The sun dipped low behind the pine trees along the crest of the hills and the only sound that could be heard was the water falling peacefully over the rocks in a nearby creek. No birds, no crickets, no coyotes wailing woefully into the Georgia twilight. The world had changed in the blink of an eye. But she had not. She kept on living the way she had before the world had gone to shit. The fireplace crackled inside the cabin that she had made her refuge. Her grandfather had been kind when he left it to her and not her unthankful brother and his slut of a wife. She had no idea where they were now. Dead or alive? Her heart was at war with itself. Half of her wanted to hop in the Jeep and make like a hornet towards Northeastern Tennessee. The other half said, "Fuck 'em. They left you for dead on the side of the road." Right now, the second half was winning. She turned to make her way back inside the cabin when a twig snap and the unmistakable smell of decaying flesh wafted its way to her nose. Backing up into the door frame, she reached up to grab the shotgun that hung above the door inside. She stood and listened for a few seconds before warily making her way out into the woods surrounding the cabin. Every few feet, she would stop and listen again, waiting to hear the groaning and gurgling. The stench got stronger to the west, but she heard no noise. She was about to give up and head back towards the cabin when a glimpse of something creeping through the underbrush parallel to her position, caught her eye. Then, the stench thickened even more. There was a walker just 60 feet from whatever was creeping in the woods. She took aim at the walker but paused when she heard a muffled groan coming from the underbrush. It was a person. A live one! The part of her heart that screamed for her to go back to Tennessee took over without asking her and she took aim again. The shotgun slug whistled through the air and connected with the walker's skull before blasting through the other side in a splatter of brain matter and bone. She stood and listened for more walkers before proceeding towards the human lying in the brush. She came upon a man lying on his back drifting in and out of consciousness. She bent down over him and tried to assess his current condition. He had a big gash on the side of his head and a puncture wound in his side. His blue eyes darted across her face before closing and passing out finally. Just inches from his outstretched hand, a crossbow sat in the dead leaves cocked but not loaded. He was far too big for her to pick up and carry back to the cabin so she settled on dragging him on a makeshift stretcher made from an old quilt in the back of the Jeep. She tried to be as gentle as possible when moving him onto the quilt but it was impossible to be gentle and efficient in this situation. It took her the better part of an hour to drag him into the cabin and onto the cot where she normally slept. After cleaning his head and face, she gingerly stripped him of his shirt soaked in blood and set to work patching up the puncture wound in his side. Her hands worked deftly to sew up the hole with a needle and thread. He came around once while she did this, just groaning before passing out again. Her sewing skills weren't great but they were good enough to patch the wound. Normally, she would never aid another human being like this. She would provide directions, water, sometimes food but never drag an injured man into her home and fix him up. A part of her that she thought that she had lost long ago kicked in when she saw the man lying in the woods. Three hours passed before he stirred again, waking her from the incessant pull of sleep as she sat in the ancient rocking chair next to the fireplace. The man bolted upright in the cot, coughing and spluttering. She rose from the chair and handed him a glass of water. He didn't even look at her as she handed it to him. He downed the whole glass in one gulp and lay back down and went to sleep. She stood and stared at him for a second as he slept. Her thoughts took her back to the summer that she worked at a 4H farm in Abingdon, Virginia. That was the summer that she lost her virginity to a boy with blue eyes from Johnson City. His name was Clint and it was horrible. Things were awkward for the rest of the summer between them and they never saw each other again.
There was no more fresh meat in the cabin so she would have to leave the man alone for a while at dawn so she could hunt something for him to eat. She still didn't know why she was going out of her way for a stranger like this. But nonetheless, they both needed to eat. She sat back in the rocking chair and watched the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall until she finally let sleep consume her. At dawn she awoke to the man still sleeping peacefully. She checked his wounds again and bathed his face and head with water. He smelled like he hadn't washed in a while. That would be issue number two to discuss after breakfast. She took the .22 rifle out of the gun cabinet and headed out to find something for breakfast. She turned and looked at the man again before closing the door behind her.
An hour and a half later, she had bagged 3 squirrels and a scrawny rabbit. She would let him decide what he wanted. As she neared the cabin, something didn't feel right. She put the feeling away chalking it up to the fact that there was a strange man sleeping in her bed. She stashed the kill away in an old cooler on the porch before opening the door. She looked around the cabin and her eyes settled on the empty cot near the window. In a split second there was a knife to her throat and a muscled, dirty arm wrapped around her chest. Without thinking, she stomped down hard on his foot and elbowed him in the stomach. The knife dropped to the floor with a clang and the man bent over whining.
