Daryl leaned against a tree at the edge of the forest above the quarry and looked down at the lake below where Andrea had waded in and was casting a line. He scanned the shore line until his eyes fell on Carol. She was on her knees scrubbing clothes in the water. Amy was helping her, as was Morales's wife, whose name Daryl couldn't remember. It was like they'd stepped back two centuries in time, when men were men and women were women. He didn't hate it.

Daryl's skill set didn't exactly translate well to the modern world, and he liked the idea of women cooking for him and washing his clothes and looking after all the camp's children together. His mama hadn't done much of that, once she took to the bottle. Daryl had cooked for himself (which meant he didn't eat much that wasn't either bland or at heavily salted), washed his own clothes (which meant they were rarely clean), and raised himself (which meant he didn't know how to behave in civilized society). But here there were women doing the kinds of things he'd always wished his own mother would have done, and they were already starting to rely on him to put meat on the table in the evening.

If he stayed here, he'd have a role in this community, and it would matter to someone other than Merle whether he lived or died, because they would need him to hunt. Something about this place just felt like...well...like it could possibly become a home. One day. Maybe.

Daryl shook off the silly thought. This was nothing but a stopping point, a momentary blip on the road to Kentucky, and from Kentucky...God knew where. Or, rather, Merle knew where, because Daryl was just going to follow his brother, like he'd always done. He thought of what Darlene had said to him, that he was like a puppy, always nipping on the heels of the big dog. That he was a boy and not a man.

Daryl gritted his teeth. He had hated Darlene's words, but even more, he hated that there might be truth in them. He drove the thought deep down into the pit of his stomach. Daryl turned and vanished into the forest, through the grasping branches of the trees, into a solitary world where there was no accusing voice, nobody looking for leadership, and no one to answer to but himself.

[*]

Carol had made a chunky rabbit stew, which she dished onto the camp plates with a slotted spoon so the broth wouldn't run off. Instead, it pooled and lapped the rims of the plates. Then she scooped the rest of the broth evenly into camp cuts so they could drink it as they ate. She sat down when everyone was served, everyone except Daryl, because he hadn't returned from his second trip into the forest. She set aside a plate and cup for him by the fire.

Daryl's big brother didn't seem the least bit worried that he wasn't back. Merle shoveled the food into his mouth and slurped up the broth nosily. Most everyone was done, and half had returned to their private campsites, by the time Daryl did stroll into camp and sit down on a log next to Merle. "Found deer tracks," he said. "Got too dark. Pick up the trail in the mornin'."

Carol rose and went and got him the plate and cup that she'd been holding for him. Ed's eyes followed her suspiciously as she handed it to Daryl, so when he muttered, "Thank ya," she ducked her eyes and scurried back to her seat beside her husband.

Ed leaned down and hissed, "Let him get his own damn plate next time."

She nodded. Daryl looked up at the sound of Ed's voice, and Carol immediately began to study the laced fingers in her lap. She could feel Daryl's eyes on her face and was relieved when she sensed him look away. Daryl ate hungrily and silently as the conversation rose and fell around them like waves.

Sophia handed Carol her plate and disappeared with Carl to catch fireflies under the supervision of Lori and Shane. Ed handed Carol his plate to wash, stood, and fished a cigarette out of his front pocket. As Carol rose, she struggled to steady the three empty plates in her hands, only to find Ed glaring down at her, motioning with his eyes to the cigarette in his hand. "Well hurry up and go on and light it for me, woman!"

Carol was trying to figure out how she was supposed to light his cigarette while juggling plates when Daryl's low voice drifted up from the log where he sat. "Her hands're full. Why don't you light it yer own damn self?"

Carol swallowed and closed her eyes slowly. The worst thing anyone could do was challenge Ed. It would just set him off.

Ed yanked the cigarette from his mouth and strode beyond the fire to where Daryl was sitting. "Why don't you stand up and light it for me, little man?"

Merle let out a long, low whistle. "Ya just gonna take that sittin' down, little brother?" he asked.

Daryl flung his plate into the fire as he stood. The last bit of food slid off and sizzled and cracked in the flames. The metal of the camp plate sparked.

"Stop," Carol pleaded. "You two, please, just - "

Daryl lunged forward and tried to tackle Ed to the ground, but Carol's husband was too big. They grappled in place. The plates rattling in her hand, Carol stepped away from the wrestling men.

The fight was messy and full of grunts and posturing for position. Merle coached, "Get 'em, little brother! Watch your grip! He's a slippery fucker!" As Daryl struggled to gain control, Merle insisted, "Don't be dumb ass! Sweep his leg!" Daryl caught Ed behind the knee and the two men tumbled all the way to the ground.

Carol looked desperately around to find Sophia and hoped she wasn't watching this. She spied Shane strutting toward them.

"C'mon now!" Merle shouted. "Ya got to get him pinned! Good! Now punch the fucker!"

Daryl was pulling back his fist to strike when Shane ripped him off Ed and dragged him back a few feet. Daryl fought to get loose, but Shane's grip was strong. "Get the fuck off me!" Daryl shouted as he jerked loose.

