They moved more slowly after that, taking extra care to stop every few minutes to listen to the sounds of the forest, eyes and ears tuned to catch anything that didn't belong. Ash was surprisingly at ease, dashing off now and then in pursuit of a rustle in the bushes only to return panting, tail wagging. Strangely, they hadn't seen a walker for hours. The afternoon sun beat down on the canopy overhead, but it was at least ten degrees cooler in the shade beneath it. Still, Beth could feel sweat trickling down the nape of her neck and her cleavage, pooling at her waistband and in the middle of her back where her pack rested. She was thirsty, but she only let herself take a small swig from her canteen as she walked, wanting to conserve it.
Daryl continued tracking, but the trail was getting a little more difficult to read. In several places, he lost it completely and was forced to backtrack to pick it up again. As late afternoon drew on toward evening, he finally called a halt.
"What do ya think?" he asked Beth. "You notice anything?"
She grinned. Back to lessons, are we? She pointed to the ground ahead. "Well, they came through here, for sure. See that pebble that's been forced into the mud there? And the bent weeds between these two trees? But it looks like they might be traveling single file now. Bein' more careful."
He nodded at her, satisfied. "I'm thinkin' they got their dander up when their buddy didn't come back from doggin' the trail." He swiped an arm across his forehead and looked off into the woods, then up at the sky, where the light of day was dwindling away. He pointed away from the trail to the east, where the forest ran for several hundred yards before climbing a small hill. "I have a pretty good idea of where we are. If I'm right, State Road 20 should be a little over that rise there. There's a small crick just the other side of it where we can get some water. I don't wanna blunder into these guys in the dark, so I think we should hunker down over there till morning."
Beth nodded and took another drink from her canteen. She wasn't tired yet, but she could see the wisdom of getting off the trail for the night. Whenever they did meet up with the monsters they were tracking, it would be best to have all their wits about them. Shouldering her pack once again, she jerked her chin in the direction he had indicated. "I'll be right on your heels."
They set up a simple camp in the lee of a large overturned tree. The desiccated roots thrust sideways like a tangle of wooden fingers that had been torn from the soil as the tree fell. The wide trunk sheltered them from the sight of anyone passing by on the road several yards away, and gave them something to lean their backs against as they shared an unexciting dinner of MREs and iodine-treated creek water.
After they'd eaten, Beth checked the wound on Daryl's head where the Hog had coldcocked him. It was clotting well, so she just cleaned it up a bit and replaced the wide bandage with another from their first aid kit. Daryl didn't meet her eyes while she did it. In the last light of day, she could just barely see the blush creeping over his stubbled cheeks. Leaning a friendly shoulder into Daryl's, her voice turned teasing. "So, I've been wondering something. How did that big guy get the drop on you back there? The Daryl Dixon I know woulda heard him comin' a mile away."
Daryl grunted, looked down at the ground, and mumbled something inaudible.
"What was that?" she persisted, sure now that this was a story she wanted to hear.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, the pink in his face becoming more pronounced the more agitated he got. He spoke a little louder. "I said I was… picking some flowers."
Beth stared. Daryl raised his eyes to meet hers. The corner of her mouth twitched. She pressed her lips together. Soon her shoulders were shaking silently. Then she couldn't hold it in anymore. A chuckle escaped. Then another. Soon she was holding her stomach and throwing her head back in real, honest laughter.
"Shhh!" Daryl hissed at her in alarm, looking around them. She clapped both hands over her mouth, nearly vibrating with the effort to get control of herself. This was not the time or place for the giggles. But the more she tried to silence them, the more impossible it became. All the tension, all the emotion of the day poured out of her in wild bursts. Her abdomen started to ache and she was having trouble catching her breath. She removed her hands, but continued to gasp helplessly, like a highly entertained fish flopping on the shore. Even through her laughter, her eyes widened at Daryl in a silent plea for help.
He did the only thing he could think of. Cupping the back of her head with one hand, he pulled her closer with the other and covered her mouth with his in a desperate kiss.
It worked. The moment Daryl's lips made contact, Beth's giggles dried up as if they'd been turned off at the tap. After one frozen second, she threw herself enthusiastically into the kiss. When she was forced to draw back with a gasp to take in some much needed oxygen, Daryl simply moved his attentions to her neck, sweeping her blonde locks aside to graze across the sensitive skin there. She hummed in pleasure, and reached up to slip her fingers through the long hair at the back of his neck, guiding him back up to meet her lips once more.
Finally, with a wry chuckle, he pulled away. "Not that I don't wanna see where this goes, but don't ya think at least one of us should be watchin' for walkers?"
Beth rolled her eyes, but grinned back at him as she tried to catch her breath. "Fine. No more shenanigans until we're safely behind walls, then." She unzipped her pack and removed the perimeter line she'd packed, then headed off to hang the alarms. "Sure hope you don't regret it," she tossed playfully over her shoulder as she went.
