Thank you for the reviews from Lady-Finwe and galwidanatitud! And thanks for all the new story followers! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, last week was crazy busy for me. I basically work 6-7 days a week and still try to maintain a social life, so I had little free time last week to sit down and get another chapter written. But I made sure to find time today! So here is the next chapter!

I spent the majority of the afternoon staring at Daryl's back. He'd barely spoken a word since we had left the farm in search of Sophia. He had led the way to the creek and we had been taking a different route back towards the farm ever since. Only once had we stopped for a short break when we had stumbled upon some upturned trees. I'd planted myself on a tree trunk and ate a protein bar and some crackers, none of which Daryl had any interest in. Instead, he spent the few minutes completely still and in silence, his eyes scanning the forest floor in search of anything. When he'd manage to kill two squirrels I finally understood what he'd been looking for. After he had placed the two dead animals in the pack I was carrying, much to my own dismay, he urged us to continue on. I was surprised he hadn't mentioned anything about the gun I was carrying in my bag which I given to Shane.

If it hadn't have been for a few stray walkers earlier in the afternoon, I'd have said this day was completely uneventful. So far we had not stumbled on any tracks that led us to the little girl, and Daryl's stubborn silence was starting to wear on me.

I bumped into something and stopped, immediately returning to the present. I noticed I had run into Daryl's outstretched hand, barring me from moving forward. I leaned forward a bit and tried to see what it was he must have found. It seemed as if there was an opening among the trees farther ahead.

"Walkers?" I asked him in a whisper.

Daryl shook his head quietly, his eyes squinting off into the distance. "Think there's a house."

A house? Who would build a house in the middle of a forest like this?

"Stay behind me and keep quiet," Daryl's voice commanded me in a whisper.

Daryl started moving forward now, swiftly pulling his crossbow from off his shoulder and holding it in front of him. Following his lead, I pulled my hunting knife from its place at my side. A few fallen twigs snapped underneath my boots as I walked, but somehow Daryl seemed to move noiselessly through the trees.

We stepped out of the cover of trees, Daryl standing beside me. He scanned the area, crossbow still aimed and ready to fire at any sign of danger. My eyes instead scanned the house ahead of us. It was fairly small and appeared to have a second floor. The siding of the house looked like it had once been white, but the color was faded from the years. Some of the paint seemed to have been peeling off in places. The roof was a faded red that looked like it desperately needed to be fixed. It definitely did not look like the house had been kept up, at least not the outside of it.

"Keep behind me," Daryl ordered yet again, his voice quiet.

I approached the house behind him, my eyes now scanning around us. A sound caught my attention and I followed the direction the noise had come from only to see a large crow taking flight. I relaxed a little, glad a walker had not snuck up on us.

Daryl's weight on the front porch caused the wood underneath his feet to buckle and groan. I bit my lip nervously as I took a step onto it. The wood let out a squeak and I felt some wooden boards bend beneath my boots. I was afraid I'd fall through the porch before I even made it to the front door.

I jumped at the sound of Daryl kicking the door open. My heart began hammering in my chest at the sudden loud noise.

Daryl entered the dark house, his crossbow held steady as he turned one direction then another. He took a few quick strides until he was completely inside the house. Hesitantly, I made my way in after him.

I tried to stay focused and listen for the sound of any movements, but I was too caught up in the horrible state of the inside of the house. Everything was out of date and sun-worn. The curtains on the windows were tattered. There wasn't really much furniture inside; a table was upturned on its side and the only chair was a white, plastic lawn chair that looked as if someone had thrown it across the room. An old table lamp was lying smashed in the corner of the main room.

The floorboards continued to creak and groan occasionally, protesting our every step. The house stank of must and mold, probably from the water damage I could see on the walls.

A movement caught my attention and I looked up. Daryl was inching his way towards the open back door. He'd held one hand up to indicate for me to stay put, so I stopped in place. I could see the screen door swaying slightly. The actual screened part had been torn off and was just barely dangling down the door.

