Eventually the light of the sun began to brighten our surroundings and everything became much easier to see. This is another one of those trade off things that I can't quite decide on. It's good, but also bad. The more it lights up, the easier I can see, but we're also easier to see.
I came this close to slicing my finger open during my carving, thankfully that didn't happen but I accidentally snapped all my hard work in half.
Blowing air out my mouth, I chuckled and tossed the rest of it into a fire. It wasn't that nice anyway.
I finally put out the fire, kicking dirt over it with my boots. Although it was never more than warm sticks to be honest.
A few twigs snapped here and there while I struggle to fight off boredom but it never panned out to be anything more dangerous than a woodchuck.
Some of these creatures are very lucky that it's me keeping watch and not Daryl, or they wouldn't be furry, they'd be curry.
Huh...I wonder if squirrel curry would make them taste better. Is squirrel curry even possible? Come to think of it...I don't know anyone who knows how to make curry. Especially not now. Unless someone back at camp is keeping tasty little secrets.
Seriously though, out of everyone among us -including the few mother's we've got back at camp- I can't believe there's no one with culinary skill.
Carol probably comes closest but maybe it's just cause she's a good mom.
"Ugmm"
My knives raised in less than a second but were sliding back into my sheath a second later.
He's up sooner than I expected. It's only been a few hours. At most.
Either that or I've been completely zoning out, which isn't good no matter how you look at it, but I doubt it because I did notice all the small insignificant noises that could have been the end of our lives.
But alas, here we are about to begin our hunt for the elusive immortal deer once again.
Unfortunately, this time it's on an empty stomach.
We've been tracking this deer for a good three hours into the daylight. I cannot for the life of me, figure out how it's still going. Daryl's shot it like three times and—
"Ahhhh!"
I looked at Daryl and he was already staring back.
Simultaneously, we broke into a run, towards the scream.
As we got closer, our pace slowed to where we wouldn't be noticed, just in case.
It took a few minutes but we came around a mound of rock and unfortunately I didn't notice Daryl shortstop until I walked into his back. My nose slamming into the back of his cinderblock of a skull.
Jesus— Mary and Joseph. What the Hell are you made of, rocks!?
Grabbing my now throbbing nose, my cold fingers somewhat soothed the ache but nowhere near how much I would've liked.
Begrudgingly, I peeked around him. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see, but it wasn't this.
I stared at most of the men from our group, all of which looked quite startled. That's another look I'm accustomed to, but not usually when I'm accompanied by another person. Least of all a Dixon.
"Son of a bitch. That's my deer." Daryl stomped closer, clearing my line of sight to see the cause of his sudden mood swing.
I rubbed my eyes incredulously, an exhausted sigh escaping my lips.
Damnit. I was looking forward to not having to eat squirrel.
I followed Daryl over to the remains of what was supposed to be the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.
Huffing, I blew my hair out of my face, before catching sight of someone I didn't recognize.
He's sort of got that same vibe as Shane. Almost the same look about him too.
The way he carries himself, how he's looking around, even the way he stands is similar. Weird...
Deja vu?
I didn't realize Daryl had been ranting until he started kicking the corpse of a decapitated walker I had failed to notice on the other side of the deer.
At least I hope that's a walker. If not, we're in deeper shit than I thought.
Seriously, we're gone for what? One day and they go off and get into the worst sort of trouble they can, without dying? What sort of logic is this?
"Calm down son, that's not helping." Dale attempted to calm the enraged hunter. But frankly, I'm pretty pissed too. I came this close to not having to hold my breath while I swallow my dinner whole.
"What do you know about it old man?"
Here we go
"Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'"
I stopped listening after that. I'm more interested in the walker head on the ground. Besides, it's not like I haven't heard a Dixon go off at someone before. Honestly, I'm surprised Merle isn't joining in.
Where is Merle? I don't see him, and his grating voice is hard to miss.
There's no way he'd miss out on a walker in camp.
Crouching down beside the head, I searched for the killing blow but I couldn't find anything. Reaching out, I poked it with my finger and it didn't move, so they must've killed it.
Internal brain hemorrhage? I don't know if walker's are susceptible to that though.
They move but does the blood still circulate?
I poked it in the forehead again and the eyes opened.
Startled, I fell backwards onto my ass and accidentally kicked it away with my boot, making it spin as it rolled in the dirt. It didn't go far but it was enough to make several others jump back.
"Come on, people. What the Hell?" Daryl raised his crossbow and put a bolt through its eye socket.
Stepping over the body and putting his shoe against the head, he pulled the bolt out with a gross 'slick'.
For a second I expected him to wipe the blood off on his pants but I guess not even a hunter who will skin any kill with his bare hands, will get that nasty congealed slime on him.
"It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothin?"
He offered me his hand and I took him up on it, getting to my feet. I nodded gratefully, brushing the dirt off my ass.
"Next time don't touch it" Daryl scolded me. I nodded, glancing at the body with a little morbid curiosity. I still don't get why I'm the only one who's curious about 'em.
It's not a moral compass thing either, there are plenty of people in this group whose "compass" has a magnet stuck to the bottom. Assuming they haven't lost the damn thing already.
