I'm staying true to a lot of the TV Walking Dead events, characters, and locations... just changing the timeline for how certain people are introduced and how certain things happen. It will follow the original storyline fairly closely, only changing enough to add my original character and alter things accordingly.

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Daryl Dixon was trailing a little behind the group of men who had found him on the road. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about them yet. They had a code, and they'd helped him fight off a substantial group of walkers, but there was something about them and their leader that just felt off. Not that it mattered, he'd been separated from Rick and the others and was grateful to not be traveling down this infested road on his own. That didn't stop him from keeping a wary eye on all of them, especially the one that had tried to "claim" his jacket.

Fortunately the leader of the raiders, Joe, seemed to have perfect control over the group and also had a strong enough code that as long as Daryl followed the rules everything would be smooth. As smooth as anything ever was these days. It didn't even matter, he knew he'd only be staying overnight and then he'd be on his way back to the prison.

"Len, it's your turn to feed the dog." Joe remarked on the way back to their camp.

"It's always my turn." The dark haired man glowered a little.

The leader of the gang smacked Len on the shoulder. "It ain't my fault you claimed her. You gotta take responsibility if you want her to stick around."

Daryl looked between the two men with some curiosity. He guessed even a rag-tag group of raiders like this would enjoy having an animal around to keep them company. Even the mangy mutt that had caused him and Beth to be separated hadn't affected the fondness he had for the breed in general. He remained silent, not eager to speak to these men more than he absolutely had to.

The trek to the camp wasn't too long, and it was also fairly uneventful. The same scenery as was common now marked their path: empty road, abandoned cars, burned out buildings, a few walkers easily taken care of by the group. Finally a distinct camp came into view, set up a bit off the road in an old house. A large doghouse sat next to the porch, with a metal dish half full of water sitting in front of it.

"Hey Pup!" Len called out as the group neared the house, his step picking up a little bit and a smile on his face. "Time for dinner, Daddy's home!"

Some of the men chuckled and even Daryl's lips twitched up into a smirk. "What's 'er name? Yer dog."

"We just call her Pup. Sometimes Puppy." Len grinned at him, "She's all mine now though, y'hear? I claimed her." He shook his head and loped over to the doghouse, kicking the side of it, "I got ya something special Pup, come and get it…" He took a knee in front of the opening of the structure and took a chocolate bar out of his satchel, dangling it in front of the dark entrance.

"Ya ain't 'sposed to give dogs stuff like 'at." Daryl mentioned as he walked past, going up onto the front porch but turning to watch as the rest of the group laughed. He stopped himself from looking as confused as he felt, wondering what he'd said to get such a reaction.

Len was still trying to coax the dog out, but he was now getting a little annoyed and Daryl was starting to wonder if there was even a dog in there at all. "Pup, you got ten seconds to get the hell out here or I swear I'm gon' whip you."

There was the clinking of a heavy chain and then a human hand appeared in the opening. Daryl's hand went to his crossbow, waiting to see a walker come out, but his fingers relaxed and his eyes widened when a small brunette form crawled from the dog house, obviously not a walker, and very obviously not the dog everyone had been referring to.

"Puppy…" Len ran his fingers through the long brown hair of the figure in front of him, almost tenderly, before his fingers clenched and he wrenched a handful of the hair back. The prisoner's legs scrabbled in the dirt for purchase as their spine bent backward, pulled by Len's forceful hand "…how many times we talked about you coming to greet me when I get back from a run?"

Daryl's jaw set hard as he took in the girl that Len had apparently "claimed." She was short, he could tell that even with her body being contorted like a bendy straw… and she was pretty, far too pretty for hicks like these. A dusting of freckles highlighted the fair skin on her nose, cheeks, and shoulders, and he could see the controlled fear in her eyes from the top of the porch. Her breathing was coming in short bursts and he could see the pulse in her neck as she did her best to nod, "I— I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry, what?" Len grinned, keeping her head pulled back painfully tight with one hand and running the other up her curved sides. A tiny jerk was the largest wince she could manage in her position and her eyes flitted to Daryl before flinching back to her captor as he traced his free fingers up to the thick metal collar and chain around her neck.

"I'm sorry… master…" The girl whimpered softly, causing a raucous round of laughter from Len and the others.

Daryl could feel his whole body tensing, sick to his stomach as he watched. He ground his teeth as he tried to seem impassive. It took all he had not to release the tension with his fists as Joe's hand landed on his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you settled in." The archer swallowed with some effort, but nodded and let the older man lead him inside the house.

Later that night as they were all sitting at the table with their rations, Daryl looked up from his tin plate of beans, "So what's up with the girl?"

Len glared as he met Daryl's eyes, "She's mine, don't you go getting any ideas."

Hands up, Daryl shrugged, "Not sayin' she ain't, just askin' man."