It was hot in the house with no real breeze coming through. I could feel my hair sticking to my neck and face where sweat had drenched it. I imagined I couldn't smell too pleasant right now either, which made my shower this morning feel suddenly pointless.

Daryl stepped out of the back door, sweeping from right to left as he had done through the entire house. He didn't shoot anything so I figured there was nothing outside to be worried about. He turned around and came back in, his head poking into another room.

I turned my attention to the staircase beside me, resting a hand on the banister. A thud from upstairs caused me to jump and retract my hand back instinctively. My eyes widened as they darted across the room and met with Daryl's.

With his quiet steps, he managed to make his way to my side without a single floorboard creaking beneath him. He held a finger up to his lips indicating for me to keep quiet and I nodded.

Daryl was taking the stairs two at a time just as noiselessly as he had made his way towards me. For a moment I wondered how he did that before I took a deep breath and followed after him. A couple of stairs creaked under my weight and I cringed at the sound. The third time this happened Daryl turned and shot me a stern look.

Eventually I made it up the stairs behind him to the second floor landing. It was fairly dark in the hallway with only one window at the far end covered in a dark curtain. There were three doors, all of which were closed. Not a sound was currently coming from any of the rooms.

Daryl opened the first door on the left only to discover an empty bathroom. He came back out and opened the door beside it and disappeared inside.

Feeling rather impatient, I opened the door I was standing in front of. I stepped into the bedroom hesitantly and was struck with an awful smell. My eyes scanned the room as I held an arm up to my nose to block out the stench. The bed had been practically torn to shreds and the bedding had been stripped and strewn across the floor. The only light was from a partially opened window next to it. I stepped in further, curious to open the nightstand to check for anything useful to scavenge when a low growl came from behind me.

I was pushed forward suddenly, my body toppling into the bed and my knife falling from my hands. The walker was on top of me the moment I twisted my body around. I didn't have a chance to grab for my knife.

Both of my hands were pushing against the dead woman's shoulders as her teeth snapped at me. She was missing half the skin on her face and her dead, discolored eyes were focused solely on me.

"Daryl!" I screamed out.

Loud footsteps pounded down the hall and suddenly stopped.

"Shit!" I heard Daryl exclaim as he must have stumbled entered the room.

I couldn't see anything from my position half on the floor, half on the side of the bed. The walker was half a foot from my face and I was struggling with what little energy I had to keep her from tearing into me.

A scream escaped me as an arrow suddenly appeared, just inches from my face as it pierced through the walker's head. She went limp immediately in my hands and I threw her off of me. Her body landed with a thud on the wooden floor.

I slid to the floor, panting hard and trying to catch my breath. My heart was pounding against my ribcage furiously.

Daryl stomped across the room and pulled the arrow out of the walker's head before putting it back in his crossbow. Once he had finished, he turned on me, his shoulders squared and his face livid.

"The hell were you thinking?" Daryl growled at me, his voice no longer keeping the quiet tone it had been all day. "Why didn't you just wait for me? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

I couldn't seem to find my voice under his piercing glare. The last time I'd seen him this pissed at me was after the CDC had been blown up and he'd given me a lecture about not fighting for my life.

"Do you know how stupid that was?" Daryl snapped.

"I'm sorry," I croaked out. "I didn't see anything when I came in. It came out of nowhere."

Daryl let out grunt in response. "You need to look better before you just walk into a room." He pointed to a closet that was partially open on the opposite side of the bed. "Did you even check that first?"

I shook my head, my gaze dropping to my feet.

There was silence for a moment as I sat there calming down and feeling like a giant idiot in front of him. His boots suddenly appeared in my field of vision, followed by his dirtied hand holding my knife. Slowly, I reached out and took it from him, my fingers brushing against his skin briefly. I returned the knife to my holster before standing up, trying my best to avoid looking at Daryl.

I heard him clear his throat before he asked, "You okay? You didn't get bit or nothing?"

I glanced up and met his gaze, shaking my head 'no.' He nodded once before eyeing the dead walker on the ground.

"Come on, let's sweep the kitchen. See if there's any food to take."

