6 days later

I was at the table in the main room, sorting through cans from the latest run. The second one since we arrived, and a good haul. Rick had gone with Daryl and Glenn, and I was glad to do something. Kept my mind off of the world. Maggie was beside me, scribbling routes to nearby towns over the new maps they had brought.

Movement from where Sawyer was sitting caught my eye. I had given him a red plastic cup, and he had been sitting there for almost an hour, turning it back and forth in his childish hands. Blond hair swept over his eyes. Never making a sound.

I watched as Daryl approached him. He hadn't said much to me since the day I woke up, not that I cared. I didn't think he liked being inside, he was more often on watch when he wasn't hunting. Squirrels were his specialty, it seemed, although you wouldn't catch me complaining.

Sawyer didn't look up at his ragged visitor. Kept his focus on the plastic cup as he turned it around and around. I saw Daryl rummage into his pocket before pulling something out and setting on the ground in front of him. A little toy firetruck. He must have picked it up on his run.

Sawyer stared at it, sneaking a cautious look at the giver of his gift before reaching out and pushing it with a single finger over the concrete floor.

Daryl turned towards the table and I ducked my head to hide the almost-smile I didn't know was there, focusing on sorting the food into rations. And then he was gone again, out the door with his bow over his back. I couldn't figure him out, but he was good. I trusted him, although I didn't know why.