Before she could toss the gun Spencer gave her into the trash, Daryl took it and shoved it into his waistband. He would rather she held onto the gun. If anything happened, he wanted Rowan to be able to protect herself.

"Could teach ya how to shoot," Daryl offered. Rowan raised one eyebrow, looking at him like he had offered to piss on her instead of to teach her a valuable survival skill.

"Guns were invented by boys who never got over their disappointment that accompanying their orgasms there wasn't a big BOOM sound," Rowan said, holding her hands up in the air and shaking them when she said the word boom. She had a playful smile on her face. All her life she had been told about how horrible guns were. If Daryl wanted to argue with her, she could go all day. Her father had taken her hunting when she was younger, but only with a hunting rifle or his long bow. Never with a handgun. She had never even seen one of those until after the turn. The only reason to have one of those was to kill a person, and she had no intention of killing anyone. If a bad person came, she would just run away from them.

"Being a smart ass ain't goin' to keep ya from gettin' shot," Daryl informed her. She still had a little smirk on her face, which meant she probably had plenty more smart ass remarks where the last one had come from. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close, kissing her on the mouth. The best part about kissing Rowan was the way she immediately yeilded to him, her lips parting as her arms went up around his neck. There was no games with her, and she made it no secret how she felt about him or how much she desired him. Her attitude towards sex was refreshing. She enjoyed having it, but sex was just another normal part of everyday life to her. Daryl's past experiences had been that once a girl had sex with him, she would usually act like he owed her something for it. He didn't get that vibe from Rowan. If anything, the give and take happened during the act itself not after it was over.

Tank let out a growl, his lips curling up to show his teeth. Daryl let go of Rowan, stepping in front of her and pulling his bow off his shoulder. There were two walkers coming their way, but they were old and slow. He shot the first one through the head with an arrow, dropping it. At Rowan's command, Tank took down the second one, holding it down until Daryl walked over and stabbed it in the eye.

"See," Rowan remarked, "we don't need the guns."

"The guns ain't for the dead," Daryl told her, "they're for the living."

"No one is going to shoot me," Rowan informed him confidently. People had tried to do other things to her. But no one had ever tried to kill her. Daryl looked at the bruises on her face and wrist, taking her hand in his and running his fingers over the markings in the back of it.

"No," he said, "but they might shoot Tank and make ya go with them." He didn't want to upset her, but he did want to make her understand where he was coming from. She looked at her dog, her bottom lip already starting to quiver at the thought of someone hurting the animal. Daryl swung the bow back onto his back and put his other hand under her chin, lifting up her sinking head. "You don't have to learn today," he said, "how 'bout ya just think on it a while."

"Okay," she said with a little nod of her head. She could think about it. All the things her mother and the elders had told her about guns had been true. But the world had been a different place then. If they had guns, maybe they might have been able to fight off the dead. Maybe her mother would still be alive. Maybe and maybe and maybe. So many maybes it made her head hurt.

"Let's go," Daryl said, taking her hand in his and heading in the direction of the lake. He had brought her out here for a reason. And he didn't want to waste the day arguing about guns. She would either learn or she wouldn't. He reminded himself again that Rowan made it this long without a gun. She could make it a while longer. This was not an emergency.

Rowan's hand closed around his, their fingers intertwined. They walked down the narrow path to the lake, Tank charging off to investigate any interesting smells and then appearing further down the path or dashing out right in front of them. When they got to the water, Tank charged in. He spashed around, barking and snapping at the shallow waves.

"You want to swim?," Rowan asked Daryl.

"Maybe later," he said, "got somethin' to show ya, remember?" She nodded and let him lead her around the edge of the water. They followed the lakeshore around, walking for what felt like a long way. Whatever Daryl wanted to show her, he was getting more and more excited about it. The aura around him was getting brighter and more colorful. It made Rowan curious about where they were going. She came down to the lake often, but never walked all the way around it. And she didn't swim over on the more shallow side they were walking towards because it was more marshy. Marshy water meant snakes and snapping turtles, two animals she had no desire to have an encounter with.

They headed into the woods, the vegetation getting thicker and harder to navigate through. Rowan ducked under a low branch, keeping close to Daryl. There was a clearing in the woods ahead of them and she had a feeling they were getting close to wherever he was taking her. Tank dashed around her, running towards a small cabin that she could now see through the trees. Daryl pushed through a bush, holding part of it back with his body so Rowan could get by without catching her pants or scratching up her legs on the spiny branches.

The cabin was small and it looked like it had been well loved before it was abandoned. There was moss growing on the roof below where the round metal chimney was sticking out. Most of the windows were boarded over, which meant whoever had lived there had survived long enough into the turn to set up defenses. A small creek that fed down into the lake ran across the front, and there was a little wooden bridge they had to cross over to get to the front door.

"Found this place while I was huntin', the day after we got here," Daryl told her. He opened the door, which was shut but not locked. Rowan followed him inside, while Tank ran around the outside of the place sniffing at the walls. The chimney came down and attached to a metal stove that was set up to double as a heater and a stove for cooking. Some animals had clearly made their way inside the place and entertained themselves by ripping up some of the previous owner's belongings. And the bed was bare, with a large dark spot near the top that looked like dried blood. But the place had potential, it wouldn't be hard to fix up. All the windows were still intact and the roof looked solid.

"Nice place," Rowan said. Daryl looked at her, his immediate response was to assume that she was making fun of him. Then he remembered who he was with. Rowan was looking around like she really was impressed with the place despite the mess on the floor and the stain on the bed.

"Only me and you know this place is here," Daryl said, "If anything happens again, like the shit yesterday with Tank, you leave and wait for me out here." Rowan felt like his words hit her right in the chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She had thought they were just coming out here to goof around. That he had found a neat place and wanted to show it to her. She had no idea that he meant for it to be a safe place for her in case she had to get out of Alexandria.

Rowan had taken her first lover when she was a teenager. And that one, along with every one after, had been more than willing to profess their undying love for her almost before the act was even finished. One man had written songs and poems for her. That young sioux man that she almost married had written her passionate love letters even after she had broken things off with him and gone home to her mother. But Daryl's simple act of bringing her here to the cabin he found touched her in a way that none of that ever had before. She wasn't sure if she could describe the feeling even if she tried. It was like her love was going to overwhelm her and bust right out of her chest, sending little rays of happiness everywhere.

Daryl watched the different emotions wash over her face. Then she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist and putting her hands up under his shirt, touching the bare skin on his back. He was used to tensing up when people touched his scars, but he found he didn't mind when she did. Rowan had seen and felt his scars many times when she had been rubbing his back or when they had been bathing together in the rain barrel water next to her trailer. She had never said a word about the marks. It almost made him forget they were there.

Daryl hugged her back, not sure where her sudden surge of emotions had come from. Before he could ask, he heard the distinctive sound of Tank's warning bark outside.

** This chapter contained a paraphrased quote from Lorrie Moore. The actual quote is "Guns, she was reminded then, were not for girls. They were for boys. They were invented by boys. They were invented by boys who had never gotten over their disappointment that accompanying their own orgasm there wasn't a big boom sound." Lorrie Moore, Like Life. **