunch was about as good as he was gonna do.
Their petty arguments and selfish behavior was wearing on him. The whole business of "claiming" what you wanted sounded more like something off a middle school playground than a way for adults to get along. Another thing he'd learned from Merle, though, was that bullies never really changed all that much.
He'd taken a spot on the floor rather than argue over "claims" when they stopped for the night. He planned on catching a few winks and then getting up early to hunt. Then the whole uproar about the rabbit had happened. He'd watched while the same guys that had traveled with his accuser and been friendly with him had turned on him in the blink of an eye. They'd beat him, kicked and punched him into unconsciousness. It wasn't until the next morning that he realized they'd beaten him to death, and then put him down after he turned, with an arrow to the eye. This was life on the outside. He had two choices, leave and try to survive alone or become a part of this group.
Being like them wasn't hard for him. It was how he grew up. From the time he was old enough to remember, he'd fended for himself, sometimes with help from Merle. There had never been anyone to tell him he was a good boy or tuck him in at night. The best lessons he learned in childhood were how to take a beating without crying and ways to keep himself fed.
Through the past year with Rick, Hershel, Glen, Maggie and Beth, he'd started to put all that away. He'd opened himself up to the good in the world. They'd made him believe it was real. Beth, especially, had sprinkled her little fairy dust in his brain and told him he was better than where he'd come from. He'd bought the lie, lock, stock and barrel, but now reality had come alone and slapped him in the face again. If there were any good people left in the world, they didn't want anything to do with the likes of him. He'd done nothin' but let them all down.
He pulled a dirty tarp out of a corner and started to lay it over the body. It was what the inside Daryl would have done, driven by the desire to find the good even in the worst situations and to treat other people with respect. Then, something inside him pushed that instinct back and he threw the tarp back into its previous location. A piece of shit like the dead guy laying in front of him didn't deserve respect or consideration. He sure as hell wouldn't have given any if the roles were reversed. The old Daryl, the outside cat, was finding his feet again and the rest of these motherfuckers better watch out if they thought he was gonna take their shit from now on.
As they started their walk down the track, Daryl pushed all the warm fuzzy crap to a far back corner. He was on his own again and his walk took on the swagger of a man who doesn't give a shit. If he had to do this then by god they were gonna know they were dealing with a Dixon. He noticed a couple of the guys eyeing an item laying to the side of the track. They tried to act tough but they always waited to see what Joe was going to do before making a move. He wasn't waiting though. It was time to take to stand. "Claim!" he yelled as he picked it up. They all gave him sideways looks but no one challenged him. He could hear Merle's laughter in his head as he walked on down the track, "I told ya baby brother. I always told ya. You don't belong with Officer Friendly's crew, never did. Yep, you ain't nothin' but a mangy old outside cat just like me."