A.N:

(I'm opposed to writing a strong accent for Daryl into it, I'm sure you can imagine it well enough without a constant "ah"'s and "ahlways"'s and "jes stahp"'s, which tend to just distract me when I read 'em)

Lori has ALWAYS pissed me off, so forgive me for writing her a little differently, I couldn't have her here if she was as she is in the show.

This is my first fic and I'd LOVE reviews, criticism (constructive or otherwise), or whatever else you want to throw at me!

It's probably awful, so sorry in advance if you spend a deal of time on this!

Daryl let out a heavy sigh.

He'd been tracking a deer now for almost half the day. Somehow every time he thought he was close enough to reach out and grab it, it was just a little further away.

His breath came out slightly foggy, a reminder that the first winter frosts were closing in.

They had moved from place to place erratically over the fall, looking for somewhere, for anywhere they could rest, just for the winter. But so far they'd been driven out by Walkers every damn time. There was simply no place secure enough. They needed walls, fences. Structure.

Right now they had scavenged three delivery trucks which served as extremely sparse makeshift motel rooms. They were mobile, which helped, but they were by no means a solution.

They were cold and cramped.

Those who remained were tired and cornered, and more than a little grief-stricken, which meant everyone was more likely to complain than do anything useful.

If you asked Daryl, he'd say it was high time they pull their heads out of their asses.

Although he didn't like to complain, he was just as damn cold and tired as the rest and yet he still had to be the one to find the food, keep watch almost every night, look for possible places to stop, and kill every damn Walker that got within spitting distance.

Hell, Lori was getting ready to pop and he sure as hell did not want her to be doing that in the open, let alone near him.

Up ahead, there was the distinct sound of a snapping twig.

Daryl stopped and cocked his head to the side, looking and listening.

There. Ahead. The tan, speckled pelt of a young deer.

Daryl stopped, just breathing quietly, waiting.

It was coming his way, and the last thing he wanted to do was spook it.

Slowly, he reached for the crossbow slung on his back.

"Mom?"

"Hm?" Lori blinked drowsily, one hand resting lightly on her swollen belly, the other stroking the ever-lengthening hair of her only son.

"Do you still think about Shane?"

"Of course. Your daddy does too. He misses him as much as we do." She wasn't surprised at the question, just at the time it had taken Carl to ask it.

"I don't miss him. He ruined things. We were okay. Why'd he have to get so…" he trailed off, his voice getting thick.

"It's okay to miss him, baby. You know, this life we're living now is hard, and it's cruel. And we're all struggling. I had a part to play in how Shane acted. I had a big part in it. I'm sorry for him. I was really angry at him, for a while, too. But I've forgiven him. I know you will too, someday. It's…it's hard to understand what's going in in anyone's' heads anymore, huh?"

"Yeah. I just…I wish things went different."

"Me too."

There was a tap on the back hatch of the truck, and a moment later it was pulled up about halfway, and Rick appeared, haloed by the fading daylight.

"How's my family?" he asked softly, a little ghost of a smile playing about his lips that Lori hadn't seen in a good deal of time.

"Sleepy. Is there any dinner on the way? I'm really starting to feel like I could eat for five instead of two," Lori said with laughter in her tone. She didn't expect much. Everyone'd been giving up a little of their portion for her, and after a few days of protest she accepted their generosity without argument. She'd made sure Carl was full before eating herself, though. If it was just her, and no little one on the way to think about, she wouldn't have hesitated to give him all that she had. When there was no food at all, however, there was nothing anyone could do for the pregnant woman, or their (second) youngest comrade.

Rick's face fell a little, his eyes pained. "Well, Daryl went out early and we were hoping for a little meat, but he's not back yet. Carol cooked us up a bit of stew with some of yesterday's rabbit and some canned stuff. Smells good, but there's…well, there's less to eat than I'd have liked."

