She was here. She was alive when she was here. Thought Daryl, scanning the ground for more tracks, from the look of the tracks, Daryl established that her right leg had been injured and she was bleeding as the track from her right foot dragged through the dirt. He looked around frantically, hoping for another sign, anything at all. "Carol!" screamed Daryl, not caring if anyone or anything heard him. The tracks were a few days old and beginning to fade but he took off in the direction the tracks were headed and moved quickly, adrenaline pumping through him, alleviating the pain from his shoulder.
Daryl, out of breath and his gunshot wound bleeding again, collapsed to the floor trying to catch his breath. He had been running, for ages. It must've been equivalent of about half a marathon, possibly more. He was burnt out, his heart was almost exploding out of his chest and his lungs felt as if they were about to burst. He guzzled down some water thirstily and looked up at the sky which was starting to grey over. The droplets of blood that he had been following were becoming less so the bleeding must've slowed, thankfully, he could still make out the hoof and foot prints. Composing himself, Daryl got to his feet and started off again, wanting to try and catch up as much as possible before nightfall.
There were about 6 hours left of daylight left but the sky was turning darker and darker, the clouds rolling and rumbling above him. Daryl paused, listening to the thunder as is grew louder. "For fuck sake," muttered Daryl as a drop of rain fell on his forearm, followed by a few more before the rain was hammering down hard. "No, no.." Daryl trailed off, watching the tracks wash away from the ground in front of him. "You son of a bitch," he mumbled, walking in a straight line, trying to not lose the tracks. His shoulder was bleeding badly, he felt the stickiness of blood on his chest and the rain dampened him, sending shivers through his body.
He came across an abandoned house and entered, escaping the rain. The house was dark and quiet, he scoped the house checking for walkers before locking the front door and settling on the couch in the living room. He pulled back his vest and shirt to look at his shoulder, "shit," cursed Daryl, all of the stitches had come out and blood was slowly flowing out. Daryl lay on the couch and fell asleep, cold and exhausted. He had blisters on his feet from running all day and his muscles ached even when he lay still.
Daryl woke, the sun was high in the sky, with a few clouds dotted here and there. Judging from the position of the sun, it was about one in the afternoon, Daryl had slept for a long time, too long he thought. He got up and went outside to set some traps in the hope of catching a rabbit or something as his stomach growled at him, his hands shaking from lack of food and loss of blood.
The day was slow. He made the decision to stay another night and start up again tomorrow, his body was too limp and exhausted to travel. He managed to catch himself two rabbits and began cooking one in the fireplace of the living room he was staying in. The fire warmed the room and lit the walls up with an orange colour. He stared into the flames an thought back to their first night at the prison. Carol had brought him some dinner and he'd rubbed her back to ease her aching shoulders and she'd teased him a little. He missed that, the joking, the smiles, the laughter, it was simpler back then, before everything went to shit.
The next morning, Daryl cooked himself the other rabbit and ate it greedily before gathering his belongings and setting off again. He didn't know which way Carol was or where he was going to start looking but he turned in the direction he thought they were heading and started walking. His shoulder was numb from the pain and it was still bleeding, slower but still bleeding. The sky was grey but Daryl was in good spirits, he was well rested and fed and had hope that he'd find her.
Daryl trekked through the woods, listening to the satisfying noise of twigs breaking under his steps. A walker came out from a tree in front of him and using the spear, he skewered it straight through the skull. Another one appeared behind him, snarling at him. "Oh piss off!" said Daryl, angered at the walker's existence. One day without walkers, just one day, thought Daryl, putting down the second one. He winced at the pain in his shoulder and sucked in some air strongly. Daryl searched the pockets of the dead walkers and found a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, "finally, something good to come out of a shitty day, thanks mate," gesturing his comment to the walker lying on the floor. He placed the cigarette between his chapped lips and lit it, inhaling the fumes as he did so. Daryl turned, walking further and further out and away from Alexandria and the Hilltop.
X
How long had it been? Daryl thought, sitting with his back up against a tree. His shoulder had become completely numb and unusable. His whole shoulder and the top of his arm had turned a gross purple colour, the blood surrounding the wound was dark red in colour and the skin around it was swollen. Daryl looked up at the sky from under his fringe and wished that Negan had taken him instead of Glenn. Glenn's death still haunted Daryl, he still had nightmares and awful flashbacks to that night. No matter how hard he tried to shake away the thoughts, they always came flooding back like tidal waves of sadness and sorrow. Daryl clutched the spear in his left hand and watched at the colour drained out of his knuckles. Daryl was losing hope, his body was weak, most likely dying, he had no trail to follow and he was lost, he didn't know where the hell he was. He was always such a good hunter but he'd lost his bearings. He'd been out searching for Carol for about 2 and a half weeks. He was tired, hungry and sad, he was helpless.
Daryl watched as a walker, who's guts were hanging out, started approaching him. He waited until it was close enough and he positioned the spear so that the walker feel on it. "Oh shit," said Daryl as about a dozen walkers were hobbling towards him. He used his good arm to pull himself up onto his feet. No way could he take on that many walkers with only one arm. He grabbed the spear and started moving, he was slow and weak, not getting anywhere very fast. They were just behind him when one came out from behind a tree, startling him and knocking him to the ground, he reached for the gun out of his belt and fired, the body falling limply on top of him. The sound sent his ears ringing and his vision went blurry, the last thing he saw before falling unconscious was a walker's hand reaching for him. Then everything went black.
