READERS: I am SO sorry for the delay in writing this newest chapter. I am taking full-time classes at the university and I am working, plus have the kiddos to chase around, so life has been pretty crazy as of late. I will do my very very best to get these subsequent chapters written and published on here so there isn't such a long wait! Sorry again, guys! Love you all! 3

Chapter 4: Bite the Hand That Feeds

By Cerafine

The back of Daryl's head slammed into the dusty cabin floor. He saw stars, shook his head hard once to clear it, and put up his arm to block Henri's attack just as the blade of her knife slashed downward. He felt the slice of pain as the blade glanced off of his forearm, even though the attack was a weak one. You're lucky as shit that she ain't up to snuff right now, he thought.

"Hey, hey! Stop!" He shouted in what he hoped was a firm but not sinister voice. "You're actin'-" he almost said crazy and stopped. He remembered from the fights his folks had when he was a boy; his mom had always been bad, but when his old man had called her crazy fuckin' bitch, she showed him how crazy she really was.

Thinking better of it, he said: "You're not in your right state of mind... them meds on an empty gut and your head getting' banged up has you out if it. Settle the fuck down."

His hands were holding tight to her forearms now, keeping the knife just far enough from his chest. She was panting over him, straining to push the knife further down. Her eyes were wild and full of fury, her red hair in disarray, hanging in frizzy tendrils into his face. He shook her lightly and quieted his voice, hard as it was. This bitch was trying to stab him. "Henri. Henrietta."

She jerked her eyes up to meet his and he felt her stop pushing against his hold. She was still breathing hard, gasping, her chest straining to rise and fall against the tape he had carefully wrapped her busted ribs with. He could hear a small wheezing sound coming from her. He tried again. "Henri. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm the one who saved you, remember? I killed that bastard fucker who raped you, I carried you away so they couldn't get you. I patched you up, gave you pills for the pain." He paused. "Which, I'm startin' to see, wasn't such a good idea without givin' ya some food first. That's on me." Her eyes were still wild, but the fury was gone and now she just looked confused. "Will you eat somethin'? Just sit down, let me get it for ya? Then we'll talk. Shouldn't've left you in here alone, I was... bein' a dick." He scowled at the admission, then quickly smoothed his face out. "Sorry."

Letting out a pained whoosh of breath, she finally let him take the knife from her shaking hand and he felt her slight form collapse on top of him. She was so light it barely registered with his senses. He kept a firm grip on the knife, sliding his left arm around her and splaying his hand across her back. He rolled them sideways to the left, slipped his arm out from under her, and laid her gently on her back. Once she was clear of him, he sprang to his feet and hurled the knife across the room in anger, where it stuck fast in the cabin wall, quivering. Despite his gentle tone when she was having her meltdown, he was more mad than he'd been in as long as he could remember- the bitch had just tried to kill him and had actually succeeded in giving him a pretty goddamn bad cut on his arm. The blood from the wound was rolling down his wrist and fingers in scarlet ribbons and pattering like ominous rain on the dirty cabin floor.

"The hell is wrong with you, woman?" He was shouting down at her. "I ain't done a thing but save your ass when you was in trouble, hell I'm still the one savin' your crazy ass, and this is what I get for it. I got half a mind to leave your doped-up ass here and take off, on my own. That's how I operate best anyways." He flung an arm out in frustration, pissed beyond words. He thought he was done, but he stomped back to her supine form on the floor as more angry words poured out: "I don't owe you nothin'. You hear me? Nothin'. You ain't worth a damn thing to me, I don't know you, I don't give a shit if you make it outta here." He stalked away again, then back over to glare down at her, pacing.

Her green eyes were still glazed and rolling in her head as she lay still on the floor, watching him rage. She cleared her throat, tried to say something, and it barely came out a whisper. He bent over her and snapped, "What was that? Speak up!"

