I wake fully rested, an irrational feeling of contentment warming my body. The heat of happiness surges through my blood, and I get dressed slowly, reveling in the feeling. After heading to the bathroom to wash my face, I wander to breakfast, blissfully in my own world. It's not until I reach the courtyard that I realize no ones there. My pulse starts to race until a familiar voice calls to me.
"Where were you this morning?" Michonne asks, catching my attention as she heads towards the horse stable carrying a bucket of water. I squint at her, eyes straining against the light.
"What time is it?" I counter, in a daze.
"Nearly ten," she responds promptly. I raise my eyebrows in shock - I'm usually up by seven. Explains why there's no one here. She sees my plain surprise. "Mhmm... Well I put your food over there," she says, pointing to a barrel across the courtyard.
"Thanks. I can't believe I slept that long.. I guess it was just a long night." I head towards my plate and Michonne joins me suspiciously.
"Right... A long night..."
"What does that mean?" I mumble through a mouthful of cold scrambled eggs, looking up from my fork.
"I mean, this wouldn't have anything to do with Daryl, would it? He's not up yet either, and you two seemed pretty heated at dinner." She places her hand on her hip in a cocky manner, jutting out her chin as she studies me. "And I happened to hear two certain individuals sneaking back into the prison in the middle of the night. Lucky for you two I saw your faces before I rammed my katana into your skulls," she says matter-of-factly, as if she saved us from a terrible fate. I grimace, continuing to eat. Damn Michonne. She never misses anything.
"That wasn't even anything." Michonne snorts incredulously.
"Don't downplay it! You two have spent the last two months attached at the hip - it's about time you hooked up." I nearly choke on my food, grabbing my water and chugging it down.
"Hooked up?!" I whisper furiously, aware the courtyard isn't completely empty. "No, no, not at all! I just had a bad dream and went to the range. He followed me to apologize for earlier; I was legitimately mad at him at dinner. Besides, he doesn't like me like that," I mumble embarrassedly.
"Really? That's it? Ugh that's so much more boring. And you're soooo wrong. He obviously has eyes for you; he's constantly watching you and he's always excited to hang out with you. Do you see him do that for anyone else? Look, Daryl is a good guy. He used to be a racist, old fashioned, redneck, I'm-better-and-tougher-than-you asshole, but he's really evolved. Trust me, you two are perfect for each other. You're the first one he can really relate to." I read her features, looking for a sign she's playing with me, but she seems up front. I nod slightly, and flush, embarrassed.
"Really?"
"Mhmm. And you're the only girl tough enough to take him on and put up with his bullshit. Now get a move on - you have class in thirty."
"Oh yeah!" I shove the last bites of food in my mouth and take off for my room, hurrying to get ready. Once there, I pull on my trusty jacket, grab my bow and quiver, and brush my teeth. I head past Daryl's room when I remember what Michonne said about him missing breakfast. Cautiously, I poke my head through a gap between the door and frame where he's left it open.
"Don't just barge in here!" He snaps at me, looking up from the knife he's polishing. I jump in surprise, offended until I see his joking expression. "Don't you know this is a man's room? I could be doing, manly things," he says, mocking some of my first words to him during my first week here. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over the shining steel of his hunting knife.
"Ha ha," I say, stepping in and dropping my bow at the door. I turn to push the door against the frame without shutting it. I walk over to the bed and plop down next to him, uninvited. He mumbles something about lack of respect for personal space, but I ignore him.
"Heard you missed breakfast," I say. He goes back to polishing his knife meticulously.
"Yeah. Couldn't sleep much after you woke me up, and couldn't wake up once I did." I notice his shoulders tense but I'm not sure why.
"You hungry?"
"Not really. I will be later, but I can wait till lunch."
"What are you doing till then?" He glances over at me.
"Polishin' my knife. Probably tell Rick I'm healthy for a run, but he'll say no. He's wantin' a go from you, ya know," he says, glaring at me with his demanding, icy blue eyes. I ignore his accusation.
"Wanna help me teach my class? I'm gonna go over what to do when there are multiple walkers." He looks at me, intrigued.
"Hell yeah. Bout time I've done somethin' 'round here. Sick of bein' babied like a little bitch." I jump up.
"Alright, let's go! Or do you need help getting ready?" I ask in a baby voice, teasing him. His face flushes angrily, and I snicker, skipping aware from his death glare . He keeps his knife and grabs his crossbow while I get my bow. Ready to teach, we head down stairs and back out to the range.
"We should just move out here," I mutter as we approach my class, a flirty edge creeping into my tone. Daryl's eyes flit over to mine with a questioning look.
"Any time," he says playfully, and now it's my turn to be confused. But before I can ask, we reach the students. I greet everyone while we wait for two more, and then we're ready. There are twelve people I teach; eight guys and four girls. I'm annoyed that there aren't more girls wanting to learn, I mean, seriously? We're in the freaking apocalypse. But oh well. I'll take what I can get.
