Haha chapter one and done! I am much more happy with how this one found itself coming out and I hope you all do as well!
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I am much happier with this story now as I hope you all are as well :)

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Thanks lots, keep on reading!


UPDATED

Green, ever-lasting green stretched out in front of him. Not just one green, but millions- billions, shades and hues of countless greens that surrounded the well-muscled redneck. The greens that etched the leaves, the greens that shaded the grasses and mosses, the greens that grew through the twisting, turning vines that scaled up the trees and numerous abandoned barns and farmhouses that covered the open country plains of rural Georgia- even the greens that rimmed the hollow, lifeless eyes of walkers. All of those greens intrigued him, somewhat enveloped him in their silent beauty as they painted this hellish world freely and exquisitely with such grace that he almost found himself a "pansy-ass yuppie" as Merle would have called him for thinking such "girlish" things. Especially now, in a world like this. Where the greens of the trees and leaves and grasses were no longer admired simply because there was no one around to admire them anymore. Where they went unloved, unnoticed and slowly left to rot while everything around them went to shit. They were left alone to keep what little beauty they could on this dying earth while most to every other color was drained from this world.

Like pink. That was a color he hadn't seen in awhile- at least not genuinely. Not that he paid much attention to the color when it was present, 'cause if he did he was more than positive he would've heard about it from Merle for the next lifetime and a half if he even so much as remarked that he thought the color pink was "purty". But now that the color was so absent in this new world he found himself missing it. Missing it when it illuminated the color of other's cheeks, bringing out the life, love and humanity in them. Whether it be blush or from a cold chill he missed the color with a stinging pain that he never had really acknowledged before. He missed how sweet and innocent the color had always been, how people had always used it for baby girls and for the icing on birthday cakes. Speaking of cake...he really didn't want to get into how much he missed that stuff. Would only bring back more bad memories than the ones that made his stomach grumble from the lack of the sweet, sugary heroin that was regrettably gone forever.

"Yer a damn fag, Dixon." He whispered as he ducked under a low-hanging branch, grinning at his own insult that was for some reason directed at the gruff hunter himself. 'Cause damn, didn't he get enough of that shit back at camp. From Merle, from Shane, from about goddamned everybody in that hellhole that he had been calling home for the past month or so since this shitty outbreak.

He guessed that was why he enjoyed being out here alone in the woods so much- 'cause ain't nobody damn near stupid enough to follow him out this far, even if it is to feed their own sorry asses. Lord knows them damn breadwinners and super models ain't caring none as long as they're takin' care of at the end of the day anyways.

Feeling himself growing annoyed and quite honestly a bit pissed at how the others acted back at that camp, he decided to pull himself out of his thoughts and get them back to focused on his hunting. Damn, even he knew that it was the only thing that really kept his mind off of all the mess that was goin' on around him. It'd always damn been that way. Somethin'd happen, something between him an' Merle, between him an' his drunkard of a father- hell, sometimes even between him n' hisself if the day was just that shitty. He'd take off- tell no one, not a soul- where he was goin' with just his crossbow in hand and an antique flask stuffed into his pocket filled to the brim to keep him company for the upcoming midday misery that always ran into midnight in what felt like only a matter of seconds. But he liked it that way. Just him, his bow and his alcohol. The way it shoulda damn always been 'stead of him always runnin' back home so that he could get his jaw clocked by his brother, father or some strange hick in the local bar that he didn't even know the name of. Either way the woods always found themselves a better home to him than any house he'd ever stepped foot into- even though was his own most'a the time or some brassy broad's he was bangin' for a one night stand just to take a load off. Speakin'a which, he thought he heard some noise that could match, possibly even override, the pleasured sound of some strange girl underneath him: the sound of a unknowing doe makin' her way through the forest, no idea what was'a 'bouta hit 'er.

Putting himself on high alert, he angled his bow all along the "gay ass green" that surrounded him with narrowed his eyes, licking his thin lips with excitement. In all honesty he was anticipating a good kill today. None'a that scrawny squirrel n' rabbit shit anymore but a full-grown fat ass deer that he was sure would taste just as good as any pink-frosting cake that he'd had long ago fer sure- 'specially since he knew he'd heard the damn thing not far. Placing each of his muddy boots in front of the other at a time slowly- carefully- sure to not make any noise to startle a potential meal, he crept through the noiseless woods in a 360 field of vision to make sure he didn't miss anything from right, from left, from front or from behind. He sure as hell wasn't gonna lose a dinner of venison 'cause he overlooked a doe takin' a piss behind a tree.

Smirking to himself, he saw that he'd finally spotted something he was sure he'd heard only a few seconds ago. Something nice and brown with white spots -something that could finally brighten up his day- grazing what could've only been a handful of yards away from him in a bright clearing under a single tree. He licked his lips excitedly, making sure to point and aim his bow perfectly at his intended target- more so his intended supper- before sending the perfectly set arrow whirring through the air and straight into the doe's neck where he was sure it'd sever an important artery or two and leave his prey bleeding out on the spot within a minute an' a half.

