Daryl Dixon was seated a good way from the group contently picking the spotted feathers out of an owl he had shot when they were clearing out a house. The outside air was cool against his skin. The moon wasn't out yet, and here and there were scatters of stars. He looked up at his group. The fire was dancing across their smiling faces. They felt safe for once.
He was trying to ignore the conversation that his fellow survivors were having. Each of them telling their story of their lives before they found each other. The Asian kid was going on about him sneaking about, and Rick joked that he had slept through the entire thing. Lori was stroking her tummy and smiled as she felt the baby kick.
Daryl noticed Carol looking in his direction. "What's your story?" She asked him in her soft voice. Everyone turned to look at him. He was seated on the grass away from the people so that he wouldn't have to speak about himself. He looked down at the pile of feathers in front of him.
He wasn't in a particularly sharing mood, he was hungry and tired and his back ached from hauling Zombies the entire day onto a pile to burn in the Prison Court Yard. He'd done his share of work in the past, all he wanted was to be left alone.
"Don't got one, an' if I did, I wouldn't be tellin' you 'bout it." He said and yanked a bunch of feathers from the almost naked bird. He stood from his spot and walked over to the fire to place the naked bird on the orange flames. "Just one story please Daryl." Carl said throwing the stick he was holding into the fire and turned his body to get a better view of the tracker.
The meat of the owl was sizzling on the open fire and Daryl's stomach growled. He could always lie and tell some story of him living in a cabin in the woods. but he decided against that when he saw the look of interest in Carl's eyes. "Fine, but don't you go on interrupting me."
Daryl went back to his spot and waited for everyone to settle, all eyes were on him. He stared at the fire and started telling his story.
"Seven years ago I was 29, that was when this all started. I lived in Georgia at the time of the breakout, and Merle was in prison in Atlanta. My dad got bit by a Walker and I shot him dead, not that I minded, I'd wanted to do that for so long. I was makin' my way through a parking lot when I heard a girl screamin' her freaking lungs out. At first I just kept going and ignored the screams and thought that she'd die in a few minutes, but then she was swearin' and I saw her on the roof of an SUV killing off Walkers Two at a time with kitchen knives."
He stopped and walked to turn the owl over, his mouth watered at the smell of the cooked meat. He sat down, not so far away this time and continued telling the group about his past. The images in his mind played out like a movie. Vivid red and green movements. He half smiled at the sweet memory.
