A/N: So I'll update this fairly regularly, since I have it mostly written already. Hope you guys like it

Disclaimer: The Walking Dead (c) Robert Kirkman

The summer had slipped away. The trees were beginning to look orangey and bare in the coming autumn season. Autumn didn't last long in Georgia. It was just the short amount of time between seasons for the leaves to die and the snow to fall. It was the kind of natural event to set the group to holding their breath in wait, the calm before the storm. And the calm was beautiful.

Daryl had always loved the fall before. There were too many colors to take in at one glance. The crisp, clear air filled his lungs as he had strode through the forest on his own. The green faded away to browns, golds, and oranges. Before they'd held the most beauty he'd ever beheld. Now it was only the death of another kind in the world which he lived in.

With the autumn, and the indisputable winter coming, the animals were becoming scarce. Many of them were going into hibernation, or migrating south, or simply being eaten. Which made hunting hours even longer and with less to show for it.

Runs were becoming more and more crucial. They were dire to the group's survival since the hunting was practically stamped out for the time being. Often their choices were between large roads with the stocked cars and towns and herds, or the backwoods with old abandoned houses they could pick clean after other survivors. But they managed. They survived.

But it was only autumn.

"You're pulling down and left. Recenter," Daryl said, eyeing Carol's arm as she shot her third bullet at the old beer bottle which posed as a target.

Shooting practice was a necessity at that point. They took the inexperienced of the group out one at a time and shot only a few rounds at a target to get a feel for the weapon. And to improve over time. If they wanted to survive, they did need to fight for it. Like Shane had said. Everyone needed to learn to shoot accurately. They couldn't afford any liabilities in this new, cruel world.

Carol sighed, then aimed again. Her bullet was more centered, but still low. It smashed through the branch which the bottle rested on.

"Try again. Aim higher, just a little."

Daryl and Carol had walked out a few miles sometime in the afternoon. The further they could get from the house the group had currently settled in, the better. It was best not to draw an unnecessary herd on their heads with gun practice.

Carol shot again, this time smashing the bottle into a million ale-colored shards. She turned a wide smile to him, bigger and brighter than he'd seen on her face in a while. He couldn't help but return his own sheepish one.

"I've got six bullets left," Carol said, checking the chamber.

Daryl nodded, "Let's head back. Gotta conserve ammo. We can practice some more later."

"Alright," Carol followed in step with him as they started back towards the house where the group had holed up.

The breath before his face was white, distracting him for a moment from the path in front of him. The days were getting colder, darker. Yet, there was still an aching beauty of the nature around them. The forest still clinging to the last edges of life.

"It's really pretty out here," Carol stated, as if reading his thoughts.

"Yeah, fall always is."

Carol opened her mouth to speak, but Daryl held his hand up. His eyes scanned the trees around them, listening. Carol looked around as well. Distantly, they could hear the low growls of the walking dead coming in their direction from somewhere in the forest.

Daryl took another inventory around, his crossbow up and ready. So far, no geeks had made their way towards them from the brush, intent on tearing their skin from their bones.

"Where are they comin' from?" Carol whispered.

Daryl squinted his eyes, then gestured to the east, "I think that way."

"Then we should go west."

They kept their footsteps light as they made their way west. Daryl's feet landed among the crackling leaves with foresight and skill, every move designed to be stealthy. Carol had had no such training. She'd had no reason nor experience to learn so before. Her feet snapped every dry and dead thing they came in contact with. But so far no geeks had heard them and come running for dinner. The gunshots from Carol's practice must've drawn the geeks in, but they had gotten away quick enough to avoid the gathered herd.

At the edge of the forest was a clearing. They stopped when the trees did and watched as it opened up to the wide top of a ravine. The dirt was dry and light, as if autumn hadn't touched it yet and it was still living in the summer heat, soaking in the moisture from the air.

Daryl stepped right up to the cliff's edge, peering down as his toes grazed the open space beneath. Down below, there were a couple dozen walkers meandering about. The ravine bottom itself looked like some kind of creek bed. Long dried out. The weeds and greenery grew over and into it, pouring down the way like they had taken the place of the absent water.

He glanced beside him to see Carol standing right there. She'd fearlessly taken on the height, head held high in the chilled breeze. A glow of pride for her warmed him slightly. She'd really come far since he'd first met her at the quarry.

"Let's not take a tumble down there," Daryl spat over the edge. "The fall don't kill ya, them walkers will."

Carol nodded, "Good tip. 'Cause I was really considering it."

Daryl rolled his eyes as she grinned impishly.

They walked the edge of the ravine together, south towards the hideout of the group. Carol drew her sweater around herself, trying to hold in the heat with the thin material. The months were getting colder as the coming winter wrestled the summer air out of the way.

"It ain't too far back to camp," He said quietly, glancing at her slightly trembling shoulders. "A few miles."

"Good," Carol said, nodding again.

As they walked, the naturally cleared path along the gorge gradually filled with boulders and rocks. Some were about as tall as Daryl or even taller, some was just gravel. Each ranged in size.

They made their way through the craggy maze, footsteps grinding into the sharp stones below. Daryl watched as Carol ran her hand through the tall, golden grass. It had sprouted up and in between the rocks and boulders, as if it were trying to reach the sun's warm light before the inevitable frost obliterated it.

Carol looked at him again, as if she could feel his eyes on her. She smiled at him gently, still trancing her hand through the dead grass. Daryl smiled a little at her and kept walking.

The only warning sound of the coming walkers was the wind-blown and downed out moan as they came out from around a large boulder. One stumbled into Daryl's path, snapping at his face. The other groped the air for Carol's flesh and blood.

Daryl pulled out his hunting knife as fast as he could, the thing already gripping onto the front of his jacket. Pushing forward hard against it's chest, Daryl crashed it and himself against and on top of the boulder beside him, the grainy dirt at it's base toppling off the ravine edge.

He plunged the knife deep into the walker's skull, viscera and ooze spurting out as he twisted the blade for good measure. Making sure the twice dead thing wouldn't need a third try. The boney fingers which had clung to his clothes relaxed and released.

Daryl almost heaved a sigh of relief when the boulder his body lay sprawled across started to slip. The ground around it cracking like a damn egg shell. It was about to fall into the ravine. With him and that dead walker on board.

Before he could leap from it, Carol grabbed his wrist and pulled him to solid ground. Just as his knees hit the dirt, the boulder behind him was airborne, taking his last victim down with it.

Daryl could feel his heart pounding as he ground his knees in the rocky dirt, turning to watch. Carol's hand's were wrapped protectively around his arm, but he didn't really care all that much in the moment. They leaned forward over the gap in the ravine edge which the boulder left. Down below, the boulder crashed into the dried up creek bed. The sound of stone against stone in the echoey gorge rang throughout the forest like damned church bells.

Standing, Daryl picked up Carol's blackened and bloodied knife. Beside it lay the rotting corpse of the walker she'd just killed. He felt that sense of pride for her swell in him again.

He wiped the blade on his pants, "You dropped this."

She took it as he handed it to her, "Thanks. We should get outta here."

"Yeah."

Carol stood beside him as he ground his boots into the soil. Daryl felt the steadiness of the earth below his feet. It reminded him again of how much he wanted to live. To survive.

Maybe that resolution was just in time for him to die.

A/N: Annnnnddd cliffhanger... Reviews are encouraging :)