She tried again, and this time it was clear. "I was not raped," she gritted out between clenched teeth. "I don't know what you think you saw, but he wasn't raping me. So shut the fuck up about it." She was still out of it and her words slurred slightly, but her eyes were sparking with anger and indignation.

"Who the fuck you tryin' to kid, Henri?" Daryl flung down at her. "I saw everything, you get that? I saw what he was doin'. Why do you think I ended that piece of shit right then and there? He didn't deserve life after doin' that." He was looking down at her with disdain. "It's stupid, what you're doin', actin' like nothin' happened. He made you do it, nothin' that coulda been helped- why lie about it?"

He looked closely at her face, gauging her reaction. She had turned her face away from him, to the wall, and her eyes were looking at something a thousand miles away. He expected to see tears springing from her eyes, but they were dry. She lay tense and unmoving on the floor.

"Well?" He demanded, not ready to quit badgering her just yet. "Let's talk this out, girl. Or not, I don't really give a shit. Just don't try to kill me again or next time I really will leave your ass here." He walked to the table by the door, grabbed his bow, and shouldered it, making sure he had plenty of arrows. Shoving a bottle of water into his bag, he stopped for a moment before heading across the room to the wall and yanking Henri's knife out of the dark, scarred wood. "I'll just hang onto this," he said, his voice dripping with irony. "Don't fuckin' leave, and try not to move. I'm goin' out to hunt, get somethin' other than pills and water into your gut." He slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the darkness.

WATCH IT BURN

Henri lay still on the floor of the cabin for a long while, trying to pull coherent thoughts out of her muddled brain. The one thing she was having a hard time getting past was how Daryl could have stayed with those dicks, been a part of their group, for so long if he knew what they were capable of... It made her feel as if she couldn't trust him. And she wanted to trust him, badly; he had saved her life, executed her rapist, was still taking care of her. And he was right- he didn't owe her a goddamn thing. That was another issue that was making her wary- nothing in life was free or done out of the goodness of a stranger's heart in this new, ravaged world that had emerged from the Turn. Everything had a price, and at times it was too heavy to pay. What did he want from her?

As her hazy thoughts lurched, tilted, and swirled to the forefront of her consciousness before flitting away again to be forgotten, she realized she was alone. Where had he gone? Had he told her? She couldn't remember. Perhaps he had left her for dead, which would be fitting considering what she had done. She wasn't sure what had happened to prompt the attack exactly, only knew that the pills had begun to work on her and then she remembered everything that had happened to her: the attack, the beating, the rape... and then it was all a haze of nausea, fear and fury. She knew she had cut him, his blood was on her shirt and on the floor next to her. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Will's voice chided her. Give the man a chance, he's trying to help you.

Feeling groggy and tired, she let her eyes slip shut, letting her tense muscles relax as her breathing deepened. "Okay, Will," she mumbled on her way out of reality. "I trust you."

The darkness swallowed her up.

WATCH IT BURN

Four hours later, while still dark, Daryl knew the sun would be making its appearance over the Eastern horizon past the thick Georgia forest within the next couple of hours. One thing he never tired of- seeing the sky lighten to a deep blue in the distance, a pretty precursor to daylight as the stars began to fade in the blue-black sky.

He hitched his bow higher up on his shoulder and trudged back East, in the direction of the cabin. He hadn't had a great haul, a couple of squirrels and rabbits, but it was better than nothing and would help Henri. He was starving too, but she was the one he was most concerned about. The girl didn't weight 115 pounds soaking wet, she didn't have room for starvation. He still did.

He shook his head as he headed back, not sure what the hell to say to her when he returned. She tried to kill me, fucked up my arm, so why do I feel like shit for talkin' to her that way? But he knew why. Henri had good reason to be afraid of him. He had been a member (though a new one) of the group of men that had fucked up her world, though she was lucky that only two of them had found her. She'd most likely have been dead by now if the entire group had run across her. Dead or beggin' for death, he thought grimly as he walked. Her stubborn refusal to admit that she had been assaulted was not lost on him. He understood that she was embarassed, but beyond that he didn't get it. He wanted to find out why. Maybe once she ate she'd be more conversational.

