She fought to keep them within sight, for catching up to them again if they should pull too far ahead of her seemed highly unlikely, if not impossible. Finding someone to take her along immediately after getting dropped off proved easier than she had anticipated - her appearance and the urgent look on her face did seem to make an impression on the drivers of the contraptions that she rode in.

Once, when she saw the bike already parked on the edge of a meadow while she was still sitting in the passenger seat of a dilapidated truck delivering building materials, Carol briefly contemplated continuing on ahead so they would for once have to catch up to her, but abandoned the idea again quickly. The risk of losing them at the next fork in the road was too great, and as she never knew exactly where the bike and the wolf as well as her own rides were going when she climbed into whatever vehicle had stopped for her, she had no way of knowing or planning her route.

Therefore, she instantly asked the truck driver to drop her off in the next village, claiming that she needed to get something for her trip there that couldn't be put off. The man shook his head, and more so when she told him not to wait for her but go on at once, but he did as she asked. At least she would be in a reasonably large town the next morning where hitching a new ride would not be quite as difficult as it would be out on the open road.

Despite the unexpected ease of her trip, she hoped that she would not have to go on like this for much longer. All things considered, the risk of losing their trail on the road was too great for her liking.

.-.

They had been traveling into near darkness, making camp only when it had gotten too cold for Daryl to keep riding. Rick went off to hunt while Daryl opened his bedroll and found himself a dry spot to lay out his sleeping bag and blanket. Although another day had passed since they had left behind the village and Carol, taking them to Samhain, the last day of October, it was still significantly warmer than it had been days before farther up in the north. He would be able to go without a fire for the night, unless he decided to have something warm to eat or drink.

Daryl hadn't seen Rick again since they had separated at sundown, and he didn't expect him to put in an appearance again before the sun came up the next morning. Rick, he knew, would make sure their trail was still fresh, and in addition to that he would keep an eye out for signs that Shane had picked up on the fact that they were following him. If he had, Rick would come back to alert him so they could continue right away, without a break. This meant that he had better make the best of what rest he would be able to get, not knowing if it would be cut short or not.

He let his backpack slide off his shoulders and carefully pried his crossbow from its mount above the front wheel of his bike, gently placing it in the grass next to him before he proceeded to unpack the food he'd brought. He had enough to make a decent meal tonight – a heel of bread, a dozen strips of dried meat, and two apples. He could hear a small stream bubbling not too far away, so he'd have enough to drink as well. Getting up, he grabbed his canteen – surely it would be wise to fill it before it was completely dark. He didn't fancy toppling into the stream because he couldn't see where he was placing his feet any longer.

Later, with his camp set up and his belly full, he listened to the sounds of night descending, his back against the ticking engine block of his bike that was still radiating heat, keeping him warm and comfortable. There was a light breeze, but it didn't compare to the fierce, chilling winds that he'd been exposed to up in the north. Although they had only been traveling for four days, the difference in the current temperatures and the general climate was remarkable, already leaving its imprint on the dwellings that he was passing. The windows here were larger, and every house had a porch for spending leisure time outside – something that nobody up in the north would ever consider.

His thoughts drifted back up north, back to Carol. She had been absolutely remarkable, outstanding even, in the way she had treated him. Everyone else who hired a Hunter regarded them more or less as a contracted servant, and this was always reflected in every single interaction between him and his employers - from the way he was addressed to the accommodation he was given. Sometimes he was made to sleep in the stable, next to sheep or pigs, and he could count on one hand the number of times that he had been asked to share a meal with the person who had contracted him.

And Carol Peletier had done much more than treat him with respect, give him a decent room to sleep in, and ask him to share her meals. She had treated him with care – something that he hadn't experienced since his mother had been torn to shreds.

She had looked at him with something that went beyond care.

He stopped himself right there. This was not an idea he should be pursuing, he knew. She had hired and paid him to do a job. Sure, she had gone above and beyond practically everyone else who had ever hired him in the way she had interacted with him, but he admonished himself not to read too much into this. She was a respectable woman, and a kind one. She would treat him decently, but there was no way she would endanger her reputation in the small community she called home, and as a widow, even allowing him to stay in her house had skirted dangerously close to the edge of doing just that. He was free, obviously, to dream of more, but there was never going to be more between them. He would only be setting himself up for heartache.

He was a Hunter, and she had paid him for the time he had stayed up there, hunting his wolf.

That was it.

Taking a deep breath, he crawled into his sleeping bag, pulling his blanket around his shoulders, and tried to force himself to sleep.

The night seemed colder than before.

.-.

Carol had watched them separate as the sun was setting, Rick disappearing into the forest by the roadside, Daryl continuing on his bike alone, as usual. When the truck she had been riding in passed Daryl as he was setting up his camp, she asked the driver to stop and let her off at the next village which, fortunately, was already ahead of them. She thanked him politely, handed him the sum they had agreed on as her fare, and once he was out of sight, she shouldered her bundle and headed back the way she had come - back toward his camp.

Two days before, with the nights getting warmer, she had decided to forego the inns and instead camp out in the open, just like he did. It would allow her to keep a closer watch on him and come to his help if the wolf should be in the area and decide to attack him while he was alone, with Rick roaming the forest.

Careful to stay far enough away from him, she set up her own camp, complete with a small fire to cook some of the beans she had brought on the trip. She kept looking up to make sure he was staying put and his camp remained undisturbed. She had finished her meal by the time she saw him slide down from where he'd been leaning against the bike to get some sleep.

