The Wolf You Feed

Chapter 7

Daryl sat with his back against the wall, trying to rub some of the feeling back into his hands. His wrists had been boundly tightly. And for a long time. Sharp shooting pains were still radiating down into the tips of his fingers as the nerves in his hands came back alive. After he tried to explain himself to the women that were holding him captive, he had been shoved roughly back into the shed and the door had been locked behind him. But on the bright side, at least those crazy bitches cut the ropes that were binding his wrists before they caused permanent damage to his hands.

There was a lot of yelling going on somewhere outside the shed that Daryl was being held in. He couldn't make out what was being said or done, but he heard a lot of angry voices blended together. Followed by three quick gunshots in a row. That made the hair on Daryl's arms stand up and he lay down on the ground to look through the tiny crack at the bottom of the door. Trying to see if he could see anything that was happening outside. All he could see was the dirt patch in front of the shed he was locked in. He leaned back, grumbling to himself, trying to decide if he was better off staying in the shed until whatever fighting that was going on was over, or if he could use the commotion as a distraction while he busted the door open and ran away. His stomach made the decision for him and he turned and puked into the small bucket that had been tossed inside the shed with him.

The gunshots were followed by the sound of someone screaming. Maybe two someones, it was hard to tell from inside the shed. The voices got quieter and Daryl heard the sound of the screaming turn to crying. Then it was gone. He lifted up the torn remenants of his shirt and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was sick from whatever concussion he had gotten from being hit in the head, and the heat inside the shed was not helping. The air around him reeked of his urine and vomit mixing together in the plastic bucket and he scooted across the shed, trying to get as far away from the smell as possible. His head was pounding so hard it was getting difficult for him to even focus his eyes.

Daryl slid down the wall, lying his head on his arm. It felt slightly cooler lying on the floor. He thought about concusions and how you weren't supposed to sleep when you had one or you might slip into a coma. Then he started thinking about Rowan. Her hair and the smell of her soft skin. The little bump between her hip bones that was getting bigger everyday. How she might have gone over the cliff with the horses. Daryl was feeling sick and dizzy. And hopeless. If Rowan and his child were dead, he wasn't sure if he wanted to live. He shut his eyes and let the darkness close in around him.

The shed was suddenly filled with bright light. Daryl woke up spitting and sputtering from the bucket of cold water that had been tossed in his face. Wiping the water from his eyes, he tried to scramble to his feet. He slipped on the water and fell on his ass, hearing feminine laughter drift into the shed from the doorway. Then he felt the strong arms of at least two women catch him under the armpits and he was hauled up to his feet. He had no idea if he had only been asleep for five minutes, or if this was the next morning and he had been passed out all night. The disorientation only added to the pounding in his head.

Daryl saw the woman to his left was the one he recognized from earlier, the one with the scars on her face. When he felt her swing his arms behind his back to bind his wrists again he threw and elbow into her side and yanked his arms hands free. The other women started closing in, poking at him with pointy sticks. One jabbed him so hard that a trickle of blood ran down his arm.

The blonde woman regained her balance and grabbed his wrists again, harder this time. She tied his hands behind his back and then she shoved him forward, harder than was necessary. He stumbled and fell, banging one knee hard on the ground to catch himself since his hands were tied behind his back. The blonde woman yanked him back to his feet. She was stronger than she looked.

It was unusual to see a woman that muscular who still looked so curvy. She had large breasts. The side of one of them had pressed into Daryl's arm when she yanked him to his feet. From the soft feel of it, Daryl guessed they were real. If Merle was here, he would be all over that woman, even with the scars on her face. Wish he was here. Maybe he could charm us the fuck out of here. Daryl's brother was an absolute asshole. There was no denying that. But he had a way with women. Merle could turn on the charm as easy as other men could flip a light switch. A skill Daryl had most definitely not been blessed with.

Daryl was led, or rather prodded and poked, out away from the shed, past a large fenced in area, and out in front of a building that looked like a big camping lodge. The sort of place you would go to eat your meals at if you were away at summer camp. Not that Daryl ever went to summer camp. He saw the movement from the corner of his eye as they walked. Orange and black striped fur, moving in a blur. A huge tiger came at him, stopped only by reaching the end of the thick chain that was secured around it's neck. It hissed and took a swipe at him before it backed off and returned to it's spot in the bushes to the side of the steps that led up into the building.

"Holy fuck," Daryl swore. He had darted out of the way of the animal, not knowing it's chain was far too short for it to reach them. Some of the women laughed at him, but the laughter sounded forced and nervous. They were scared of the big cat too. And for a good reason. There was no question now as to where the blonde woman's scars had come from.

