Daryl trudged through overgrown pastures miles from the prison. He had been out in the woods and fields hunting since returning from a run. It was getting late, the sun was sinking fast though the days were getting longer with the return of spring. Daryl located the camouflaged four-wheeler, climbed wearily on it, and started the noisy engine up. Daryl was timing his return home so that everyone would be finished eating dinner and he could avoid the group meal. He was returning empty handed but in truth he sought solitary solace more than meat for the table. It wasn't grief over Merle's death, he had dealt with that during the winter. Now Daryl was mourning another loss, one caused by his own meanness. He had finally managed to make Carol angry with him, so angry that she had become cool and distant. It was his fault of course, he was wrong, but Dixon's didn't crawl to women begging forgiveness. Women had to accept them the way they were or get the hell out. And he was a Dixon.
Daryl let the four wheeler run full out on the way home, he liked the feeling of power, it kinda made the empty feeling go away. And tonight's whiskey would help too. Daryl rounded a curve and there was walkers in his way. He was barely able to keep miss the walkers and hold the vehicle onto the path. He scooted around them, feeling the unsteadiness in the four wheeler knowing how easily they turned over. He rode slower after that, recognizing that he could have been walker chow as easily as not.
Rick let him in the gate, and rode back up the hill with him. Daryl just grunted as Rick tried to talk. It was a nice spring evening, and the prison yard was active, kids running around like wild Indians, the corn hole game going strong, and lots of smiles and laughter,
Carol wasn't here, probably finishing cleaning up in the kitchen, he knew her schedule. Daryl slunk by the cheery crowd and went toward his own private cell. He was tired and yes hungry but he wasn't going to go to the dining hall to see if there was any dinner left. Daryl opened the door to his cell and saw that a dinner plate sat on the bedside table. It was covered with a paper napkin and he knew that Carol had recognized that he had missed dinner. She would have made a plate for him with everything that he liked, and then brought it to his room so that he could eat in peace. She was barely speaking to him but still would do that. Damn, she had also left two cold beers. Daryl washed his hands in the basin. He set down at his table, he ate his solitary dinner, drank his beer, and found that he was crying.