"Is this how you treat people that try to help you?" She asked angrily.
"How the fuck am I supposed to know who you are?" He said through coughs while clutching his side.
"Sit down before you pull those stitches."
He scoffed at her but did as he was told and sat back down on the cot.
"Where the hell am I?"
"You're about 15 miles north of Jasper."
"Fuck, I'm two days ride from the farm."
She milled about the cabin gathering the things she needed to cook the squirrels and rabbit. She tried to ignore him the best she could as he muttered something about a farm but it was hard to ignore the half-naked man sitting on her bed. He wasn't unpleasant to look at but he wasn't conventionally good looking either.
"Hey, little girl. I asked you a question."
Before he had time to react a coffee mug went flying through the air and just grazed past his left ear.
"What the fuck was that for?" He screamed at her.
"I have a name."
"Well then what is it?" He asked sneering at her.
"June."
"June? Like the bug?"
"No, like the month."
"Ok, June. What happened to me? And where is my bow?"
"A walker almost got ya out there. Your bow is on the porch."
She gathered up the cans of veggies from the cabinet and took them outside to the campfire where she cooked the meals. The man's eyes followed her until she could only be seen through the window. June was kicking herself now for helping the man whose name she still didn't know. She started the fire and took the prey out of the cooler before heading back inside. She held up the string of rodents for him to see.
"What do you want? Squirrel or rabbit?"
"Squirrel." He replied gruffly.
She nodded and went outside to gut and clean the 3 squirrels. He followed her outside and leaned against the door frame and watched her. His eyes burned into her as she worked.
"Daryl." He was all he said after about 3 minutes in silence.
"Daryl? As in Hannah or Hall?"
"As in Dixon. Daryl Dixon."
"Humph…well Daryl you smell like manure. There's some soap on that stump over there and a creek down there." She motioned to the right of the cabin. "This should be ready in about an hour."
He let out a big sigh and headed towards the stump and creek.
"And don't do anything stupid like pulling out those fucking stitches!" She called after him.
After putting the squirrel meat into the pot to cook, her curiosity got the better of her. She crept down to the creek but stayed out of sight as he washed. He stood naked in the knee deep water trying to wash his back. It had been a long time since she had seen another human let alone a man. Her carnal urges were trying to break through the tough walls that she had built around herself. After a few minutes more of watching the man bathe she headed back towards the cabin. Once inside, she looked at herself in the mirror her grandmother had hung on the wall almost 40 years ago. She wasn't pretty, at least not in the way 90% of the male population would appreciate. Her turquoise eyes were too big for the rest of her face, her teeth were crooked and she had a generous sprinkling of light brown freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her red hair was full of tangles and was falling out of the loose bun that she had coiled it into. She then looked down at the dirty jeans full of holes and the old tank top that was now threadbare and full of holes. The longer she looked in the mirror, the angrier she got at herself and the world. She let out an angry breath and took the mirror off of the wall and hurled it into the wood shed out back. The mirror broke into a thousand tiny pieces and she immediately felt bad for destroying her grandmother's mirror. Her guilt retreated as she heard Daryl coming through the trees.
"What was that noise?" He called to her.
"Nothing." She said sharply.
"Hey, can I trouble you for a shirt or something?" He asked sounding genuine.
"Yeah, hold on."
She went inside the cabin and rifled through an old dresser in the back bedroom. She came back outside and produced an old work shirt that must have belonged to her grandfather.
"Thanks."
"Yeah."
He turned around and put the shirt on.
"Sorry about the knife thing earlier."
"It's fine. Sorry about the elbow in the gut thing earlier."
"Its fine." He stared out at the woods in silence for a minute.
She stared at his back while she fed the fire.
"In a couple of more days, after your wounds heal and the threat of infection has passed, I'll take you back where you came from. What were you doing out there anyways?"
A long silence passed before he replied.
"I was tracking a little girl."
She looked at him a little surprised. She had never thought about him being out there to help someone else.
"Go inside and rest. I'll bring you a bowl when it's done."