Shane held his hand out in a stop-sign gesture. "Calm down, Daryl. Just take a deep breath and calm down. Whatever you two are fighting about, we don't have to handle it this way."

Daryl did take a few deep breaths. His eyes narrowed and darkened and flickered in the flames of the fire. He paced back and forth in front of Shane, bouncing a little on his feet, as though he wanted to fight more and was trying to fight the urge to fight.

Ed stood up from the ground, dusted himself off, and watched Daryl coolly.

"What the hell are you two fighting about?" Shane asked.

Daryl stopped pacing.

"Asshole disrespected my wife," Ed said.

"What?" Daryl shouted, flinging his arm up into the air as if he was going to step forward and punch, but then he stopped himself and paced again instead. "Yer the one who disrespects your wife, asshole!"

"I'm talking about the way you look at her!"

What was Ed talking about? Daryl didn't look at her. No man looked at her anymore. They hadn't for years. Except for Ed, no man would want her. He'd told her that often enough.

"Don't think I'm an idiot," Ed said. "Don't think I haven't seen."

"Ed, now, come on," Shane said in a conciliatory voice. "I've never seen Daryl looking at Carol that way. He hardly ever looks at anyone. He isn't even around that often. Now let's all just calm down. Let's all settle down and go to our own campsites for the night."

Ed's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed in anger. Carol retreated from the scene and began to anxiously wash the dishes, but she flitted her eyes upward to watch.

Shane was leveling his eyes in warning at Ed. "Now why don't you two shake hands and make up?"

Ed fumed.

"Shake," Shane commanded.

Ed was clearly afraid of Shane, because even though his eyes remained cold and angry, he held out his hand.

Daryl spit on his own palm and then gripped and shook Ed's outstretched hand.

Ed wiped his hand down the front of Daryl's shirt and then shoved him hard.

Daryl stumbled back a step and glowered. He began to stride toward Ed. Shane stood between them, his arms outstretched, a palm on each of their chests. "Enough! This is playground bullshit! Are you men or boys?"

Daryl's eyes flashed. "Ain't no goddamn boy! You fuckin' deal with 'em then." He turned and stomped off to his own campsite, plunked down on his sleeping bag, and began cleaning the tips of his arrows angrily with a rag.

Ed made his way back to their tent, lighting his cigarette as he did so. Carol watched him, her nerves winding into tense coils, knowing he would be extra angry tonight.

[*]

Merle meandered over and plopped down across from Daryl, heels on the ground, knees up, and arms resting on his knees.

"Ed pisses me off," Daryl muttered. "Reminds me of our pa."

"Look. I know sometimes you just need to blow off some steam." Merle turned his head slightly and watched Andrea retreating into the RV. "But I can think of an even better way to blow off - "

"- Jesus, Merle. Give it up. She ain't interested."

"She just don't know she's interested yet." He turned his eyes back to Daryl. "But Little Miss Gray Mouse ain't interested either." He sharply pointed a finger at Daryl. "And you ain't her savior, little brother. So enough of this shit. You just set us back two days on the robbery. Shane's gonna be watching you now."

"Maybe we should forget about the robbery."

"What?"

"Merle, man, what's the point? We got enough shit right here. These people all help each other out."

"You mean you think we should stay here?"

"Why not?" Daryl asked. "Good a place as any."

"This ain't even as sweet as that cabin we were in, and you wanted to leave that. Said you was bored!"

"Yeah, well, I ain't bored no more."

Merle shook his head, stretched out on his side on his sleeping bag, and propped himself up on an elbow. "Yeah, I can see that. After all, you're the entertainment."

"I didn't start that fight." Daryl lay down and crossed his arms behind his neck.

"Yeah," Merle agreed. "No way you could take that insult sittin' down. But you should've had him on the ground faster."

"He's big," Daryl insisted.

"He does what Shane says, though. You notice that?"

"Yeah, I noticed," Daryl admitted. "Don't know what Ed's so afraid of, though. Shane ain't any bigger 'en me. Ain't much any stronger."

"Ain't got shit to do with that. Shane's a leader. All these little sheep," Merle said, waving his hand around the camp, "rely on the sheep dog. They respond to his bark. Which means we got to wait to rob this place until the sheep dog is out in the pasture."

"So we ain't stayin'?" Daryl asked.

"Stayin' for what? Jesus, Daryl. You think these people want you to stay? These ain't your friends. These people detest you. They've only tolerated you these past few days because you been putting food on their table."

Daryl's jaw tightened. It was true, what Merle said. He wasn't their kind. He wasn't anyone's kind. He was better off with just Merle. And after that fight, they'd all be even happier to see him leave, except for the fact that he'd be leaving with half their shit.

Carol would be happiest of all to see him go. She'd clearly just wanted that fight to stop. Carol would be glad to be rid of him. She didn't want someone standing up for her, making things worse. She wanted to retreat into her shell just like his own mama had, pretend it wasn't happening, do whatever she could to avoid setting Ed off.

"Yeah, Merle," Daryl muttered as he settled on his side. "Let's rob the fuck out of these assholes."

[*]

Daryl left at sunrise the next morning to resume tracking that deer. The camp was barely stirring. Most everyone was still asleep.