"Bullseye." He muttered triumphantly to himself before grinning that trademark smirk he was so famous for back home and taking off through the few short yards that stood between him and his only hope of sanity for the next few days. "Come to Daryl ya' sun'uva bitch." He almost laughed as he cleared the final tall patch of grass that was sheltering his fresh kill. However, what he found laying beside his prized possession was what made his entire train of thought find itself screeching to an abrupt halt in the matter of a millisecond, snatching his eyes from his perfect catch and straight to the body of something else:

A girl.


She was crouched beside his catch silently, her large, doe-like brown eyes searching over the fresh kill with contemplation as if she didn't know what to think of the wild animal fallen beside her. The way her tiny body- and damn, was she petite- was placed beside it, the way she marveled over its slain beauty...the same way he found himself marveling over her's.

She was astounding. Absolutely fuckin' perfect compared to any other broad he'd seen walkin' on this god damned earth. From her long, willowy pale blonde hair that curled at the ends, to her snowy-white skin that glistened with sweat in the sun of the clearing, he knew she was sheer beauty. He couldn't help but admire her face- such a delicate and soft heart shape, lined with a small apple-dimpled chin which was framed perfectly by her angelic locks. 'Couldn't help but admire the way her large- astoundingly wide- almond-shaped eyes, kinda like a damn cartoon's, so chocolate brown and so sweet with long, dark eyelashes fluttered up to him from the corpse of his deer and met his blue ones with even more contemplation than before. The way her thick, dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she caught sight of him. The way her round, plump pink lips parted to draw in a sharp breath when their gazes met. The way her torn and tattered T-shirt, far too large for her, hung from her minuscule frame and revealed the perfect amount of her cleavage. The way she was just so damn breathtaking.

However, as he kept boring his stare into her he found himself becoming more focused on the less beautiful things about her. Such as countless wounds that patched her skin, the raw rings that curled around her wrists- the left one sloppily patched with a dirty strip of bandage- and the identical ones that lingered all the more around her ankles- obviously marks from her being restrained against her free will. The numerous cuts and scrapes that covered her entire body from head to toe. Her busted lip, her black eye, the glazed, hollow look those beautiful brown eyes beheld, the split skin above her right eyebrow...however his eyes were drawn to one particularly bone-chilling wound that marked the girl's ghostly-white skin: the bruises that engulfed her entire throat in the shape of a human's hands.

Besides his own infatuation he found himself coming to realization that he had no idea what in the name of god to do- no idea what in the name of god had even happened to hurt this little girl? Who tied her up? Who beat her senseless? Bruised her, cut her, touched her? Left her for dead out here in the open? But he was determined to find out.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya' none." He told her softly as she had already began to stance herself; shifting from a kneeling position into one of that she practically had herself ready to pounce on 'im if he inched any closer. He stuck out his hand to her, not in that of a friendly gesture where he wanted physical contact but in that of showing her he would keep his distance if she simply kept her cool.

However, the girl didn't seem unwavered. With those big beautiful chocolate brown eyes beginning to narrow at him and her thick, luscious eyebrows starting to furrow even more...he could tell she was having quite heated debate with herself. He could tell easily she was 'bout to fight or flee by now especially. Simply from the way her eyes began to dart wildly from side to side and her muscles tightened into thick, taut layers under her skin as if she was some sort of caged animal. That's when it hit 'im.

That's it. That's what this lil girl looked like. An animal; beautiful, caged, terrified- desired. Everything his prey always was and will be.

Nonetheless, as the youngest Dixon found himself deeply infatuated with the blonde in front of him being so much like an animal is when she took off into the woods at the speed of one- no surprise there.

Stunned at first, he quickly snapped out of it and sprung up to dash after, however stopping mid-sprint to glance uneasily back at his fresh kill. Hesitating at the thought of leaving such a plump doe behind, he somehow found hisself more drawn to the tiny blonde sprinting a couple yards ahead of him now like a fuckin' track star.

"Ya' lucky." He muttered as he tore through the thick overgrowth after her, "I chose ya' over my deer."


He'd been chasin' her now for what felt like hours and with the hot, Georgia sun finding its way through the thick tops of the trees and onto his already-crisp neck he wasn't all too sure if he wanted to keep up the manhunt after this mysterious girl anymore. Lord knows least his body didn' want to. The way his sides were aching by now, the way his entire throat and lungs all burned as if Satan hisself took a damn piss in 'is mouth- and god damn the way 'is back ached like he'd been thrown out a movin' vehicle from haulin' 'round a fuckin' 20 lb. crossbow an' just 'bout two dozen squirrels 'round his shoulder. He didn' even wanna get started on how his feet felt like he'd be walkin' 'cross hot coals since Sunday.

He let out a growl of annoyance towards 'imself as he listened to his own silent complaints, practically havin' the damn need to give him an identical black eye to blonde he was trackin'. He'd lost sight of 'er long ago, probably about a mile an' a half or so back. He'd kept followin' her scrambled tracks, though. Decided that, hell, if he came after her this far n' left a deer behind in the dust for a bunch'a biters he might as well see what all of her fuss was about. Well, besides the fact that they were livin' in a world of undead bastards who try to eat you if you just so happen to cross paths with 'em.