Everyone began to leave, following Daryl and I turned, falling into step next to the new face.
He looked at me and I stared back at him.
"Rick" he held out his hand.
I shook his hand with a friendly smile. Something about this guy just screams 'I know what to do' if that makes sense.
Even though I've never met him before; he kinda reminds me of Glenn in that regard.
"That's Evelyn, but she prefers Eve." Dale spoke from behind us.
"She doesn't say much. Maybe you'll get to hear her voice someday."
I gave them a quick smile and moved to catch up with Shane and Daryl near the front.
I could use some water, I'm parched and if we've got something that isn't squirrel that would be fantastic.
"Merle! Merle! Get your ugly ass out here. Got us some squirrel. Let's stew 'em up." Daryl called. I almost gagged at the mention of the furry little creatures. At least in stew they don't taste all that terrible.
"Hey Daryl. Why don't you slow up a bit…" Shane called after him. "I need to talk to you."
Ahhh, shit spackle. We cannot catch a break. Would it have killed you to wait 'till I've eaten something?
"About what?" Daryl glanced at me as if I'd know what Shane's talking about.
"About Merle." Shane squared off his posture
Ugh, of course...what's he done now?
"There was a problem in Atlanta."
My heart dropped into to my stomach, all desire for food fading to the furthest reaches of my mind.
Daryl stiffened and glanced around. I guess this answers why Merle wasn't the first in line to take a whack at that walker.
"He dead?" Daryl shifted; preparing for the worst, no doubt.
"We're not sure." Shane glanced to the side.
"Either he is or he ain't." Daryl spat, impatiently.
"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." Rick walked past me towards Daryl.
"Who're you?" Daryl spoke spitefully.
"Rick Grimes" Rick stopped several feet from Daryl. Grimes? As in Lori and Carl Grimes?
"Rick Grimes…You got something you wanna tell me?" This isn't gonna end well.
My stomach gurgled and for a moment, I had the urge to growl back. In most any other situation, I probably would have.
I walked over to Glenn and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped, relaxing when he saw me. He pulled the small bag from his pocket and my lip quirked up for half a second as I took it from him.
"Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him to a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal…He's still there." Rick informed rather bluntly.
Wait…what?
They left him?
Daryl paced quickly but he looks like he's about to flip his lid.
"Let me process this." he smacked his lips "You sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a roof…and you left him there!?" Daryl's rage escalated right alongside his voice.
"Yeah…" Rick drew out his response, looking down guiltily.
I opened the bag of cookies I asked Glenn for, looking at them. Yes, they're still good.
When I looked back up, I narrowly dodged the flying bunch of squirrels comin' at me.
Shane knocked Daryl to the ground and it only gave the hunter the opportunity to pull his knife.
Daryl went for Rick, and Shane wasted no time in grabbing him. Rick and Shane moved like they were a team, without saying anything. Almost as if they've done this before.
What the Hell happened in the day we were gone?
I nudged Glenn with my elbow and pointed to them with a questioning look.
He nodded, "Rick and Shane are old friends. They were partners before." I nodded in understanding, with an 'oh' look. That makes a lot more sense.
"You best let me go!" Daryl yelled.
"Nah I think it's better if I don't" Shane got him to the ground in a choke hold and I stopped paying attention, as my stomach was demanding nutrition, on threat of digesting my liver.
I tuned back in as Shane actually let him go.
"What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others." Isn't that the understatement of the year.
"It wasn't Rick's fault." T-Dog spoke up. "I had the key...I dropped it."
"Couldn't pick it up?" Daryl spat, still angry but he looks too worn out to really fight anymore.
I don't blame him, neither of us have eaten or drunk anything since yesterday.
Why do I feel guilty? I wasn't even on that run— Hell I only vaguely know what's happened.
"Well I dropped it in a drain." T-Dog replied.
Daryl bitterly scoffed and tiredly got up.
"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't." He threw a handful of dirt at T-Dog's feet.
"Well maybe this will. Look I chained the door to the roof, so the geeks couldn't get at him. With a padlock." Dang. Not a lot of people can admit stuff like that. Kudos, T-Dog.
Daryl rubbed his eyes. I knew he didn't sleep long. He looks tired as Hell.
"To Hell with all y'all!" he yelled, running out of steam.
"Just tell me where he is, sos I can go get 'im." Daryl demanded.
I never realized before how much energy it takes to have that Dixon attitude.
Honestly, I'm not really sure if I should've gotten involved or not. I mean, Daryl is the closest thing I have to a friend in this group— besides Glenn. Glenn's more like a kid-brother to me though, and everyone else gets really annoying but now I'm sort of glad I didn't.
I don't wanna become the villain for someone else's mistakes unless I need to.
"He'll show you." Everyone looked at Lori. "Isn't that right?" she stared at Rick, expectantly.
I've missed something, haven't I?
"I'm going back." Rick stated. Yeah, I missed something.
Daryl walked away without giving any indication of an answer and everyone kinda shrunk back to what they were doing before.
I'm torn between going after him and giving him space.
I'll go with the latter, for now. Track him down and keep an eye on him, if he doesn't come back soon.
He shouldn't be too difficult to track when he's this steamed. I'm sure I can manage.