Again, thanks for reading and reviewing. I could have spent another week on vacation - there was something wonderfully soothing about being in a place without internet or cellular access. Still, it's nice to be back! Enjoy!

Daisy trudged through the forest for what felt to her like many long and relentless hours. As she trekked through dirt and dead leaves, the spaces in between trees serving as the only means of a path, she flew through a gamut of heavy emotions. She sobbed uncontrollably, first seeing Thornton, bloodied and lifeless, and then Cap, angry and unforgiving. Sometimes she would imagine them together, standing high above her as if she had been sunk down into a grave. They would pass judgment on her faults and leave her there to rot.

Then the anger would roll over Daisy like a wave, and she would be doused in her aggravation. The tears on her cheeks would dry away instantly, as if they had evaporated off of her hot skin. She would curse a mean streak, employing every foul word she had ever heard from her brothers. She would kick at twigs and scream at the top of her lungs, clawing at herself to be free of the confines of her person. If only she could tear through the outer layer of Daisy McCoy, she could again walk free in the world. None would know of her crimes; they would only see the golden goodness that hid within.

In thoughts such as those, the smallest bit of insanity would worm its way into Daisy, and she would start to laugh maniacally. She was still a young girl, a simple and loving girl who had killed a man and knew not what to do with the vestiges of her wrongdoing. So she laughed, and she cried, and she yelled, and she fell to the ground on more than one occasion, barely catching her fall. She would land in the dirt with a heavy thud, her knees bruised and bloody, her face full of raw, red scratches from stray branches.

X X X

As the sun hung high in the cloudless sky, announcing the proximity of noon, Daisy flung herself onto a cool and flat stone hidden under some low-hanging branches. Her eyes were bloodshot, wrung dry of all of her tears, and her voice was hoarse from her howls. She looked about her at the endless trees, trying to lasso in her rationality. Where do I go?, she wondered to herself. What do I do? The doubts fogged her brain, easily extinguishing any attempt at necessity. Daisy began to convince herself that she was meant to die in the woods, her body given over to the plants and animals in repayment for Thornton's life. She knew he was a bad man, but she wasn't sure that he was meant to die, especially not at her own hand.

The bushes began to rustle across from where Daisy sat, sending her up and off of the rock in a panic. She stilled herself, rapidly considering the possibilities in her mind. Maybe it was Cap, coming to apologize; maybe it was Calvin, coming to rescue her; maybe it was the law, coming to hang her; maybe it was Thornton, risen from the dead, coming to seek his vengeance. Daisy weighed all of these prospects, waiting for the answer. The birds had not quieted, the breeze had not stalled, and Daisy comprehended the nature of the threat: animal, not human; something that, unlike her, was meant to be there.

Through the greenery emerged a bear, small at first until it hoisted itself up on its hind legs to survey the area. It was twice the size of Daisy, its small, sharp eyes resting on her. She willed herself to sink away into the foliage, even as she knew that her quest for invisibility was fruitless. She did not move, could not move. Her breath caught in her chest, coming out quick and shallow. Beads of sweat swelled on her forehead and rolled down her spine. For a few long moments, there was nothing in the world save Daisy and the bear. The two stared at one another, neither shifting, neither altering their position.

Suddenly, the bear swelled up its chest and emitted a mighty roar, its teeth deadly and white, each as long as one of Daisy's fingers. She saw the bear's pink tongue working towards the sound and imagined the beast swallowing her in one huge gulp. Daisy thought hard, straining her brain towards any bit of information in her past that would favor her in her present predicament. Had she read a book about bears? Had she heard stories from her brothers? Had her mother warned her of the dangers of such a fearsome creature? There was nothing inside of Daisy save her most primal of instincts, and those instincts were telling her to survive, to make it through this ordeal so that she may face the next. Daisy wanted to live.

From behind the bear came another rustling and Daisy began to pray that it was anyone – Cap, Calvin, her Pa, the sheriff – who could vanquish her foe. Instead, there came the sound of another roar, this one the small and pitiful counterpart to the first. A baby bear emerged from the trees, his tiny paws padding against the ground, and instantly Daisy saw the truth of the situation. The larger bear was a mother, trying to guide her young cub through the perils of the woods. Just as Daisy knew the dangers of bears, bears must have known the dangers of man. Daisy surmised that the mother had not been expecting to encounter a girl like herself, and thus panicked upon their first meeting. Daisy's heart began to soften towards the two animals, who both regarded her coolly, assessing her threat.

"It's OK," Daisy said gently, slowly placing her hands out in front of her to placate the mother. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The mother regarded Daisy for another long moment before falling back onto all fours. The cub was more willing to trust this strange person, becoming easily comfortable in her presence. It began to rummage through some nearby bushes with its small, black nose, leaving Daisy and the mother to work out their dispute. Gingerly, as if in slow motion, Daisy lowered herself back down onto the rock, letting her hands fall to her sides. The mother watched her, and Daisy returned the stare, until both sets of eyes gentled. The mother sent Daisy one last grunt, nosed through the bushes herself, and then turned and disappeared back into the brush, the cub eagerly following.

Daisy remained motionless for a long while after the bears had retreated. She sighed heavily, letting her posture sag. The mother bear had been a knowing facet of the wilderness, one who was able to effortlessly gauge the threat posed by Daisy. Clearly, by instinct alone, she had found Daisy incapable of harm, enough so to trust her young cub in the girl's presence. Daisy ruminated on the implications of the bear's trust and on her own human desire to remain safe against the danger. It was then that Daisy knew that, despite her crimes, despite her flaws, there was something in the world that beckoned her to remain.

X X X

The day fell into darkness as Daisy half walked, half sprinted back through the forest, making her way back to Cap and the place where she had left him.

"Please, please, please," she whispered to her God, chanting the word like an incantation. Daisy was ready to apologize to Cap, to bear the burden of her shame, to do anything that would win him back to her side. She couldn't be independent and strong-willed if she was dead.

Finally, after an exhausting hike, Daisy found the clearing. Cap sat near the creek, his back and head leaning against a tree, his eyes closed. Daisy tiptoed towards him slowly, weighing her options. Before she could decide, he spoke.

"Don't apologize," he said, his eyes still closed. Daisy stilled, her heart racing, her body so worn and used that she thought she may faint on the spot.

"I should," she whispered, and Cap's eyes snapped open. They were not angry or accusing, but sad and resigned. Daisy felt the comfort of his gaze, of that milky eye that held all of his secrets, maybe even one or two of her own.

"I don't need it," Cap said quietly. The two stared at each other in the long and quiet dark, something deep and personal conveyed in the silence.

Slowly, Cap pulled himself to his feet, and Daisy realized that he must have been as bone-tired as she. Though he seemingly hadn't left the clearing all day, there were bags under his eyes, and a whole day's growth of dark stubble covering his jaw. Daisy had been the one to attempt an escape towards freedom, but Cap had lived ten lives in the span of a day, worrying himself near to death over the safety of this girl he barely knew.

"You're hurt," Daisy said suddenly, coming towards him, reaching out her hands to the black and blue, the red and maroon, that Thornton had decorated Cap's face with. Cap pulled away from her touch.

"I'm fine," he said sullenly, and Daisy's hands lowered. She could see that although Cap did not require an apology, he was still somehow hurt by Daisy's words. His pride was as bruised as his face.

"Let's find some shelter," Cap said as he turned to his horse, and Daisy nodded into the night.