However, he was pretty sure that walker's weren't what she was so terrified of. From the way she'd eyed him with those beautiful brown peepers and practically dropped into a hunter's crouch when he made any sudden movements he was positive that little girl was more scared of people than any undead flesh-eater roaming this earth. 'Specially with all them cuts and bruises, not to mention those raw rings around her ankles and wrists. He found himself not able to blame her for bolting when she had the chance as he wasn't the friendliest lookin' fucker to have ever roamed these woods and her previous encounters with livin' didn't seem to have gone too well...

Slowing his pace as he followed her tracks along the desolate trail, he halted when the sudden panicked realization begin to wash over him in rough waves. He let out a deep, shaky exasperated sigh and came to a complete stop before practically throwing himself into the nearest oak as the frustration overwhelmed him. He felt fiery anger surging through him as he cursed 'imself for not figuring it out earlier. Something so obvious, something so utterly clear that he- if anyone- should have realized the second she turned on 'im like a fuckin' panther.

This girl was bein' hunted.

He wasn't all too sure by who or for whatever reason why, but he was positive that she was being hounded like some kind of fuckin' animal by people who were probably more messed up than he'd like to imagine. The countless scenarios of who, what, where and why could only flood his mind so fast until he started to feel sick. He could only handle so many disturbin' thoughts at once even if he was a Dixon. Hell, thas' what we was. A Dixon, not a fuckin' Manson.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself back onto her tracks instead to keep his mind off of the unsettling conclusions that came to his mind, not one of them managing to end well for the little blonde that he was trying so desperately now to trace. He knew he'd have to find her before whatever sick pricks did again this time. Else they might give'r more than a black eye and busted lip.

By now the sun had begun to set, casting pastel shades of oranges, pinks- fuckin' irony- and yellows into the sky above him, drowning out the pale blue that had been reigning it all day long. Even though he could barely see the sky through the thick overgrowth of the treetops above his head, he could still make out the pale golden glow that would change from burning white rays that shot all the way down to the forest floor dependin' on the hour. That is how the redneck really told when the sun began to set n' rise. That and the sounds along with the temperature. While Georgia summer's are damn hot all day n' night 'round, dusk was still considerably cooler than the blistering humidity during the afternoon's 'specially. He could recall almost snagging a nasty case of heatstroke more than a hundred times at the age of only five. However he didn't mind one bit, in fact he loved it. He was born wild- raised it. The heat, the cold, the bugs, the animals- none that bothered 'im. Truth be told he liked it all. He loved the feeling of being feral- untamed. It made him feel free an' happy unlike anythin' else. Just bein' able to roam wherever he wants anymore without a care in the world was simply the utmost satisfying thing he had encountered in all his days. He loved the smell of the night air- the feel of its refreshing coolness pooling into his lungs along with the countless unrecognizable scents of other wild beings such as indigenous plants and animals. But he loved those even more so. All of it was just so damn peaceful. No Merle or Shane to bug 'im. No annoyin' ass cunt's followin' 'im 'round camp askin' 'im favors he didn' wanna do. No kids screamin' and carryin' on or cryin' 'cause biter's were comin' near 'em. While he was out here it was just 'im and the stars. Well, for maybe just tonight it would be him, the stars and lil blondie that must've turned in for the night. He noticed her tracks began to spiral, as if in an attempt to confuse the expert tracker that had been followin' 'er for nearly four god damn miles by now. They had begun to twist and turn amongst themselves, overriding the other and dodgin' 'round trees an' bushes. He was sure she couldn't be far by now and if anything were to happen he'd hear it even in 'is sleep. Not that he was really a light sleeper or anythin', but it was more so that the screams of a distressed lil beauty could wake any man up from the deepest slumber easily. That anyone knew obviously.

However, as the sky began to grow darker and darker, leaving little to no glow peering through the overlapping branches high above Daryl's head he knew he'd better turn in for the night as well. Wasn't damn safe for anyone out in the woods with the dead lurkin' 'bout all the time now.

Muttering under his breath at the thought of the biters comin' at 'im while he slept, he quickly slung his bow over his shoulder and secured the rope of squirrel's around his belt before hauling his muscled ass up a wide oak to take refuge in for a few hours.

He settled at a sturdy, high-hanging branch that overlooked the entire forest floor to be his bedroom for the night. It wasn't one of those fancy ass yuppie Hampton Inn's or whatever the fuck they were called, but hell, he'd take one of these great oak's over a soft memory foam mattress where you could make out the indent of two republican's who had really quiet sex with their shirt's still on for the one singular time within their entire marriage on it. 'Cause lord knows only those types'a people could afford them damn hotels.

Chuckling softly to 'imself at his thoughts, he shook his head before whispering aloud, practically bursting with laugher, "Ain't no damn republicans alive anymore."