A/N: I feel the love dear fans and followers and reviewers! Thanks for joining me on this alternate journey. It has been much so fun thus far and it has been a giddy pleasure imagining what Daryl's offspring would be like. Keep the feedback and ideas comin' folks!

Bowen crouched next to the deer his father had felled to pull the arrows out. Jamison stood next to him, a junior crossbow strapped on his back. Daryl had been unable to locate more than one in his runs, so the boys shared it.

Daryl was several paces behind them, bending over to reload his crossbow, with Greyson waiting at his side, a pack slung over his shoulder.

A walker burst through the brush nearby followed by another one, startling Bowen and Jamison.

Daryl looked up to see Jamison plow into the legs of the first walker to knock him down while Bowen scrambled to his feet.

Dropping his crossbow, Daryl ran toward them and drove his knife into the second walker's skull before pouncing on the first walker and striking a deadly blow to its head with his boot.

"Watch out!" Greyson yelled when three more walkers appeared in the distance. He tried to drag his father's crossbow toward them.

Daryl was damned if he was going to let some filthy, disease-bearing motherf***ers attack his kids or gnaw on his deer.

He grabbed his crossbow from Greyson and pushed the boy behind him.

Jamison swung up his crossbow and aimed, striking one of the walkers between the eyes. Bowen guarded his brother while he reloaded, his knife out and his eyes narrowed.

Daryl struck another walker in the temple with an arrow, causing it fall in the path of the last walker, which stumbled and tripped face first. Bowen rushed it and slammed his knife into the base of its skull as its hands grabbed at him. Daryl kicked it in the head for good measure.

"Ya fellas okay?" Daryl asked, eyeing his sons. Bowen and Jamison had walker guts splattered on their clothes which he knew was going to drive Carol crazy. Greyson stood next to the deer biting his lower lip. They all nodded.

"Let's get this buck back to ya mama then," he said.

Daryl deliberately herded his sons into the showers before he delivered the deer to his wife. She didn't need to see them all disheveled and covered in walker blood.

But she knew the instant he walked in despite his best efforts to be casual.

Carol smiled when she saw him but it faded when she noticed his three shadows were not flanking him.

"I'm guessing no one was hurt?" she stated when he reached her. He shook his head.

"They're fine. I wanted 'em to wash up first," Daryl said, trying to keep his expression neutral.

Again, his wife knew him almost better than himself and she wasn't about to let the details slide.

"You going to tell me what happened or do I have to ask them?" Carol asked, crossing her arms. Daryl sighed.

"We killed five walkers out in the woods," he answered. "I had just shot this buck when they came at us. Nobody got injured. The boys did exactly what we taught 'em to do."

Carol searched his face for any sign of omission and found none. She implicitly trusted him to care and protect her and their children but she knew he sometimes didn't share everything in order to shield her from sharing in the hurt.

"I promise, woman, we're all fine," Daryl softly said, wanting to draw her to him but not wanting to get her grimy, so he settled for lightly running his knuckles across her cheekbone.

His hair still wet, a barefooted Jamison streaked through the common area toward where his mother was cooking venison stew for the group.

"I shot a walker between the eyes, Mama!" he proudly announced. Carol looked down at her son and gave him a tight smile.

"You did?" she asked. He nodded and demonstrated with gestures how he did it.

Bowen, who at least had put his shoes on, came alongside his brother and nodded in agreement.

"He knocked one down, too, so Dad could stomp it," Bowen added.

Jamison put an arm around his brother's shoulder and beamed at his mother.

"One tripped and Bowen stabbed it in the head with his knife," Jamison said.

"I see," Carol said, trying to tamper down her feelings of apprehension.

She and Daryl had put an emphasis on teaching the triplets to protect themselves and their family. It never crossed her mind they would view the killings as accomplishments.

"I'm glad you boys were able to protect each other and your father," she praised them, lifting her eyes to look at a freshly showered Daryl, who entered the area carrying a barefooted Greyson on his hip.

Greyson was awake but had his head resting on his father's shoulder, his forehead pressed to his father's neck so he could still see what was going on. Of the three, he was most tenderhearted, and while he had the same skills as his brothers, he only reacted out of necessity, not sport.

Daryl wandered toward his family.

"Why don't we let ya mama finish cookin' and come back in a bit," Daryl said to the boys while looking straight at Carol.

"Yes, sir," Jamison and Bowen said in unison, each hugging one of their mother's legs before racing back to their cell.

Carol laid a hand on Greyson's back and he smiled at his mother. Daryl leaned in and kissed her with enough intensity it left her breathless. When he pulled back, his eyes promised there was more to come later.

"See ya afterwhile," he gravelly said, leaving her there with her fingers on her lips and a flutter in her stomach.