The door burst with a loud thud to the wall when they rushed into the pharmacy. Daryl took out a lone walker and Carl and Rick cleared the remaining three, one half torn apart on the floor behind the counter in a lab coat.

"Clear back here." Levi yelled as he came in through the back of the building kicking around empty pill bottles on the floor occasionally looking to see if any were what they were looking for.
"Looks like it was picked over pretty bad." Rick said. His eyes peered through the disheveled shelving his eyes empty and tired.

"Here are some clean bandages and rubbing alcohol." Carl showed Levi and slung his backpack off to stow the items away. They continued to search the bottles for anything.

"This is the third one. Just can't find that shit anymore." Levi suddenly tossed one of the orange bottles across the room. The previous days they spent quietly moving from town to town but had yet to come across any antibiotics. Skylar was healing quickly but the bullet wound in her leg was beginning to show infection. Any pressure on the leg from standing made her limp in pain. Michonne restricted her movement and often was the one who stayed back with her while the others scavenged for supplies. Levi and Skylar weren't sure if they could trust these people but necessity superseded their cautious nature.

It had been nearly two weeks since the forest was cleared and the group separated. Rick was anxious to get back to Judith after the short reunion they shared, it felt similar to losing her a second a time. Carl and Daryl both still shaken by what had taken place with the marauders and later at Terminus seemed the least concerned with the new strangers they had acquired. Carl instinctually felt a trust for them both, especially Skylar. Their fates were now directly linked to him and he would have it no other way. Frustration at where the rest of their group was seemed at the forefront of Rick's mind but he knew they had to press toward DC as was discussed if separation ever happened. Eventually they would run into each other.

"You done that before?" asked Michonne. The past few days in the old abandoned house where they stayed, she had grown to get along well with Skylar. Memories of a winter with Andrea made her nostalgic and somewhat nervous to get too close to the new woman.

Skylar laid on her side slowly push ing the knife's sharp point into the swollen fluid filled pocket of her injured leg. Her face grimaced as infected tissue and blood flew out of the punctured skin. "Agh, fucking hell!" she exclaimed.

"Pretty dirty mouth for such a fancy name," Daryl walked in with Rick and the others and tossed a bottle of pills to her.

"Don't get excited, they're just pain pills, but they're strong," Levi explained, "Still didn't come across what we're looking for." He knelt down to look at her leg. "Hey, we'll find some." He said reassuringly.

"Shit, you found hydromorphone?" she asked.

Levi glanced up, "Daryl snagged it from a satchel on the back of a walker."

Carl came over to her and gave her what items he had found.

The abandoned house they were holed up in looked to have been a military outpost at one point. They found a small stash of ammunition and two guns but most of the food was gone. The living area was converted to sleeping quarters with mattresses pulled on the floor and sofas lining the walls. It opened to the kitchen where there was a wood burning stove and a decent supply of wood. Things must have gone south there rather quickly for those who left seemed only to take what they could carry. The weather blew much colder now but all intentions were not to stay but a few more days. The location was high and walkers were scarce. Despite the low threat, Rick still assigned night watch.

"Carl you sleep tonight, Michonne and I will watch," Rick said.

"You've been up two nights with no sleep," Levi began, "I'll take it."

Daryl saw his hesitation and spoke up. "I got it."

"All I've been doing is laying around, let me watch. Nothing's wrong with my ears or eyes, and I can shoot straight." Skylar sat up from the mattress. She had taken watch during the day but her offers were refused for previous evening watches. Her leg was decent enough to walk on in pain, button for long.

"It would be better if you rest," Rick said.

"We'll be fine," Skylar said as she pushed herself up against a chair grabbing her tomahawk and handgun.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders to Rick and Levi both looking at the other to speak up again. Previous refusals had ended in a few choice words, ones no one wished to deal with at that moment.

"Fine," Rick agreed, "Six hour shift, then Levi will take over."

Swinging his crossbow over his shoulder Daryl left the house with Skylar hobbling behind getting around much faster than they anticipated or she hid her pain well.