He thought of that moment back in the house, her razor-sharp green eyes and the sun shining throught the blinds onto them, making her pupils dilate and her eyes seem even more mystical and captivating. They seemed to bore right into him, through him, seeing into his soul, if he even had one left after everything. He thought of her red flame of hair that reflected perfectly on her and her personality; wild and free, untamed, beautiful, unique. The freckles across her nose and cheeks that seemed to give her an air of innocence, made her look very young. He thought of the scared, caged-animal look in her eyes when she had attacked him and it made him wince. He wished fervently that he could go back in time and keep her away from those bastards. It had changed her in a profound and visible way- she had been damaged before, something in her past left a mark on her like a scar, painful and obvious... but this had made her into something else. He would have to find out her age when he got back, maybe get a little back-story on her. The reason he was keeping her alive, helping her? He was absolutely intrigued. He wanted to see where she would take him. He wanted to know her.

Sure you ain't just lookin' for another Beth to watch over? His thoughts intruded, a smirk behind them. Can't handle bein' alone, no one dependin' on you to keep 'em alive, huh?

"That ain't it," he muttered to himself. This girl was nothing like Beth, in any way, shape or form. Beth was sweet, brand-new to anything horrifying or tragic in the world until the Turn. And although she had lost her mother and brother right away, along with her boyfriends, she had still had family to cling to for quite awhile after shit got bad. She was protected, sheltered at the prison, doing pretty much nothing but taking care of Little Asskicker. She didn't have much in the way of survival skills. Beth was so young when the Turn had happened that it had shaped a large part of her personality. By contrast, Henri was older. She was anything but sweet. She had an adult, independent life, maybe with a family of her own, and a job before the Turn. She was tough, inside and out. He had yet to see her shed a tear, despite her pain and the trauma of her attack. She was a survivor. She was a loner. She was a fighter. All things he had been, all his life. Until recently, anyways. Her personality was one that had bloomed into an unstoppable, fiery force; the way she had talked to him, the fierceness in her green eyes, and the confidence with which she carried herself had pulled him in like a moth to a flame.

Watch yourself, he thought, a warning. You ready to handle this? You don't need no one, you oughtta just take off and leave her. She ain't gonna bring you nothin' but trouble. She's gonna get you killed.

Spitting on the forest floor as he moved quickly, hefting his crossbow, he said aloud: "Might as well be her."

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"The fuck are you doin', dipshit?" Joe's voice snarled. Tony looked up from his path, which he had been stumbling along in a haze, lost in his own world. He had been trying to keep up, but the heroin he had injected last night to help him relax was still working on him and it was almost impossible to keep his head straight this morning.

"Nothin' Joe, I'm fuckin' walkin'," he muttered back, trying to concentrate on setting his feet down without tripping. He was absolutely loyal to Joe, because Joe had found him when he was at the end, the bitter end of his rope, shivering and shuddering with hallucinations and DT's. People weren't kidding when they had told him that heroin withdrawal was worse than death- he had begged for it when Joe had found him. He was huddled in the corner of a filthy garage, eyes wide and bloodshot, crying out in terror because even when a zombie wasn't coming at him, he hallucinated them. He always thought they were surrounding him, was screaming incoherently and punching at the air. Joe had knocked his feet out from under him, leaned close, and said: "I ain't gonna kill ya, boy. What you on? I can make this stop, if you'll come with me and pledge your loyalty."