They'd lost so many people and yet there were still as many mouths to feed as ever; Lori, Carl, Glenn, Carol, T-Dog, Maggie, Beth, Hershel, himself, and Daryl (although Daryl hadn't eaten with them in some time now).

Actually Daryl didn't stay at the camp much these days at all. It seemed like he was distancing himself from them. Rick couldn't complain; he still pulled his weight around camp; bringing home kills from the forests, taking watch frequently, helping with directions when Rick asked. He was invaluable, but the only time he was around for any length of time was when everyone else was asleep and he was on watch.

They hadn't encountered a Walker since leaving the cities and main roads behind. And there was certainly more to eat when Daryl had access to a forest, as he did now; they were in a clearing just off a small, little used road (even before the dead had come back), bordered on both sides by thick woods. Daryl had scouted ahead and found the place.

He did a lot more than they gave him credit for, and Rick supposed it had a lot to do with the fact that the hunter always had an acerbic reply for any question or comment directed at him.

When they had come across the six or seven delivery trucks Daryl had set up the three that weren't full of guts and gore as sleeping quarters for the others, and cleaned out one more for his own use. But on that day Carol had asked him if he wanted to get cleaned up over at the camp, as he looked like he was "going native", and he'd told her to fuck off back to camp and try and be someone else's mom for a change. She had gone back to camp inconsolable, and apparently he'd stormed off into the woods, only coming out to relieve Rick of watch in the early hours.

Rick was sure he hadn't meant to say what he had, but he'd still chewed Daryl's ear off.

He decided that tonight he'd talk to Daryl, thank him, say how much they appreciated what he was doing. Then he would hope for the best that he'd get a "you're welcome" instead of a "go fuck yourself".

It was almost eleven and Daryl wasn't back. Rick's head was starting to bob, so he went to T-Dog, Glenn and Hershel's truck, intending on having the Korean boy take over.

After a moment's pause, he decided against knocking, and simply pulled the cargo door open as quietly as he could, which wasn't quietly at all.

"The fuck is going on!?" came T-Dog's panicked voice, and Rick hushed him, as Hershel was still snoring.

"Glenn?" Rick called.

"Glenn's not in here!" T-Dog immediately bit his lip. He'd said he'd cover for Glenn, too.

"Where is he?"

T-Dog groaned inwardly. "With Maggie."

"Where?"

"I think it's best to wait for 'em. What's up?" He was awake now, and starting to feel nervous.

"Look, can you take watch for a little bit? Daryl's usually back by now to take over, and I'm not sure I'll keep awake. I'll find Glenn. He was going to take over if Daryl didn't. I can't believe he'd go off like that!"

"Sure, man. Sure." T-Dog shook himself and extracted himself from the truck. He found a relatively comfortable outdoor chair and planted himself in it.

"Thank you."
"No problem."

Maybe it was the fatigue speaking, but at that moment Rick felt a rush of warmth toward the man. "You're a good guy."

"Get some sleep, Rick. Glenn'll be back before too long, and you look like you need it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

A couple of hours passed. T-Dog felt quite peaceful out here tonight. There were no bugs biting at him, no Walkers moaning in the distance. The moon was round and clear, and the stars were laid across the sky like tiny pinpricks in the black velvet of the night.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

It would have been nicer if the skin on the back of his neck hadn't crawled every time an owl hooted or a twig snapped.

Suddenly he jerked his head up at the sound of a gunshot, far away, but not far off not to hear it.

There was stirring and murmuring in the camp. People started coming out, talking. Everyone was on edge. There was another bang in the distance, and most of them jumped.

Daryl never shot a gun if he could help it, as it only attracted Walkers.

Intermittent shots rang out for some time, and there was panicked, hushed talk of leaving. Walkers'd likely hear the commotion and seek them out.

Rick shook his head. Maggie, Glenn and Daryl were still out there somewhere.

But what if Walkers came? What if other people came?

Rick squared his shoulders. "We've got three choices."