They settled atop a clearing close to the dark house. There were little noises to be heard outside Skylar's occasional readjustments from her sitting position on the ground leaning against her bag. Daryl sat next to her shooting a few unconscious looks. He was curious about her, she seemed young, a little rough, quiet, warm in her conversations with his family, but protective of information from too personal of questions. It was a formal, necessary, and expected characteristic given the state of the world, but she only gave enough to placate.

There were instances where she reminded him of Andrea; strong, strong-willed, kind, and caring. He had not seen her work with Levi and was curious as to their origins. A few hours past with little words between them. As she changed out a bandage on her leg he knelt down and rested his crossbow to the ground.

"You know 'bout medicine?" he asked.

"Maybe a degree above the average person," she replied, her southern accent not as drawn as a Georgian. "Thought I was going to be a doctor one day a long time ago." She tossed the used bandage. Daryl pulled out a small flask from his jacket and extended it out to her.

"Holdin' out?" She smiled and poured a bit over her wound. There was rubbing alcohol in her bag but didn't want to imbue his kind gesture with the fact. She raised it to her lips to take a swig and he nearly knocked it out of her hand taking it from her.

"Ya crazy?" he asked screwing the lid back on. "Brave enough to be around someone on hydromorphone with a gun, but not liquor too."

"I didn't take any, I knew I was night watchin'," she explained, surprised by his reaction. Trying to casually garner information about him she continued. "Why?"

"Stuff alone 'll have you seeing shit. With alcohol, it, just ain't good."

"The pills aren't like injections." She saw he was somewhat bothered by the discussion and seemed more knowledgeable than she anticipated. "I'm sorry. Pain is starting to kick in a little harder. I hadn't had whisky in a long time."

"Don't seem like the whisky type."

"I'm a type?" she asked surprised again.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I'd like to think I'm a high-end scotch if I'm anything." She sighed at the loss of finer libations. "That sounds good." She change the subject when her belly began to groan from hunger. "Your eye okay? Still looks pretty bad."

"It's fine."

"How'd you get it?"

"How'd you get your cut that got stitched?"

His quick response alerted her to the intrusion she must have made him feel.

"Just a question," he said, "Looks like you got on the bad side of someone with a knife, not no slice from a rock." He saw the confusion in her face. "Your pal told me you took a fall and got cut open."

"I guess you could say something like that."

Daryl noticed her avoidance.

"Carl told me what happened," she said as she tightened the new bandage on her leg after removing a hunting knife hidden in her boot. "On the road."

He felt a sudden guilt take over his form but tried to hide it.

"They are all lucky you were there," she said confidently. "Hard to avoid those types of groups these days. There are few good people left, and even they are grasping at their last reserves."

Daryl looked to find her staring at him almost gaging his response by his body language.

A twig snapped not far from them and both jumped to their feet, their ears bending in the direction of the sudden noise. Daryl motioned to her to stay back and he ran into the edge of the woods brandishing his crossbow. He quietly moved while listening to the groans of a walker approaching. It was smaller and its voice didn't carry like others he had come across staggering through the dry leaves. Upon closer inspection he noticed it was a young boy, probably 10 or 11 years old, or what once was one. It lurked closer but he didn't release a bolt, he was fixated on the walker's gaze. Rarely they came across children alone, but this one looked fresh, and evidence of the boy's final moments were left on his body. Two steps away from Daryl the walker fell backward from a direct blow to the head with Skylar's hunting knife. She approached the walker yanking the knife from its skull and looking toward Daryl.

"You know him?"

"I had it."

"I know." She responded. "Looked like it." She began walking back to their hill.

"No, I didn't know him. Just a kid." He said as he caught up with her keeping the slow pace her limp furnished.

"I hadn't seen a kid for over a year until I saw Carl. It's a strange feeling, you know?"

"Tough kid." Daryl added.

Her dealings with Carl were highlighted by his kindness. Rick had made a comment indirectly to Michonne about Carl's trusting and openness with Skylar and though her motives still concerned him, he was grateful for Carl to have a confidant.

"About an hour left," Daryl said, "You head back I'll finish up. It'll take you that long to hobble to the house."

"I could have sworn I killed a walker tonight, must have been something else," she said sarcastically. She grabbed her back pack and made it a few feet before she remembered. "Hey, what else did Levi say when I was out?"

"Said you can't shoot worth shit."