He turned and went inside the cabin without another look in her direction. As he passed the threshold he picked up his crossbow she had leaned against the cabin. Once the stew was finished, she ladled the man up a bowl and took it to him inside. When she handed it to him, his fingertips brushed hers and lingered a little longer than what was considered polite. He looked up at her with sapphire eyes until she turned and left him to eat. She turned to head back outside when he stopped her.
"Aint ya gonna eat?" He asked through a southern drawl.
"I don't eat squirrel." She replied and headed down to the creek to bathe.
June let the cool water rinse the dirt and grime out of her hair and off of her body under the canopy of trees that shaded the creek. She tried to untangle the rat's nest of her hair with her fingers but decided to give up and look for a comb back at the cabin. After finishing off the bowl of squirrel stew, the man stood out on the porch and looked around. He heard a soft humming coming from the direction of the creek and followed it. He knelt quietly behind an old oak tree and spied on the woman that had saved his life. She sat on a rock scrubbing the dirt from between her toes and continued to hum a song he didn't know. He couldn't remember the last time he had been alone with a woman with for an extended amount of time with the possibility of getting laid. She hopped off the rock and bent down to wet her hair. He crept closer trying to be as silent as possible but when he did a twig snapped under his boot. The woman whipped her head up and stood stock still listening to the woods around her.
"Shit." He mouthed to himself behind the tree.
Luckily she didn't spot him and went back to washing her hair. He had decided that he had stayed long enough and went back to the cabin.
She knew that he had been watching her down in the creek from behind the ancient oak tree. She wasn't sure what to think of him anymore. The only interaction they had had was somewhat civil in nature. He came off as rude and uncomfortable around other people but not a threat to her life. What if he was planning on raping her and feeding her to the walkers? She knew that she couldn't trust him and wanted him out of her home as soon as possible. She was stupid for thinking that she could actually have a friendly relationship with anyone, especially nowadays. Her thoughts drifted back to earlier that morning when she had watched him in the creek herself. She felt like an idiot now, spying on the man. She was a grown woman acting like a horny teenager. He was a man after all and all men were the same when it came down to sex. A low rumbling of thunder in the distance broke through her thoughts and she was brought back to the here and now. She started to dress and pack up her stuff as the dark clouds began to roll in. Hurriedly, she stored what she could on the porch before it started to rain. The rest of her day was ruined thanks to the storm. She couldn't go into the nearby town and raid the pharmacy for drugs and the stores for other supplies. In the downpour, her Jeep wouldn't make it down the side of the mountain without sliding. She was now forced to stay in the cabin and tolerate Daryl. She stuck a 9 mm Beretta in her waistband and covered her shirt to hide it when she thought that he wasn't looking. Once inside, she went to the back of the cabin and searched for the elusive brush or comb she knew must be hiding in one of the old dresser drawers. The bedroom had been her grandparents and she didn't have the courage to sleep in the bed knowing that her brother had fed them to the walkers and she had done nothing. Her brother Ted had said that they were a liability to everyone else's well-being and left them for walkerbait at their home in Bristol. Ted had lied to her and told her that they chose to stay just so she would go quietly and tell them how to get to the Georgia cabin. June's grandfather only trusted her with the exact location of the cabin. When it was clear to Ted and Karen that June was not going to tell them where the cabin was, they pushed her out of the truck 40 miles south of the Tennessee/Georgia state line to die.
After searching for the wayward comb for about 10 minutes she finally found it under a dress that had not been touched in years. She didn't want to disturb the past and searched no longer in the dresser drawers. It took another 10 minutes to get the plastic comb through the unruly snarls of red hair. Once it seemed like she had gotten it all untangled she paused and pictured herself in her mind having broken the only known mirror in the house. She decided that she looked ridiculous and immediately piled her hair in a lopsided bun atop her head.
She turned around towards the door when she was startled to see Daryl leaned up against the doorframe watching her through heavy lidded eyes.
"Holy shit! How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to know that you've got somethin' to hide out here."
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about Dixon."
She tried to get past him but he blocked her way and pushed her back into the room. His eyes never left hers as he reached around her waist and pulled up the back of her shirt.
"Then what are you hiding this for?" He asked as he dropped the 9 mm in her hands.
He then turned and left. June plopped down on the old bed and a cloud of dust erupted around her. How had he known about the gun? Wasn't she careful enough? Guess not.
