The Wolf You Feed

Chapter 3

Rowan drifted off into sleep feeling safe and contented. Her head rested on Daryl's chest and one long leg was thrown over his hip. The sound of Tank's heavy breathing filled the tent, getting louder as the bullfrogs outside got quieter. For the first time in a few nights, Rowan did not fall asleep thinking about her dream.

The dream came anyway. The same as it had every night since a week before they left Alexandria. It was a horrible dream, the kind where she knew she was asleep but felt powerless to wake herself. She would normally consider such a bad dream as a message to change her plans. Stay home safe behind the high walls and forget about this trip. But something about this dream was different.

Rowan saw danger in the dream. Heard the crying voices of so many hurt and starving children. Daryl was there, hanging from his wrists by a long rope that led up into the sky like Jack's beanstalk. When she tried to get to him, she felt her feet sinking into the ground. The grass turning to quicksand under her. When she lifted her feet up they were dripping in blood. But instead of feeling the urge she normally would to run away from danger. Get away. Stay away. She felt exactly the opposite of that.

The voices of the little children were what killed her. She had to get to them. The pull inside her was so strong. More than she could bear. During the dream it was so strong it felt like it might rip her apart. She knew now that the pull is what had put the idea of going home one last time into her head in the first place. Even if she wanted to, there was no way she would be able to turn back now. Even if Daryl, Enid and Carl went back and she was left out here alone. She would still have to keep going. If she didn't, she was afraid she might have to suffer through this terrifying dream every night for the rest of her life.

Rowan was at the part in her dream where Daryl appeared to her in the clearing, dangling from the rope. She looked down for the weapons she knew should be in her hands. The small knife her father gave her, or the slingshot she carried while they were on the road. But her hands were empty. Her fingers dripping with blood. Taking a step forward, her bare foot was swallowed by the grass. Her body felt so heavy and hard to move, like she was walking under water. As if someone on the other end of the rope was reeling in a fish, Daryl started to rise up into the air. Lifting so high she would never get him back.

Normally this was the part where Rowan would wake up, startled and groping for Daryl to make sure he was beside her. But this time the dream changed. Suddenly the rope was on fire. The bushes around her burst into flames. She could feel the heat from the fire, singing the hair on her arms. The smoke was burning her throat and stinging her eyes. Instead of the screams of children, this time she heard the frightened screams of a horse. Not just any horse. Molly. It was a horrible noise, like the horse was being ripped apart by walkers. This was followed by the sound of Morgan barking. Barks like the kind that usually only came out of Tank. Loud vicious warning barks. Like the skinny white dog was about to tear someone's head off.

Rowan bolted up, grabbing for Daryl to make sure he was still sleeping next to her. Her hand closed down over the hard muscle of his arm. Even in the pitch black of the tent, she knew it was him. She rubbed at her face, confused for a moment. Trying to catch her breath. Confused because she was still hearing the same sounds she had been hearing in her dream. Coming from outside the tent. Morgan was barking and she could hear Comet's high pitched whinny.

"Walkers!," Rowan screamed. It was the first thing that came to mind. The animals must have been caught in a herd. She could hear Tank growling. Outside the flaps of the tent, holding his ground. Guarding her. Daryl woke with his arms flopping and flinging into the air. He caught Rowan in the face with one hard forearm in his panic. She saw little white dots float in front of her eyes for a moment, and she pressed her hand to the side of her head.

"MY BOW," he was hollering, scrambling about naked in the dark. Cursing himself for falling asleep naked. For not banking the fire outside so they would have some light. For letting his guard down. How could he be so stupid?

"To the left of the door inside the tent," Rowan yelled. She didn't know how she knew where the bow was. The words just popped into her head. Daryl felt his hand close down over his crossbow. He knew the weapon well enough that he could string and load it without needing to see what he was doing.

"Stay here," he told Rowan as he shoved Tank out of the way and exited the tent. Tank darted in, smelling to make sure Rowan was still inside the tent. Then he resumed his defensive postion outside. Good dog, Daryl thought. Not going to complain about your nasty dog breath for at least a week.

Outside there was at least a little light from the moon for Daryl to be able to make out Enid and Carl standing a few feet away. Enid had her rifle up and Carl was pointing his handgun. But neither of them were shooting.

"Walkers, where are they," Daryl hissed, moving closer to the two silohuetted figures.

"It wasn't walkers," Enid told him, "it was a pack of horses." Her voice was calm, but Daryl heard it crack in her throat when she spoke again. She was crying. And Enid never cried. "They took Molly."

Rowan felt around inside the tent for her clothes. She felt the fringe of her shawl and snatched it up, wrapping it around her like she would wrap up in a towel after a shower. Then she felt for her knife. Where had she left the stupid thing. Probably out by the fire pit. She was mad at herself for being stupid and careless. They hadn't seen a walker in days. Not since the day after they left Alexandria. They should have been watching out for them.