I followed Daryl back down the stairs, this time neither of us trying to remain quiet and stealthy. He headed through a door just across from the stairway. To avoid another scolding, I obediently followed behind him.

As I watched him dig through the cabinets, I internally admitted he'd been right about how stupid I had just been. I had been more caught up in the state of the decrepit house than I had been focusing on any lurking dangers—alive or dead. I should have scanned the room better. I would have noticed that partially open closet door and I'd have checked it. The walker probably would have startled me still, but it wouldn't have knocked me down and made me drop my knife.

Real stupid, Isabell.

I had a feeling next time Daryl went out searching for Sophia or on a run, he wouldn't want me watching his back.

Glancing up, I saw him digging through the garbage. My nose scrunched up in distaste as I watched him pull what looked like a can of sardines out. He poured the liquid back into the garbage before tossing the sardine can back in as well.

I took in the state of the kitchen and spotted what looked like a pantry with the door partially open on the far end. With a hand on my knife I made my way over. The door squeaked in response but nothing jumped out. I relaxed and scanned the shelves. Some tinfoil, sandwich bags, seasonings, and vegetable oil lined the shelves. Anything of use must have been picked over already. Something at the bottom of the pantry caught my attention though.

"Daryl!" I called out. "I think I found something!"

Hurried footsteps met my ears and suddenly he was beside me. I felt his bare arm brush up against mine.

"A bed," I pointed to him, trying to ignore the slight physical contact between us. "Looks like it'd be big enough to fit Sophia."

He nodded in response. "Yeah. It does. She must have been here, but she ain't now."

Glancing back to the bed I let out a sigh. He had a point. No one was here besides that walker that had been upstairs.

"Let's go," Daryl said, his eyes darting towards the kitchen window. "Sun's got a few hours before it goes down. Should head back to the farm before then."

Something else outside seemed to catch his attention, causing him to stand there and stare for a moment.

"What?" I asked him after a few seconds.

Looking out the window I didn't see anything; just some bushes outside of the house and the forest in the distance. I glanced back to Daryl to see him turning around and heading back towards the kitchen counter. He grabbed an empty beer bottle and exited the kitchen. I stood there for a moment, entirely dumbfounded.

I rushed out the front door after him, trailing behind him as he walked at a brisk pace. He stopped in front of a flowering bush that looked overgrown and half dead at the same time. I eyed Daryl and followed his gaze to the flowers.

"Flowers?" I asked him questioningly.

With a raised brow I watched in disbelief as he plucked one off the bush. He held it between his fingers for a moment, studying it almost, before dropping the stem into the beer bottle.

"It's a Cherokee rose," he said suddenly, still studying the flower.

I continued to stare at him with a vacant expression on my face. The name of the flower still meant nothing to me. He glanced over at me and when he saw the look on my face he continued on.

"The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land, on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much 'cause they were losing their little ones along the way. Exposure, disease, starvation. A lot of 'em just disappeared." Daryl paused, his eyes transfixed on the flower. "The elders said a prayer, asking for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits and give them strength. Hope. The next day this rose started to grow right next to where the mothers' tears fell."

Daryl fell silent as I realized he meant to give the rose to Carol. Part of me was touched by the gesture of him bringing her this flower back, to give her hope for Sophia. But part of me felt something strange stabbing at my gut. If I had to name it, I'd say it was a tinge of jealousy I was feeling for Carol. But that just seemed absurd. What does it matter if he brings her a flower?

"I'm not fool enough to think there's any flowers bloomin' for my brother," Daryl's voice said softly, breaking the silence.

"But you think this one bloomed for Sophia," I finished for him.

He nodded his head silently.

"We should get heading back," Daryl told me.

He readjusted the strap of his crossbow on his back and held the beer bottle in his left hand before he squinted up at the sun. When he turned his attention back to the forest, he knew which direction we needed to head in and I followed quietly behind him. My stomach was still knotting up at the thought of him giving Carol the flower when we finally returned to the farmhouse and I slipped into a bitter mood.