[Author's Note: I'll probably only be updating once a week after this, but since the last chapter was so short, I figured I'd make up for it by posting this early. Also! I would like to thank the first 5 people who have favourited/followed this story already. So this chapter is dedicated to you! It warms my heart =)]

The next day we continue walking through the woods. We've fallen into a comfortable rhythm of walking and tracking, making good progress as Daryl continues to teach me how to hunt and fend for myself. In terms of walkers, it's a slow day; no hoardes or groups, just single stragglers easily taken out with a knife. We don't allow ourselves to get too complacent though: all it takes is for one of us to let our guard down at the wrong moment and we're dead.

Speaking of not letting their guard down, Daryl is as surly as ever. Maybe even more surly. I thought I had been making progress after the moonshine incident and our brief stay at the funeral home. For awhile, I really thought I was getting somewhere with him. He didn't even mind my singing! I smile to myself, as I think back on our stay at the funeral home...

The way Daryl smiled and laughed. The way he carried me around and pulled out my chair: like a true gentleman! Mind you, it was because I was injured, so really it was more out of practicality than anything else. But still. I could feel the hope coming back us. I may talk a big game about hope and faith and never giving up, but it's just as hard on me as it is on the others. Maybe even more. As Daryl once pointed out, I had more to lose than he did before all this. Sometimes I wonder how God could let something like this happen. Not just the walkers, but everything that's happened to the people who try to survive. Good people, like my dad. But then I look at Daryl, and see him smiling, see him proud of what he's done and become, see him thriving in the world, and I think that God is really looking out for us, that maybe this is indeed all part of His divine plan. And that gives me hope.

Wanting to give Daryl some space, I start to veer left. There's some thick bushes here, and I'm hoping maybe some of them have some berries. I would kill for some berries! Anything sweet. I'm not as picky as I once was, I can't afford to be, but I can only eat so many squirrels and snakes before I go crazy.

As I'm cutting my way through the brush, I start humming. Not intentionally, I swear, it's just a habit, left over from before. I don't do it nearly as often as I used to, but sometimes, when everything seems calm, I can almost forget the horror we live in, and a song just needs to come out.

Suddenly, my foot catches on a root, and I go stumbling forward through the bushes. I catch myself, and as I'm cursing myself for my carelessness and cutting myself loose from the thicket, I realize it's not as quiet as I had thought. Without my humming, I can hear the snarls and growls coming from just beyond the bush. Looking up, I find myself almost face-to-face with a pile of walkers. Startled, I give a shout, before immediately clamping my hands over my mouth. It's too late: I've gained their attention.

With resolve, I draw up my knife and immediately plunge it into the forehead of the walker nearest me. Ripping my knife out, I lash out at the walkers in front of me. It's then I notice they're stuck in some sort of trap: all tangled up together in a pile of limbs and snarling heads. They reach forward for me, but don't have much range. If I can just get my ankle loose from this root... then I can take care of the remaining walkers, no problem.

I feel their hands reaching out for me as I struggle with my knife, the root stubborn and thick, refusing to yield my foot. I will not be bested by Mother Nature! I alternate between getting free and keeping the walkers at bay. After what feels like for ever, but what was probably only a few seconds, my knife saws through the root and I'm free. Not a moment too soon: I can feel the hot breath of the walkers beating down on me. With a triumphant cry, I pull myself up and push back at the walkers. I stab one... two... and am about to take care of a third when I feel something rush past me. Right where I was about to stab the walker lies the shaft of an arrow.

"Goddamn it! Get outta the way!" Daryl screams at me, shoving his way past me. Before I can react, he's stabbing and slashing his way through the pile. He plucks the arrow from walker's head and then plunges his knife into another, simultaneously beating off a third using his crossbow. The whole thing is over before it even began.

"What the hell were you thinkin'?" yells Daryl, as he turns back towards me.

"I had it under control!" I say, picking myself back up, testing my ankle gingerly. It's the second time this ankle has gotten me into trouble. If I'm not careful, it's going to be the death of me. Or Daryl.

"Like hell you did!" Daryl spits. "Runnin' off alone like that! I could kill you right now myself and save the both of us the trouble!"

"Running off? I wasn't running off! I was hunting and tracking and doing exactly what you were doing!" I could not believe I was having this argument with Daryl. "I am not a child! I'm not some little girl! You don't have to take care of me! I can take care of myself!" As I say that, I realize how petulant I sound, much like the child I claimed to not be.

"Oh no, you're some grown-ass woman, now aren'tcha? Drinkin' moonshine, playin' games... what's next? Spin-the-Bottle? Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

I start to blush, as I realize the nature of those games and the fact that the only person around to play them with was...

"Or how about some Five Finger Fillet? Hmm? Here!" Daryl flips open a switchblade from his belt. "Gimme your hand! Show me how grown up you are!"

"Daryl!" I hiss. "Calm down! You're attracting walkers!"

"Yeah! You're just an expert on walkers now huh?" Daryl continues shouting.

SLAP!

The silence that rings echoes through the woods. I'm shocked at what I've done, but I don't back down, staring Daryl dead in the eyes. Daryl massages his cheek, switchblade still open in his other hand, staring right back. Something about that slap seems to have snapped him out of his rant. "Yeah, you slap like bitch." he mutters, eying me up and down.

"Look, I'm sorry for scaring you, and I'm grateful for the assistance, but Daryl..." I sigh. "You can't keep treating me like I'm some fragile flower. You know I'm not. You've been teaching me how to hunt, how to track. I'm getting stronger, better. Treating me like I'm some invalid is only going to get the both of us killed." With that, I start to walk away from the scene. As I put pressure on my ankle, I wince.

"You ain't been bit?" Daryl rushes to my side.

"No, it's the same ankle as before. It's just been re-aggravated."

"Yeah, I know what it's like to be re-aggravated by you."

"Haha"

"Looks to me like you are some invalid. Lucky for you, while you were off gettin' yourself nearly eaten, I found us a place to crash tonight."

"Wait, a place? As in, indoors? No camping?"

Daryl smiles. Sometimes I wonder if I should be alarmed by his mood swings. More often than not though, I'm just glad for something other than "surly" and "brooding". "Yeah, a real home-sweet-home." he says. "Come, it's just on the other side of this grove."

Without looking to see if I'm following, Daryl starts walking, our fight all but forgotten. But I know better. It's just Daryl's way of dealing with things: suppressing the feelings, moving on, focusing on nothing but survival and the here and now.

I start to hobble forward, rushing to catch up to Daryl. My ankle doesn't hurt too badly at the moment, but I worry about the long-term effects. With a sigh, Daryl walks back to me and crouches down in front of me.

"Damn you're gettin' spoiled. Better not be 'specting the royal treatment every day now, princess." he says. "I ain't hauling your ass around full-time, you hear me?"

I roll my eyes. "You don't have to you know. I can still stumble around with the best of them."

"Yeah, but by the time you get to the place, it'll be dark, and with all that shamblin', I might think you a walker and shoot you. And wouldn't that be a shame?"

I climb onto Daryl's back, piggy-back style. "Yeah, I mean, who would sing you to sleep every night and annoy you?" I tease him.

Daryl smiles slightly. "Careful, I might just leave you here after all."

But he carries me anyway.