As he prepared to enter the forest, he passed Carol, who was plucking down yesterday's washed clothes from a line that had been strung between two trees, folding them, and putting them in a wicker basket. He kept his eyes to the ground and assumed he would shuffle past without a word, but she surprised him by speaking. "Were you hurt?"

He stopped a couple of feet from her and, eyes on her cheap canvas shoes, said, "'Course not. Can handle myself in a fight."

"Listen, Daryl…" He looked up. It sounded strange, somehow, his first name falling familiarly from her lips when they ought to be strangers to each other. He could see the dark outline of a bruise on her cheekbone. "I know Ed can be a real jerk sometimes, but it's just better if I don't upset him. I don't need you making things worse by – "

"- Yeah. I get it. Ya don't want to rock the boat." His mind burned with the memory of his own mother telling him not to upset his father. "And fuck it if the boat's all full of holes and it's sinkin' and yer little girl's in it, scared shitless. Long as ya don't rock it, y'll be a'ight, right?"

A stunned expression spread across Carol's face and widened her eyes.

"Get yer spices ready," Daryl said. "Bringin' back another deer. Sure y'll want to fix it just right. So as ya don't upset Ed." He marched into the woods.

[*]

The hunter got closer to the deer, but it still eluded him. Daryl came back instead with three possum he'd found sleeping. He tied them by their tails to the sides of his belt and sauntered out of the woods and into camp, their carcasses swaying against his left leg.

A voice rose from behind a log. "How do you load that thing?" Sophia's eyes peered up over the bark and fell on his crossbow. She was lying stomach down on the ground.

"What ya doin' down there?" he asked. "Yer toad down there?"

"No. I think you scared Ethan away for good."

"Ethan? Hell kind of name is that for a toad?"

Sophia raised herself into a sitting position. She tugged at a weed clawing its way up from the ground. "It's what my mama was going to name my baby brother. If he hadn't died in her tummy."

Daryl had no idea what to say to that. He hoped that baby hadn't died because Ed had hit Carol while she was pregnant. How could she have stayed with him if he had? Hell, how could she stay with him if he hadn't?

Why had his own mother stayed with his father? She'd done it in part for Merle and Daryl, he supposed, because if she'd left Will Dixon, he'd have been a hundred times angrier toward his sons. He'd have found a way to steal them back from her, and then he'd have taken out all his anger at her on them.

Besides, where would his mama have gone? Her parents were dead when the beatings started. She had no brothers to help her stand up for her children. She had no job other than that morning shift at the diner, with its shitty tips. Maybe he'd been too hard on Carol. Maybe she had no one to turn to either. But here, in this community, she ought to be able to find someone. Hell, Daryl would happily guard Sophia against Ed, if Carol decided to leave him, set up her own tent for just her and Sophia. At least, he'd be happy to do it if they were going to stay. But they weren't going to stay. Merle didn't want to stay. And Merle had convinced Daryl that he didn't want to stay either, but...well...maybe he did.

"Why?" Sophia asked. "What would you have named him?"

Daryl was surprised the girl was talking to him, but he answered. "When I's a boy, named my first toad Big Lips."

Sophia giggled. "Your first toad? I didn't think you had toads as pets. I thought you just ate them."

"Sometimes I ate 'em. And sometimes I named 'em and played with 'em. And sometimes I named 'em and played with 'em and then ate 'em."

Sophia grimaced.

"What? It's what ya do with your piglet when ya grow up on a farm. And then it's Easter dinner."

"I wouldn't name the piglet," Sophia insisted. "What were some of your other toads named?"

Why wasn't this girl afraid of him anymore? Maybe it wasn't him she'd been afraid of in the first place. Maybe Merle was wrong. Maybe these people didn't detest him. Maybe Sophia, like Carol, was only afraid of Ed's reaction to her talking to him. Daryl glanced back toward the campsite to make sure Ed was nowhere to be seen.

"My dad's down by the lake," Sophia said, as if she knew just what he was looking for. "What did you name them?"

"Named one Freckles on account of he had freckles. Kind of like yers. There was Leapy...he could jump real good. Milo. Ribbit. Mr. Toad. Swampy. Toady. Tiny. Hellfire."

"Hellfire?"

"Just thought it was cool."

"Why did you fight my daddy last night?" she asked.

"Just…had a disagreement is all. Was he mad at ya after?"

"He was mad at my mama."

"He…uh….he hit her?" Daryl wasn't sure why he asked it. He could already guess the answer, and it didn't do any good to make Sophia say it.

Daryl had made the mistake once of telling a teacher that his dad had whipped him with a jagged switch. The teacher had called CPS on his father, but CPS hadn't done anything about it except ask his daddy a few questions and file a report. Will Dixon had been sober and charming when they happened to stop by. He'd said Daryl had fallen into a briar patch when he'd been out playing in the woods after curfew, and he was upset because his father had taken away his bicycle for his misbehavior, so he was just making up angry stories. But later that night, he'd whipped Daryl hard for talking about it and told Daryl he better not see him being "chatty with adults" in the future.

Sophia stood. "I have to go help my mamma." She ran off.