And he had. Somehow, Joe had what he had needed. Every once in awhile, when they hit a city or a town, Joe always seemed to know where to go to find a burned-out, deserted drug-dealing part of town that had been left behind. While everyone else was out scavenging for food in the group, Joe would make sure that Tony had his fix. If they couldn't find heroin, a little coke or meth or even some weed would take the edge off for awhile. Tony often wondered what the hell he was going to do when they ran out of drugs to loot, and he always shook it off with this thought: I won't live long enough for that to happen anyways. Due to this show of mercy from his leader, Tony was fiercely loyal; he knew Joe should have just kicked him to the curb and put a bullet in his head. He was a liability and not worth the effort.

So, this situation with Len, the traitorous Daryl and that redheaded cunt-whore who had fucked up everything had put him in a shitty spot with his group, and mainly with Joe. He had been certain that Joe would "teach him all the way" when he had run back to Joe's abandoned claimed house and nearly kicked down the door, wild-eyed and shouting that Daryl and some bitch had gotten the jump on Len and killed him before they fled.

Joe had been asleep on the couch in the house's living room, and startled awake with a look of quiet fury and his pistol raised, pointed at Tony. "What the fuck are you saying to me? Why didn't you tell us Daryl had a female in his house?" He snarled.

"We didn't know for sure until she came outside. By then it was too late to come tell you. So we just grabbed her." Tony swallowed hard and lowered his head, waiting for what he knew was inevitable. "Len said we should take her first, and then bring her to you. Said if we roughed her up a little, it wouldn't be a big deal, as long as we brought her to you after."

Joe was glaring at him, his free hand turning into a balled-up fist. "And why would you go along with somethin' like that? Don't I always let all you boys have a turn? Do I ever deny you that?" His voice was dangerously quiet. His face was a raging storm.

"N-No-"

WHAM! Tony was sprawled on his back looking up at the ceiling before he even knew what was happening. He looked up dazedly to see Joe still glaring down at him. "You cost me both of my bowmen, Tony. Had you come and told me you suspected someone was in Daryl's house, I'd've gone over myself and he would've let me in, whether he wanted to or not. With me calling the shots, we could've taken the girl and Daryl and Len would still be here. Now I'm gonna be forced to hunt down Daryl and kill him, then take the girl. Maybe take the girl and tear her apart right in front of Daryl, that'd be a good payback for this shit he's pulled."

He sat down on the couch, dropping his head into his hands. "We took that boy in when he was alone and in trouble, and look what thanks we get for it. That ungrateful motherfucker." Joe swiftly stood again and pointed a finger down at Tony, who was still too afriad of Joe to get up off the floor yet. "You are going to fix this, dumbass. Go round up the guys, tell them what happened and get everyone's shit together. We're headin' out in half an hour. We're gonna find them."

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Henri was having a nightmare about a walker gripping her shoulders and trying to get at her with its teeth. The rotting stench of decaying flesh filled her nostrils and she cried out, her hands encircling the thing's wrists and trying to pry them away from her body. "No!" she cried.

"Henri. Henri! It's me, wake up!"

Her eyes flew open and she nearly cried in relief, seeing Daryl's passive face and sea-blue eyes in front of hers. His hands rested on her shoulders but he looked tensed and ready to move away if she showed any signs of wigging out again.

As a show of good faith, she gently rested her hands on his arms and said, "I'm okay. Sorry, was having a dream."

"Musta been a bad one," he grunted, looking surprised at her touching him. He gave her a cautious half-smile and stood up quickly, removing his hands from her shoulders. "You feel alright? Steadier? You fucked up my arm earlier. I shoulda been ready for that, but I wasn't. Tired, I s'pose." He tossed his kill for the night onto the table and unshouldered his crossbow, setting it down next to the animals.

Henri spoke up curiously: "You hunted all night?"

He nodded, sitting down next to the table on the floor. "The animals are already spooked by the walkers roamin' around in the woods, so it's kinda hard to get the jump on 'em. Gotta wait a long time." He eyed her. "There's a couple rabbits and some squirrels, I'm'a get a little fire goin' out back and cook 'em up for ya."