The rest of the day, she sat on the porch swing and read her copy of The Man in the Iron Mask for what seemed like the 100th time while Daryl slept the day away. After about 3 hours of tedium the uncomfortable silence between the two of them became too much for her to handle so she went out to the barn out back and fiddled with whatever she could find to keep her hands busy. The rain was beating down on the tin roof of the barn like bullets from a machine gun. After 20 minutes of organizing the hardware in the toolbox, Daryl appeared at her side with his arms crossed and a look of disdain on his face.
"You're supposed to be resting. What do you want?" She asked not looking up from the workbench.
"Just wondering why you went out of your way to help me. That's all."
"Moment of weakness, I guess."
"Listen, I don't trust no one. Not even pretty girls out in the woods that save my life."
"Good, cus I don't trust you neither."
"Now that we got that outta the way, how did you come by a sweet set up like this?"
"None of your damn business. Who is the little girl to you?"
"She's the daughter of…someone in our group." He stumbled over the word "friend". Daryl had no friends. Just Merle.
"Group? What do ya mean?"
"Met up with a group of survivors outside Atlanta a while back. Been with 'em ever since."
"Humph…where did you come from before the outbreak?" Her hands shook with nervousness as she tried to piece the hand drill back together for the 5th time.
"Nowhere. Give me that piece of shit. You're doing it wrong."
He took the drill from her hands and placed everything in its proper place in the mechanism.
"There. Was that so hard?"
She ignored him and went back to organizing the nuts, bolts and screws on the workbench.
"What about you? You from around here?"
"No."She didn't want him to know too much about her. He could use it against her.
"Listen, I'm trying to be friendly here. If you want me to leave now, I will. I don't need a nursemaid to take care of me."
"Cant, you'll die out there and attract more walkers than I care to deal with." The silence between them thickened again and Daryl gave up and started for the door.
"Bristol." She said not looking up.
He stopped and turned around.
"Bristol? Bristol where?"
"Bristol, Tennessee. That's where I came from before the outbreak."
She turned her head to look at him and he nodded before heading back out into the rain. Her heart was at war with itself again. This time it wasn't fighting over whether or not to go back and look for her brother and sister in law. Now it was at war with itself over whether or not to trust the stranger that she had saved.
The rain wouldn't give up. It beat down on the cabin roof like an angry giant looking for something to eat. What had once been a peaceful creek was now an angry torrent. The yard was ankle deep in muck. There was no way they were getting out of here today and probably not tomorrow either. She had elected to sleep on the porch swing and leave the bed and warmth to Daryl. She would get by, it wouldn't be the first time she had slept outside and it certainly wouldn't be the last. At about 11:00 that night she fell asleep as the rain poured down around her on the porch. The two of them hadn't said much to each other since their time in the barn. She had reheated the rest of the stew on the fireplace and roasted the rabbit for herself. Daryl had found a piece of wood to whittle at while she sat outside and read until the lamplight hurt her eyes. When she woke up the next morning the quilt from her grandparent's bed covered her. She couldn't remember getting up to get it in the night. Because she hadn't. It must have been Daryl. She opened up the door and saw that the cot was empty and his crossbow was gone. He must have left while she was still asleep. She hoped that he was gone for good. This is always how things went for her. She was left alone again in the cabin. This is how things should be. People can hurt so she wouldn't let them get too close. As she was folding up the quilt, something caught her eye. She walked over to the mantle and picked up an object that had not been there before. She turned the crudely carved figurine in her hands and couldn't help but smile. It was a deer. He had carved her a deer. She delicately placed the figurine back on the mantelpiece where she had found it and started to get ready for the day.
The rain barrels that stood on the outskirts of the yard were full so there was no need to go down to the creek to wash today. It wouldn't have made a difference anyways. It was still raining. She filled the galvanized buckets with rain water and took them onto the porch when she heard branches breaking to her left. She scrambled for the shotgun and stood on the porch aiming it into the woods. Emerging through the trees came Daryl dragging a doe behind him by the legs. Leaning the shotgun against the front of the cabin, June hurried out into the rain to help him drag the dead animal into the barn. Once inside Daryl sat down on an old bucket and let out an exasperated sigh.
"I guess you didn't get my message did ya?" He asked still trying to calm his breathing.
"I got it. I just didn't know what it meant. I thought you had taken off for good."