Daryl raised an amused eyebrow at her retreating back. "We'll see, girl," he said with a smirk.
They rose at dawn the next day and struck camp with practiced efficiency. Beth's leg was bruised and sore, but she worked the stiffness out as they walked. Soon they had picked up the trail of the cannibals again. The marks of their quarry's passage ran parallel to the road and just out of sight of it. Thanks to a night of rest and the straightness of the path, they made good time, but by noon, heavy clouds had gathered above them, and the far off rumble of thunder warned of an impending summer storm. That would make tracking more difficult, Daryl knew. He picked up his pace.
They encountered walkers twice in the morning, small groups of three and five that they easily put down between the two of them.
They decided not to stop for lunch, instead gnawing on jerky and dried fruit from their packs as they traveled. A few scattered drops of rain tattooed the forest canopy above them, and Beth pulled out a ragged blue and red ball cap, shoving it down over her braids and positioning the visor to keep rain out of her eyes.
"Braves fan, are ya?" Daryl asked, dropping back to tweak the brim of the hat. "Cute."
Beth playfully swatted his hand away. "Get your own, Dixon. It's about to be a gullywasher, and this one's mine."
Before he could retort, two things happened.
A hoarse cry of fear sounded through the trees to their left. And the sky opened up. Water poured down as if from a bucket.
Ash darted off toward the sound they had heard. Silently, Daryl grabbed Beth's hand and ran after him, grasping his loaded crossbow tightly to his body. Visibility was low, but Ash kept turning around to make sure they were behind him, his eyes imploring them to hurry, hurry.
Thirty yards later, they emerged onto the road and found the source of the terrified shrieks. The stink and sound of walkers had been obscured by the pounding rain, so they were surprised to see a group of nearly a dozen closing in on an unfortunate black man in dark clothing and a clerical collar.
The man was unarmed save for a branch that had likely been pulled from a tree during his flight from pursuit. It was a woefully inadequate defense. His eyes rolled in terror as he took a feeble swipe at the fiend closest to him, a lumbering giant clad in rotting coveralls. The walker batted the stick aside almost by accident and continued to advance. It was nearly upon the man when its forehead suddenly bloomed with the pointy end of one of Daryl's crossbow bolts and it collapsed to the ground, dead for the second time.
Daryl and Beth waded into the fray, hacking and slashing at the walkers, drawing some of them away from the gasping priest. Beth thrust her blade up through the nape of a monster just before it grasped Daryl's crossbow, then pulled the knife free as the beast fell so she could whirl around and plunge it into the empty eye socket of another that had shambled up behind her. She felt a third monster tugging at her jacket, but the pale, scabby hand fell away a second later, cleaved from its wrist by Daryl, who followed up with a dagger to the temple.
Together they dispatched one walker after another, cutting them down with brutal skill, dodging grasping hands and gnashing jaws, until a terrible human cry of pain split the air. Daryl knocked down the walker he was battling and crushed its skull under his boot before looking around to find Beth. She was pulling back the scalp of another creature to slide her knife home under its jaw. Relief washed through him. Then he saw the priest.
In his haste to scramble away from the walkers, the man had slipped on the gravel at the shoulder of the road and fallen backward onto the ground. The creature pursuing him had followed him down and somehow made it past the priest's frantic kicking to sink its jaws into the muscle of his thigh. As it tore away a chunk of his flesh, the priest screamed again, and his eyes rolled as if he would pass out. Daryl lifted his crossbow and put a bolt through the walker's head. It collapsed on top of its gasping victim.
Daryl retrieved his ammunition and rolled the walker off of the man. Beth knelt at the priest's side and took his hand, a look of sadness in her eyes when she realized they were too late to save him. Fresh arterial blood leaked steadily from the wound in his leg, and she said a silent prayer of thanks that his death would not be a long time coming.
The man's eyes fluttered open, and Beth laid a comforting hand on his forehead. "Tell..." he gasped, his breath ragged, "Please..."
She looked into his face, pity suffusing her gaze. "You're going to be all right," she lied.
He took a shaky breath and tried again. "Tell Rick..."
At the sound of Rick's name, Daryl's head snapped around from where he'd been keeping watch on their surroundings. He dropped to his knees and peered closely at the priest's face. "You know Rick? Rick Grimes? Were you with him? Where is he? Tell us!"
Beth laid a gentle hand on Daryl's arm.
The man struggled to draw each breath. "Tell Rick... I'm sorry." His face sagged, and his breathing grew fainter.
Beth squeezed his hand and gave him the only gift she could. Softly, quietly, she sang the familiar words that her father had taught her at his knee so many years ago. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me..."
They didn't have time to bury the man, who had never even told them his name, but when he was gone, Daryl slid a compassionate blade into his brain stem to stop him turning.
Together, they shouldered their packs and walked on. Without even discussing it, they turned away from tracking the cannibals to follow the trail of the doomed priest back to wherever he had come from, both of them hoping against hope that the Rick he had mentioned in his last words would be the one they were searching for.