"Who remembers how to take down a single walker?" I ask loudly, starting off while the others are still shooting admiring looks at Daryl, who ignores them.
"Dodge and dart," Carter, a twenty two year old former computer programmer says instantly. I smirk. I knew Carter would answer; he always remembers the facts. I nod.
"Right. Daryl, stand there," I order moving him over to a space next to the group. They look at me with something approaching awe, but I just raise my knife, taking note of it for later.
"Walkers aren't very fast. And they aren't smart. They come straight at you to rip you apart; no tricks, no tactics, nothing. So, dodge, and dart. Daryl, come after me but at walker speed."
"You jokin', right? I ain't bein' a walker." My eyebrows turn up and I open my eyes wide, putting on the best pleading face I can manage.
"Fine," he growls angrily, spitting on the ground before striding towards me. I slip out my knife and look at him with total concentration, a smirk coming over my face. I feel adrenaline surge through me, something most people don't feel during sparring. But I'm not most people; fighting gives me power and control. I feel safest in a fight because I can dictate what's happening to me.
I dodge Daryl's outspread arms, moving agilely and sharply. Now behind him, I rush towards him. I grab his head before he fully turns, and thrust my knife up until the tip rests against his hair.
"Dodge their attack, and then, when there's a gap, dart in for the kill. No risks, play it safe," I say, not forgetting that I'm teaching a class and not just messing around. I step back from Daryl and face the group.
"You don't need to practice that; we've done it the last few times. However, I do have something new." I smile my full, megawatt smile. "Today we're learning how to handle group walkers. I'm talking three to five at once, within ten yards. What's the most anyone here has faced at close range?"
Several guys raise their hands, as well as one of my girls, a fourteen year old named Sarah. I nod and point to her with my knife.
"I took on four with my hatchet and baseball bat. They were all coming from the front," she says, face twisting as she moves her arms to demonstrate the scene. "I hit the first three with the bat and hit the last with the hatchet. Then two of the others got up, so I hit them both with the hatchet." I nod approvingly.
"Good. Trevor? Q? You guys beat that?" The two boys shake their heads, Trevor impressed by Sarah, Q annoyed he was beaten.
"Sarah, I really like your example because you did something really important for group attacks; distraction. You bought your self time by hitting the first three with the bat. That was fast and easy, and even though it didn't keep them down, it bought you more time to deal with them. That's the most important thing. But you aren't limited to head hits." I turn to Daryl and bend my knees in a ready stance.
"If Daryl comes at me, I can kick him in the chest and knock him down," I say, demonstrating a karate-like power kick. "Or try a flip, though that requires more technique and he has to get closer to me," I say, flipping him over my shoulder in a Krav Maga style takedown. I don't actually flip him though; I halt the power of my flip and let him regain his balance. "Then I can deal with the others. Another key thing to remember: never let them circle you. If you have four or five at once, make sure you have a way out. If your way out is kicking one over and high tailing it over his body, that's okay, but kinda last ditch. Keep your options open."
Over the next hour, we take turns playing walker or survivor in small groups, using sticks as knives or other melee weapons. I give them scenarios they have to work out of, give them tips, and constantly reiterate buying time.
"Save the slowest walker for last. If you can kill three before one with a broken leg even reaches you; it just makes sense do to it. In fact, break their legs if you can't break their skulls. Incapacitating the biters is really important."
By the time we're done, we're each sweating and panting satisfactorily. Daryl is just excited to have something to do, and I ride out my adrenaline rush, feeling it ebbing as I bring the class to a close. I set the next time for a week from now, and we all go our separate ways, some still talking about their new fighting techniques.
"They're really enthusiastic," Daryl notes, approaching me from behind. I spin around.
"Yeah, that's what I like. They all want to learn, and it's important they do. We'll have to focus on distractions for a few more sessions, though."
"You're enthusiastic, too," he says, catching me by surprise with his intense look. I shrug.
"I like to fight. Gives me control."
"You talk like you ain't had much of that." I shrug again, this time careful to look casual.
"Not with my brother and father like they were. Not with my old group either. But I've had control for the last ten months."
"I hate hearing those things. A woman like you shouldn't be subject to abuse from your family. From your friends." He closes his eyes as if in pain, and I widen mine in shock.
"Do you not want me to tell you this stuff?"
"Course I do," he scoffs. "Just makes me mad that some men can hurt a woman like that. Not how you're supposed to treat 'em." I flash my huge, genuine smile, pleased with his concern and compassion. I knew he's a good man! He breathe slightly hitches, so quiet I'm not sure I hear it, and his eyes adopt a hesitant look.
He brings his arm up in a slow ark, an awkward, testing movement. I look at it suspiciously and gulp, freezing stock still. He lays his hand on my shoulder, a surprisingly intimate movement. Then, he spins and walks towards the prison. I watch him, heart racing, before I exhale a pent up breath. Then, I laugh.
Its exactly like last night, except this time I'm the one left following. Ironic.