Suddenly, there was a rustling noise behind her, and her heart jumped into her throat. Grabbing her silver knife, she whirled around, ready to face the black wolf and keep it occupied until Daryl could reach her. But the wolf facing her didn't come for her throat. It just stood there, growling, and she finally noticed that its coat was gray-brown instead of black and it had a healing bite wound on its shoulder.

Rick had found her.

.-.

Daryl woke with his heart in his throat, well aware from this fact alone that something or someone was out there and he had to remain quiet or give himself away. He felt clammy and cold which meant that he was already covered in dew, so morning couldn't be too far off. The sky was turning dusky toward the east, and he could already make out details on his bike, and see the trees on the other side of the small brook where he had filled his flask for dinner. Lying motionless, he saw nothing that would have warranted the intense fear flooding him that still had his heart hammering.

He strained his ears for any sound other than the mumbling of the water nearby and the birds slowly waking up to the dawning day. In the distance he could hear a wheezy bus or truck rumbling by on the road.

And then he heard it.

He was absolutely certain that this was the sound that had woken him. The sound of a foot, a leg, moving through the knee-high grass around him.

Again, closer.

Again, ever closer.

It had to see his bike any second now.

Moving as quietly as possible, he snaked his right arm out of his sleeping bag and grabbed his crossbow while reaching for the knife at his hip with his left, inside his sleeping bag and blanket. Using his fingertips only to minimize noise, he opened the small clasp securing the knife in place and gently slid it out, careful not to let the blade touch the sheath as this would produce an audible metallic sound.

He inhaled silently, trying to slow down his breathing.

With no doubt whatsoever about what he was going to see, he sat up abruptly, his knife slicing through his sleeping bag and blanket as his left hand went out behind him for support while he raised the bow with his right.

He barely had time to register the glowing eyes in the semi-darkness, and the outline of a huge head with bared teeth, and the massive shoulders, a shadow growing out of the night. Shane jumped on top of him instantly.

.-.

Rick howled once before running off into the charcoal gray morning, and Carol jerked awake and sat up to look after him. When she realized that he wasn't hunting but reacting to something, and that he was rushing off in the direction of Daryl's camp with no intention of coming back, she was jolted into action. Freeing herself from her bedding, she grasped her knife and came to her feet without ever noticing the small aches that came with sleeping on the ground.

Running after Rick, she could now make out the sounds of fighting - the low growl of the attacking wolf, Daryl's panting and groaning as he warded it off and fought to move his knife into position, and the sounds of the two combatants rolling through the dewy grass.

Next, Rick produced a yipping sound as he joined the melee, briefly distracting the black wolf that Daryl was struggling with. The three of them continued rolling through the grass, all of them getting torn up either by Shane's or Rick's claws as the fight continued. Grunting, Daryl managed to free his left hand for a moment and swung his knife at Shane, but the huge wolf skipped to the side with Daryl still holding on to him with his right hand, thus taking Daryl's other arm with it so he ended up slicing into his own forearm.

She noticed the crossbow lying on the ground between the three of them and the bike and briefly considered picking it up and using it herself, but realized it would be a wasted effort. She'd only be able to shoot once, and that only if he hadn't already used the bolt that was always nocked and ready while he was carrying the weapon. If he had already fired it, she would have lost precious time.

So she decided to use her knife instead as she had planned to all along, which could do the job just as well as his silver-tipped bolts could. Apparently, Shane hadn't noticed her yet, and she attempted to sneak up on the knot of men fighting on the ground and rolling back and forth.

Rick gave a pained yowl when Shane snapped at his wounded shoulder, pulling back to get safely away from his former friend's fangs, and this opened up enough room for Carol to swoop in with her silver knife, embedding it deep in the wolf's side as she stared into Daryl's wide eyes looking up at her in shock.

Growling, Shane threw himself about to face Carol and jump her, completely ignoring Daryl and Rick now, and Daryl was up on his knees in an instant, grabbing his bow from the ground and aiming it at the fierce creature. Making sure that the bolt would not even get close to Carol at the angle he was coming from, he fired it, tossed the weapon aside and threw himself at the wolf again, jumping it from behind.

The bolt hit Shane's torso just below his ribs, and the huge black wolf started panting at once, blood welling from the wound. It looked dark and rich in the light of early dawn, its beauty distracting as Rick barreled into the wolf's injured side, his momentum carrying it off Carol and out of Daryl's path.

Daryl stared at Carol with a wild look in his eyes, reassuring himself that she hadn't been seriously harmed by Shane's attack, and then went in again. Rick and Shane were rolling on the ground, each desperately trying to get on top of the other and in position for a deadly bite on the neck, but Rick had the advantage now with Shane bleeding from both a knife wound and a bolt injury obviously compromising his lungs.

And then Carol struck out again with her knife that Daryl was seeing for the first time, a knife shining as brightly in the fresh light of day as the tips of his bolts, and the blade sank deeply into the chest of the black wolf, going straight for its heart.

It kept struggling against Rick's weight for another few seconds and then stilled, its blood pooling on the damp earth, soaking Carol and Daryl's clothes and Rick's fur.

Daryl stared into the huge beast's hate-filled eyes as the light of life left them.

The beast he'd been hunting for years was dead.

His Hunt was over.