Henri was surprised into silence for a few moments. "I- thank you. You don't need to do that, I can cook them, I can't believe you hunted food for me after what I did. Why? Why are you taking care of me?"

He snorted and stood again, searching the table for his skinning knife with his back to her. "Just feel like you're my responsibility, that's all. My fault you got attacked, it was the group I was with done it. Gotta make sure you're on your feet and fightin' again before I cut you loose." He turned around and headed to the back door, carting the animals with him. "I'll be out here if you need me." The door shut firmly behind him.

Henri sincerely hoped her face hadn't fallen in disappointment when he said the words "cut you loose." She had kind of been hoping they could stick together and make their own small group, maybe she could get him to come to South Carolina with her to find Jennifer. What did you expect, Henrietta? A not-Will voice sneered in the back of her mind. After what you did? It's a wonder he let you live. Of course he doesn't want to keep you around as a burden.

Pissed, Henri shook her head and stuck her nose into the air, setting her jaw proudly. She didn't need Daryl to survive. It was true, he had saved her ass in more ways than one and she was indebted to him for that, but she had survived on her own for a long goddamned time before he came across her and she would continue to survive without him and his help. The only reason she had this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was because she knew, without a doubt, that if she stuck with Daryl, no man would ever touch her again. They would have to get past him first, which was unlikely. Alone, she would be vulnerable.

She shuddered at the thought of Len's sick smile and his gruff voice in her ear. Dead or not, she knew that disgusting, menacing voice would haunt her sleep for years to come.

That's a good girl.

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The tiny shed out back wasn't much, but it was enclosed and had a tin roof over the top. This would be a good place to start a small fire and quickly cook up the animals he had hunted when the time came. He sat on a stump, skinning them quickly and carefully with his knife, dropping the skins into a bloody pile in the dirt next to him.

He sat, deep in thought as he worked. They would have to move on soon; Joe was vicious and crazy but he wasn't stupid. Even though Daryl had taken off in the opposite direction he figured Joe thought they would take, he also knew Joe might have already taken that into consideration and may have sent a couple of guys East and a couple West to catch up with them. Joe knew the girl was injured, surely, and he knew they wouldn't have gotten too far before they had to stop. It was only a matter of time before they caught up.

This ain't nothin' to gamble on, his thoughts warned. She can't be here when they turn up, and they WILL turn up here. You thought about what they do to traitors? You can't be here either, dumbass. Time to move on.

"I will, soon as she's eaten," he muttered. "We'll head out tonight." He stabbed the skinning knife into the stump beside him and stood, striding to the shed with the skinned meat in his hands. He quickly gathered up what he needed for a fire, set the sticks and leaves up in the hole he had dug into the shed's dirt floor, and pulled out his flint to get it started. This was a huge risk, he knew, lighting a fire right now. They were downwind of the town, the shed's roof would help disperse the smoke cloud, and it sat right under a cluster of pines, so that would have to do. It was the best chance at concealing the fire he had, and he had a sneaking suspicion Princess in there wouldn't be too keen on eating raw squirrel and rabbit meat today. Hopefully they wouldn't be found because of it.

He struck the flint over the pile and thought again, Why don't you leave? He knew it was useless, there was no way he was leaving Henri behind. And again: She's gonna get you killed.

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He had cooked the meat and stomped out the fire. He headed inside with the meat skewered on sticks, his hand on his hunting knife in its hilt. "Done," he called as he swung the door open. It was utterly silent and dark inside the cabin, the only light pouring in in spurts from the cracks around the boards over the windows and under and above the doors. Dust motes danced around these tiny fingers of light that splayed out into the room. Pausing to let his eyes adjust, he stood very still and thought he heard a whisper from the far right corner of the room, behind what he had come to think of as the supplies table where all their weapons and bags sat and to the left of the front door if you were walking inside.