"Nah just went to get something to eat. Help me get this bitch up here."
He pulled down a hook on a chain and waited for her to finish binding the animal's legs. After heaving the doe onto the hook Daryl took over and started to gut and clean the kill. June made herself scarce and went back into the cabin to stoke the fire. She couldn't help but glance up periodically at the wooden deer sitting on the mantle. She was stunned that he had actually come back. She had already mentally prepared herself for him to be gone so when she saw him dragging the doe through the woods she was in a state of shock. An hour later, he stood on the porch and kicked his muddy boots off outside the door. His hands and arms were covered in the deer's blood and a bloody streak stretched from his temple to his cheek where he wiped his face without thinking. He stood inside the door and thrust a chunk of meat at her. After taking the meat from him she picked up the deer figurine from the mantle.
"Thank you. It's beautiful."
"Nah, it weren't nothin'. I would've written ya a note but I couldn't find a pen and paper. And I didn't want to wake ya either."
"Oh." She said dejected and feeling stupid for reading so much into the carving. She placed it back on the mantle, this time not so carefully.
"You're filthy again. Can you not go a day without getting dirty?"
He looked like a kicked puppy when she met his eyes. She had wounded him without meaning to. He was trying to be humble about the carving but it didn't come out right either. To him, the carving was like flowers and the deer was like going to a fancy restaurant. He did it to be nice. He began to head for the door when she stopped him.
"Wait, you don't have to go down to the creek. You would probably get washed away anyways. Just hand me that bucket of water on the porch, will ya?" She didn't have the same anger in her voice this time when she asked him a question. Daryl obediently handed her the bucket of water from the porch and watched her pour it into a pot hanging above the fire. They stood in silence for a moment and watched the fire pop and crackle. She dipped a ladle into the pot and poured some of the water into a bowl and handed him a rag to wash his hands and arms. He sat down at the table next to the fire and started to clean himself. June went about her business and lit a lamp for him. When she set the lamp down on the table, he looked up at her with the smear of blood still on his face.
"You, uh…missed a spot on your face."
He quickly began to rub the rag harshly on the opposite side of his face from the blood.
"Did I get it?"
"No."
"Damn, aint ya got a mirror in this place?"
Her thoughts went back to when she destroyed her grandmother's mirror and she immediately felt guilty again.
"Sorry." Was the only reply she could muster.
She took the rag from him and asked, "May I?" He simply nodded. She apprehensively turned his face up and towards the light of the fire and began to rub gently with the rag on the bloodstain. He kept his eyes from hers for as long as he could until she tilted his head towards her again. Her hand stopped and they just stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity until the sizzle of the deer meat catapulted them back into reality.
"There, I think I got it." She turned to take the meat off the fire and let out the breath that she had been holding. He grunted and said, "Thank you." meekly but honestly. After plating up the meat, they sat down across from each other at the table and ate in silence yet again. Their eyes glanced towards each other periodically but never met. Neither of them was comfortable with another human being. After clearing the plates away June cautiously approached Daryl while he sat in the rocking chair on the porch.
"I…uh, need to check your stitches. Is that ok?"
"Yeah, you're the one that patched me up."
He followed her inside, took off his shirt and stood near the fire waiting for her. She knelt down and gently touched the thread that held him together. Her hands weren't soft but they weren't like sandpaper either. She poked and pushed at the skin around the stitches looking for any pus pockets that may have formed. His skin was like fire under her cold hands. She continued to check the stitches when his hand covered hers and held it. June looked up at him and a shiver ran down her spine and arms. Her fear of him was consuming her and all she could see was malevolence in his eyes. She wasn't sure what to think now. She was scared and intrigued by him all at the same time. June wasn't the type to back down from a fight or mince words when it came down to what she wanted. The carnal urge inside of her was bubbling up like lava through the rocks. She was about to reach up and unbuckle his belt when a loud crash outside startled the both of them and she pulled her hand back. They both whipped their heads towards the door and listened when another crash came.
"The deer." She said.
She scrambled to the gun cabinet and threw another 12 gauge at him and took hers off of the hook above the door. The two of them bolted for the barn to find 4 walkers devouring what was left of the deer carcass. They took aim and both fired shots until all 4 were down.
"Fuck! It took me 3 damn hours to track that deer and another 2 to drag its ass back here!" He yelled before kicking an empty gas can against the barn.