Shoving Tank, Rowan climbed out of the tent. Daryl had told her to stay inside, but of course there was no way she was going to listen to that. The night was dark, but she could see the auras of three people over near Carl and Enid's tent. They were tinged with more blue than usual and harder to see in the dark, but Rowan still recognized the distinct color patterns of her three traveling companions. Auras were like fingerprints, no two were ever exactly alike.

She heard a rustling noise coming from behind her tent. Then a low whine. Morgan. Tank must have heard him too, because once Rowan had ahold of his collar the big dog took off in the direction of the noise. She knew they found Morgan when her feet almost came down on his tail. He whined again, louder this time. Rowan knelt down, feeling carefully with her hands. His body felt solid, but when she got to his head, she felt something wet. He was bleeding. Rowan needed to get him closer to the fire pit so she could check his injuries.

In her panic, Rowan got to her feet and attempted to pick the dog up herself. Since he weighed more than her all she succeded in doing was moving him a few inches. She changed tactics and tried to help Morgan get onto his own feet. Thankfully the dog managed to get into a standing postition. He was whining, but he was walking. She led him slowly back around to the front of the tent.

Daryl crawled back into the tent, feeling for the lantern. He found it and clicked it on, turing it all the way to the brightest setting. Finding their sleeping place empty, he panicked. Daryl flung back out of the tent, still ass naked, looking for Rowan. He managed to almost bowl her over in his haste.

Grabbing Rowan to keep her from falling backwards from the empact of his heavier body, Daryl hugged her tight against his chest. She pulled back and took the lantern from his hands.

"Morgan's hurt," she said. The dog had made it around in front of their tent, but then collapsed again. Rowan knelt down next to him, feeling him over more carefully now that she could see. He whined when she touched his ribs. But they didn't feel broken, only bruised. The cut on his head was worse, but nothing that would kill him. It would just need to be cleaned and bandaged.

Carl and Enid were building the fire back up, tossing in the rest of the wood they had collected earlier. Rowan was happy to see they were both safe. She was confused about something though. There were no dead walkers lying around. She was sure the camp had been attacked. Rowan rose up to her feet and took a better look around. That was when she noticed it. Comet was still tied down over near the big tree they used to secure him. But Molly was gone.

"Those horses we saw earlier," Enid said before Rowan could even ask, "they came and took Molly." Rowan's hand rose up, reaching for her crystal necklace. Her hand hit her chest, coming up empty. Her necklace must have come off while she was thrashing around during her nightmare. It was probably in the tent. But reaching for it and not feeling it there gave her a sense of foreboding. Like someone had come in from the cold and put their freezing hands on her warm body. A shiver ripped through her.

"Molly!," Rowan hollered. She whistled for the horse. Then she ran over to where the horses had been sleeping. The ground was trampled and there were horse tracks everywhere. "Molly! Molly!" She yelled for the horse, getting louder and whistling.

Once Daryl knew Rowan was safe, he had ducked back into the tent to try and get dressed. He had managed to get his pants on before he heard Rowan yelling. When he got out of the tent she was already close to hysterics, yelling for her horse. She looked ready to charge off into the woods by herself. And she was getting louder. Too loud. The kind of loud that might attract more than a herd of horses to their location.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Daryl told her. He pulled Rowan into his chest and slipped her necklace back over her head. When he was trying to get dressed, he had found it tangled up in his pile of discarded clothes. It felt weird and somehow wrong, the necklace being somewhere other than her neck. She almost never took it off, not even to bathe.

"We've got to find Molly," Rowan sobbed into his chest. Comet was the friskier of the two horses. So they always tied him down at night. Molly stayed close. And the idea that walkers might come and her horse would be tied up and unable to run away scared Rowan. So she left her loose at night. Now she realized what a terrible mistake she had made. "It's all my fault," Rowan said, her breath hitching in gasps, "I should have tied her down. Why didn't I tie her down?"

"Ssshh," Daryl rubbed his hand over her hair, "it's not yer fault."

"Molly," Rowan sobbed. She had only felt this worried for one of her animals the time Derek had tied a rope on Lily to force Rowan to go with him. But even then Rowan had been pretty sure the man wasn't going hurt her dog as long as she did as he said. She might never see Molly again.

"We will get her back," Daryl assured her. Carl and Enid had the fire going now, feeding branches and sticks to the small blaze. He could see the hopeful look on Rowan's face when she tilted her head back to look at him. Unshed tears were sparkling in her eyes. "We will get Molly back," he told her again, feeling more confident. Daryl could track a solitary man through thick woods after a rainstorm. He was sure he could track a herd of horses and figure out where they went.