He took a hesitant step forward, towards the whisper. "Henri?" he said in a low, barely discernible tone. He heard the whispering again, this time louder and more urgent. Just as he was about to crouch down to the floor and get closer, there was a loud CRASH as the front door flew inwards on its rusty hinges, splinters flying everywhere. He immediately flattened himself onto the floor near the table, then rolled to his right to get closer to it and his weapons. "Henri!" He hissed between clenched teeth, hoping she was out of the line of fire. He jumped to the balls of his feet, still in a crouch under the table, his fingers tented on either side of him for balance on the dusty floor. He snaked his hand up to the right side of the table, felt his bow. No time for that. He felt a little farther down and felt his gun. Was it loaded? Yes it was.

He waited for the fucker who kicked in the door to make his appearance. Waited for what seemed like an hour, but must have only been a half a minute. What the fuck? Too late, he realized his mistake in not looking back towards the back door. He felt cold steel on the back of his neck and thought, Goddamn, you're an would Merle say if he could see ya now?

"Drop it or you get a bullet in the skull, boy." Thinking of Henri and her green eyes, he dropped it obediantly.

He was hauled roughly to his feet and jerked away from the table, slammed into the wall on the north side of the house. His ears rang with the force of the slam. He shoved at the hands of the man who had grabbed him, going for the knife at his belt, and got a gun across the face for his efforts. He felt blood explode in his mouth and stilled. The door that had been kicked open had fallen back shut most of the way, letting the dark creep back in; but some light from outside remained, illuminating his attackers just enough. Squinting, he finally realized which ones had found them. His knife was removed and tossed away.

Marty leered into his face with his cheerfully psychotic grin. "Heya, Daryl. Figured we'd catch up to ya before long. Where's the bitch?"

"Dunno what you're talkin' about," Daryl shrugged, feeling wetness trickle down his cheek. The pistol-whip must have sliced him. "I'm alone."

"That right? Well, ain't that funny. We heard you put an arrow through Len and took off with some little whore into the woods like the hounds of hell was on your asses. Which, I guess you could say, they were." Marty chuckled darkly and glanced back at his counterpart. "Ain't that funny, Ray?"

Ray was standing about 3 feet back, his Judge levelled at Daryl's face. "Yeah, that's funny," he boomed.

Ray did not look as if he found anything to be funny.

Daryl held up his hands and said, "Y'all got me. Let's go. I'll answer to Joe, take me back."

Marty gave Daryl a feral, curved smile and patted Daryl on the shoulder with his free hand. "Yeah, see... That's the thing. We're under strict orders to find the whore you left with and bring both of you back. Joe's got somethin' wicked planned for the two a'you." His grin widened and he gave Daryl a patronizing shrug. "Orders are orders, buddy. So we can't just leave till we find her. You wanna tell us where she's at?"

Daryl looked at him like he was the dumbest motherfucker left alive, which he might well have been. With a smirk, he said, "I gave her directions to Disneyworld and told her to fuck off. Why don'tcha head southeast and see if you get lucky?"

Marty stepped back for a moment, nodded as if taking in this statement, and then pressed his knife against Daryl's throat. "You better start singin', you little traitorous piece of shit," he spat into Daryl's face, "or I'll start cuttin'. Joe won't give a shit if you come back with one less ear, or minus an eye, or short a few fingers. He only wants you alive, not whole. So you fuckin' tell me-"

A deafening report sounded from behind Ray and to his left, and a flash lit up the cabin for one split second. Enough for Daryl to see a shock of red hair spin away to Ray's right. Daryl smirked and looked back at Marty, whose grip had loosened and whose knife was slowly falling away. Marty had blood pouring from his mouth and his eyes were blank and dead. He slumped over into a heap in front of Daryl, his knife clattering to the floor.

"Fuck!" He heard Ray curse as the big man scrambled to change his position in the dark. "Where the fuck is that little bitch?!" He shouted into the dark in Daryl's direction.

Daryl smiled, his teeth glinting in the dark room.