"Well, what the fuck are you standing around for? Get me a shovel and some gloves!" He screamed.
"Hey, let's get one thing straight, right here right now! This is not your home. You don't live here. I do. You will not under any circumstances ever dictate how things are done around here. You will respect me and my property! Ya got that Dixon?" She got just inches from his face and wouldn't back down. They stood toe to toe for a minute before he broke down and said what was on his mind for the last few days.
"Yeah, I got it. But I'm not the one hiding out here in the woods in a cabin that belonged someone else. Did ya kill the son of a bitch who owned this place or did ya just feed him to the walkers? Is that why ya saved my ass June? Cuz you were feelin' bad about killing whoever owned this place?" He mocked her and went too far. It took everything she had to hold herself back from punching him in the gut and kicking him in the balls. She simply snorted and turned on her heel and headed back to the cabin.
"Hey! What about the fuckin' shovel and gloves?" He yelled after her.
"Find it yourself dickhead!" She screamed back at him over her shoulder.
Once inside June slammed the door shut and headed straight for the bottle of Jack Daniels hidden in the back of the potato bin. She took a huge gulp and let the whiskey fuel her hatred. He was right in a way. She was stupid enough to believe Ted when he told her that their grandparents chose to stay. She had sentenced them to their death and then took the only thing that they had. She never went back to the house to tell them goodbye. She never asked them what they wanted. She just went along with what Ted and Karen said until she realized 40 miles south of the state line that they were lying to her all along. But it was time to face her guilt. She slowly tip toed down the hall and opened the door to her grandparents bedroom. The musty smells of mothballs and her grandmother's perfume mingled and danced around her nostrils. June had never spent time in this room unless she had to. She never lay down on the bed to relax or go through her grandparents things just for fun. The room was haunted to her. She took another swig of whiskey and cautiously took another step inside the room before closing the door behind her. Another sip, another step, another sip, another step. This went on and on until she sat down in the far corner of the room and finished off the last of the bottle. June leaned her head back and yowled an ear piercing scream that even the thunder couldn't consume. Then, after months of suppression, she finally cried.
In the barn, Daryl was dragging the last of the walkers into the pit he had dug out when he heard a scream coming from the cabin. He bolted for the house but stopped short of the doorway. He stopped and listened for a moment before heading towards the back bedroom. Putting his ear to the door, he listened to June sob inside. He had no idea how to deal with this or even if he wanted to deal with this. He chose to let her be and wallow in her own misery. On his way back outside he noticed the open potato bin and took a look inside. Another bottle of Jack Daniels was nestled in between the potatoes so he helped himself to a swig. And then another, and another when his eyes fell on the deer figurine on the mantle. In a fit of whiskey fueled rage he picked up the figurine and threw it into the fire. He watched for a moment as the flames consumed the tiny piece of wood until it was nothing more than ash. Tucking the bottle of whiskey in his back pocket he went back out to the barn to finish what he had started.
Hours that seemed like days passed until June let sleep take hold of her. She couldn't cry anymore. When she awoke, her throat was raw and her back hurt from lying on the wooden floor. The rain continued to beat on the roof but the rest of the cabin was silent. She walked out into the main room and immediately noticed that the deer was gone. She gave a silent chuckle to the darkness and stepped out onto the porch. She looked towards the barn and noticed the light from an oil lamp peeking out from between the slats of wood. Her sob session in the bedroom gave her enough courage to march up to Daryl Dixon and tell him what was what. He needed to leave as soon as possible.
She boldly kicked the barn door open and looked at him like a lioness hunting a gazelle. Her hands shook as she walked towards him and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up the closer she got to the man sitting on the bucket. He didn't even look at her when she stood next to him.
"Ya done cryin' like a little baby?" He asked.
"Get your stuff together. Rain or shine tomorrow, I'm takin' you down the mountain and droppin' your ass off at the main road."
And with that she turned and went back to the cabin to lie in her grandparent's bed and get a good night's sleep. But sleep did not come. When the clock in the main room struck 1:00 in the morning she gave in and climbed out of bed. It wasn't until she noticed that Daryl was not on the cot that she also noticed the rain had finally stopped. She stepped outside onto the porch and looked up at the sky. No clouds covered the billions of stars blanketing the heavens above.