Joe looked up from his meal and chided Len, "He's not trying to take your claim Len, I'm sure he's just getting used to the way we do things."

Daryl's jaw clenched as he thought about the girl, being treated like an object by men like these. He'd already decided that when he left, he'd be taking her with him, back to the prison where she'd have a chance to be looked after.

"Found her during a raid." Len said, breaking his train of thought. "Prettiest little thing I ever did see. Special though, walkers don't like her, they actually ignore her. That's why I keep her outside, instead of tied to my bed. She's better than a string of cans for an alarm."

The archer didn't reply, just looking between the men and going back to focusing on the food in front of him. His mind was racing, wondering if the story could actually be true. A human that could move among walkers without getting attacked? That seemed too good. An ace for any group. Yet these men didn't seem to care about anything other than her being a piece of ass and a watch dog.

Not used to the rules yet, the beds in the house had all been claimed before Daryl could even think about where he was planning on sleeping. He stayed quiet, not claiming anything and just settling into what must have once been a living room on the floor, resting his head on his knapsack and covering up with his poncho for warmth.

After almost half and hour silence had fallen over the house, and it seemed the rest of the group had finally fallen asleep. Daryl sat up as slowly and quietly as possible, making his way to the front door while being careful not to upset anything that could cause a racket. He was able to open the front door up without fear of knocking a line of tin cans thanks to what Len had said about the girl.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized that the object of his focus was standing as close as possible to the street. The chain attached to the collar around her neck reached for ten feet back into the dog house and his eyes followed it from there to where her thin form was illuminated by the moon. Despite the fact that her only clothing was an oversized plaid button-up that went almost down to her knees, he could sense that the cold didn't bother her.

As he approached, her head turned and she looked at him with a sort of calm that was an unnerving difference from the fear she'd shown earlier with Len. "Hey." He nodded at her, stopping now that she was looking at him. "You 'kay?" She tilted her head at him, and for a second he regretfully compared her to an actual puppy. He had a flash of wondering if that's how they decided to name her before he took another step forward. "I'm Daryl. What's yer name?"

"Puppy." It seemed to be automatic, for her to answer that way.

His chest tightened painfully. "Yer real name. Not the one the jackasses call you."

She paused and smiled a little. "Henrietta."

"Henri. That's cute." He took another few steps until there were only a few feet separating them. "You ain't scared of me." It wasn't a question.

"I don't need to be."

Daryl had never thought of himself to be very tall, but this little woman was a full head shorter than him at least. He looked her over. "You can't know that for sure."

Henrietta raised her hands to rub underneath the heavy collar, wincing a little. "Just because you're with them doesn't mean you're one of them. I can tell."

"How?"

She shrugged. "When Len had me, you looked like you were in just as much pain as I was. People don't look like that if they don't care, and most people don't care these days. Not enough to show it. Don't worry, I don't think the others noticed." He could see the beginnings of a smile even in the dark. "They're all pretty dumb."

"They're cruel."

"Cruel and dumb." She tilted her head again, "But you're neither of those things."

Daryl shuffled his feet, moving from side to side as he watched her. After a few moments of silence he finally spoke again. "Is it true? What they told me about you and the walkers… they said walkers don't bother you."

The girl nodded. "God knows why, but they kind of act like I'm not even there. If they do notice me they don't seem to mind me being around." She shuddered. "The living have always been more of a danger to me than the dead."

"That's obvious…" Daryl's gaze went to her collar. He could feel his chest heating up in anger again. She was so small and the collar looked heavy and painful and like it had been on for far longer than was humane. Not that it surprised him, based on the small amount of time he'd spent around the group.

A light upstairs in the house turned on and Henrietta went pale. She moved quick as lightening, pushing Daryl towards the house and hissing under her breath, "Go back inside, don't let them know you've been talking to me."

"I have a group, I'm gonna be goin' back there, I want to take you with me." He whispered back, following her lead, but slowly so he could get out what he wanted to say.

She put her head down and her hair slid in front of her face so her expression was hidden. "If only it were that easy." With one last push she sent him up the stairs of the porch and hurried back to her dog house, disappearing through the opening.

Daryl got one hand on the door knob before it was flung open with vigor by the silhouette of Joe. "Daryl… what you doing out here so late?"

The archer shuffled, looking up through greasy bangs. "Just takin' a smoke."

Joe nodded, smiling with a sort of cheerfulness that put the other man on edge in a bad way. "Puppy show her face at all?"

A shrug later, Daryl answered with a simple, "Naw."

"Well… she's shy of strangers. Didn't figure she would be comfortable around you right away."

Daryl stopped himself from replying and just shrugged his way inside, going back to his place on the floor of the main room as Joe closed the door and went back upstairs. He was so worked up over the whole situation with the girl in the dog house that it took him a good hour or so to fall asleep, and even then it was only because he was too physically exhausted to keep his eyes open.