He heard a soft creak, then he heard a high, feminine voice whisper, "Right here."

Daryl ducked and slid down the wall, finding his knife on the floor where Marty had thrown it. He needn't have worried though, because Ray's gun fired in the opposite direction of where he crouched, toward the south wall. Wincing at the sound, he hoped Henri had gotten clear of it. He waited in the ensuing silence.

Frustrated, Ray screamed out, "Where in the fuck are you at, bitch?!"

In the resulting quiet, Daryl again heard the high, tinkling whisper, "I told you, I'm right here."

He heard a slight scuffle, a choked gurgling sound, and then a thud as (a gun?) hit the floor, followed by the louder, meaty thud of a heavy body. Daryl ran quickly to the back door and shoved it open, throwing darting glances around the cabin.

By the south wall, right across from where he had crouched, was Henri. She was crouched down with her elbows resting on her knees, wiping her bloody knife off on Ray's filthy shirt. She had knifed him right at the base of his skull, putting him down like a walker.

She gazed up at him, her bright green eyes sparking with triumph, and although she must have been in a little pain, she kept her face carefully hard. She almost appeared to glow in the aftermath of the men she had killed, like some archangel who had been sent to Earth to rain down heavenly wrath on the heads of all those who dared defy her. She stood and straightened her shoulders, cocking her head at him, a small half-smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "You okay?" She gestured with her knife to the cut over his cheekbone. "I'll look at it for you." Her eyes trailed down him to the slice she had gouged into his arm, which he had never washed or wrapped. It was dirty and looked red and angry. She nodded at it. "And that too."

"Nah, it's fine. Leave it."

She shook her head and set her jaw, her eyebrows furrowed down over the endless green pools of her eyes as she approached him purposefully. "Stow that shit, because I'm going to treat those cuts. You may as well get used to the idea." She planted her hands on her hips with only a slight wince and stood her ground, eyeing him.

Daryl was not just amused by this, but taken aback. She had seemed timid, like a whipped child, and scared just a few hours before. He didn't know what had changed her this way, but he liked it. This was the girl he wanted to see, this was the girl he had sacrificed staying with his group for, degenerates that they were.

This was the girl he wanted at his side, even if it was to the bitter, bloody end.

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"Look, I'm really sorry about that in there." She looked sheepish as she gently washed his cuts with water, a small square of soap from her bag, and a clean rag. Her small, slender fingers were cool against his skin as she worked.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" He asked, incredulous. "You kicked ass. You killed those guys, who were way bigger than you and intended some not-nice things for us. You put 'em down like you were born for have nothin' to be sorry for." He watched her face as she listened, seeing her flush and look away.

"Oh, I didn't mean that. Those miserable fucks had that coming, probably for years. I meant when you first came in with the food and called out for me. I was trying to warn you, but that shorter guy was so close to the window... I was afraid he'd hear me if I spoke too loudly and just come crashing in faster. I whispered to you twice, but if I'd been louder or come over closer to you, maybe you wouldn't be all banged up now. You could have gotten somewhere quicker."

"Bullshit," he scoffed. "It's a scratch and believe me, I've had fuckin' worse. You made the right calls, all of them. I shoulda known better than to start a fire with people lookin' for us in the woods. Speakin' of which..." He held up a skewered squirrel and grunted at her, "here's your supper."

She looked from the cooked squirrel to him and back, and he saw a funny look come across her face, and then she started laughing. She threw back her head and laughed, her flame of hair falling down her back, a throaty, bubbly sound like water singing through the big rocks in the river. Her eyes were closed, her nose scrunched up, her dimples showing on her cheeks. Her small white teeth were visible as she slowed it to a giggle, then small guffaws before she subsided. "Thanks. I am starving. I gotta say though..." she tipped him a wink with one green eye, "you sure know how to make a girl feel special." This set her off again, and he couldn't help but grin as she let out gales of laughter. Eventually, her case of the giggles ran out, and she was completely focused on bandaging his arm after cleaning and sterilizing the cut on his cheek. Her eyes were narrowed, her jaw set tensely, and you would never have guessed she had been giggling gleefully just minutes before. He could see the darkness of her past in her eyes and in the set of her pretty face, feel the black cloud of her assault and whatever other pain she was carrying heavy in her presence. It was most noticeable in the bruises and swelling still visible on her face, and in the stiff, careful way she was walking.

Please tell me, he thought absently as he watched her, a strand of red hair falling over her face which she impatiently brushed behind her ear. Tell me everything. But what he did was pull his arm away from her gentle touch and say quietly, "You need to eat. We're headin' out at high noon and we ain't stoppin' for a long time." He handed the food to her and stood, walking quickly away.

WATCHITBURNWATCHITBURNWATCHITBURNWATCHITBURNWATCHITBURN

Henri put away her meager supplies, the soap, the bottled water, the cotton bandage roll. She stuck her knife into its hilt on her belt and looked up at the blue Georgia sky, shielding her eyes from the white-hot glare of the sun. It was nearly noon, and she was ready to go. She started to bend at the waist to reach over the table, grabbing for Daryl's bag to take it outside, and a bolt of pain up her ribs on both sides made her gasp loudly and clutch at her sides, arms folded over each other. She felt lightheaded for a moment, and swirls of light swam before her eyes, obscuring her vision briefly before subsiding. She heard the rattle of a pill bottle and then a hand appeared over her shoulder with two round white pills in it. "Take them," was the gruff order, and there was no room for argument in that voice.

She did and swallowed them down, looking at him with apprehension in her gaze. "Don't worry," he said. "You've eaten, and these shouldn't mess with your head this time. You'll need 'em, 'cause you're gonna be on your feet and hiking for a long, long time today. We may end up walking all night. Think you can handle that?" There was a challenge in his hard blue eyes.

She lifted her chin and said, "I'm ready when you are."

Nodding, he took his bag from the table and shouldered it, then took up his crossbow and slung it across his back. "Your Glock loaded? Got your knife?" He glanced over at her as he began walking away.

"Yeah."

They walked side by side out of the cabin, leaving the doors wide open. Marty and Ray lay dead and stiffening in pools of drying blood on the dirty floor. They didn't look back.

About a half-hour into their trek, Henri noticed that Daryl was looking over at her. "What is it? If you have something to say or ask, then do it."

He spoke up finally. "Somethin' I been wonderin' about since you killed those two. When you saw they had me dead to rights, and you coulda slipped out while they were focused on me, why didn't you? It easily could've gone bad. It was pure luck you got the jump on Ray, the guy was a monster. He would have torn you apart, had it gone the other way and he got ahold of you."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes his direction. "Give me some credit. That wouldn't have happened."

He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at her. "I had just told you I was cuttin' you loose when you felt better, so it's not like you had any obligation to me. Why did you risk it?"

She stopped and stared at him, something between anger and desperation running across her features. "I heard them threaten to hurt you," she said flatly. "I wasn't going to shoot, was gonna wait till they left with you and follow them out, maybe get them in the backs of their heads when I could see better in the daylight. Then I heard that asshole say he was going to start cutting you up and..." she looked down at the ground, then back up, but past him instead of at him. "I don't know what happened. I just raised the gun and fired at his head."

He moved his head slightly to get her focus back on him, and she met his eyes again. "You saved my life. You saved me. You didn't have to, but you did... And I am grateful, for whatever it's worth. But now there's no going back, is there? We can't just part ways, so I hope you don't think that's happening, because it's bullshit." She held his gaze and he felt something stirring in him. "The thought of something happening to you... I couldn't bear it. That's why I did what I did, okay?"

She spun away from him and began walking briskly again through the trees. "You coming or what?" She called back over her shoulder, tossing her red mane of hair back.

"Yep." He started after her, a smirk on his face.