"Katie." The voice came from the front steps of the building. Daryl looked up to see a woman walking down the steps. She was tall, and unlike the other girls, her hair was long and fell down over one shoulder. She was wearing Daryl's leather vest, and the handgun he had tucked into the back of his pants was now tucked into a holster on her hip. "Bring him over here," the woman said. Since the blonde woman moved to obey her, Daryl guessed she must be Katie. She shoved him forward and then he felt her hand on his shoulder, pushing him down onto his knees.

"What the fuck is goin' on here?," Daryl asked. He didn't care for the way he was being treated, especially when he had done nothing to these women to deserve it. The red haired woman gave Katie a nod. Without warning, she whipped her hand back and slapped Daryl across the face. She didn't hit him that hard, but she hit him on the side of his face that was already hurt. His head snapped to the right and he saw spots swimming in front of his eyes. The pain radiated down through his neck into his shoulders and he gritted his teeth against it. The blonde woman snapped her fingers in front of his face to make sure she had his attention.

"You don't speak unless spoken to," she informed him.

"Coulda jus' said that," Daryl grumbled under his breath. No reason to be acting like such a bitch. Daryl had the good sense to keep that last comment to himself. The blonde woman glanced up to see if the other woman to see if she wanted her to hit him again, but the red haired woman waved her away. She came down the last few steps and walked over to where Daryl was kneeling.

The woman leaned down and got a good look at his face, then she started circling him. Daryl felt like a mouse that was being toyed with by a cat. The woman looked him over, he eyes lingering on his arms and the bare skin of his chest where his shirt was ripped open. Finally she stopped in front of him.

"Why were you trying to steal our food?," she barked out. When Daryl didn't answer right away he was prodded with the tip of a pointy spear. Not hard enough to break the skin this time, just hard enough to hurt.

"Ahh," he shouted, "Wasn't stealin' nothing from nobody." Damn these bitches were crazy. But since he had been accused of stealing, Daryl was starting to feel a little hopeful that maybe this was some kind of misunderstanding that he might be able to clear up.

"Lies!," the woman said.

"S'not a lie," Daryl insisted, "didn't steal nothin' from any of ya." Since the woman was wearing items she had stolen from him, he was finding this whole line of questioning rather ridiculous.

"You were trying to steal our meat," the woman accused. Her eyes were wide and wild. The more he looked at her, the more Daryl started to understand that she was just plain crazy. "The penalty for stealing in this camp is death!" Some cheers from the other woman rang out at that announcement.

"Got no idea what the hell yer even talkin' about," Daryl yelled over the background noise.

"So you weren't trying to shoot at the horses we were hunting?," the blonde woman named Katie stepped forward and asked. She was angry with the man. If he or that kid had shot off one of their guns or hit one of the horses with the bow he had, they might have spooked the horses in another direction and sent them away from the broken bridge. They needed that meat or they were going to starve come fall and winter.

"My wife's horse was in that herd," Daryl said, trying to stay calm and not yell at these women. He had a feeling getting angry and rude was not going to help his cause. "We were only trying to get her horse back."

"More lies," the woman with the red hair yelled, "if you were trying to get your horse back, why would you be shooting at them."

"Because my wife was about to be carried over the edge of the bridge with the rest of the horses, I was trying to save her," Daryl explained, feeling frustrated. The more time he wasted being questioned here, the further away Rowan might get and the harder it would be to find her.

"Wife? Were any women found near the bridge?," the red haired woman asked Katie. Katie shook her head. She only found this guy and the kid that was with him. But she had seen something crazy. A woman with long black hair riding full speed into the herd of horses and then riding away safely like she had some kind of magic powers over animals. Katie thought she must have breathed in too much smoke from the fire and imagined that. Now she wasn't so sure. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. If they had not found Rowan's body under the bridge with the horses, that meant she was still alive. Alive and uncaptured.

"Just more lies," the tall woman announced. She waved her hand around until and older woman stepped forward. "Clean up his head and put him in the pen," she told the woman. Then she turned on her heel and stalked back inside the building. Most of the woman seemed to take this as a sign to break up the meeting and head back to whatever chore they had been doing before Daryl was hauled out of the shed. Katie stayed. She motioned for Daryl to follow the woman with the long grey hair that had stepped forward. When he didn't scramble to his feet fast enough she poked at him with the end of Carl's rifle.

The older woman walked away from the clearing and headed for a smaller, out of the way cabin. Daryl followed along after her, not that he had any other choice. Katie was right behind him with Carl's rifle. The woman gestured Daryl into her cabin and set him down on wooden table. Katie tried to follow in after him, but was told by the older woman to wait outside.

"Try anything and you're dead," she hissed at Daryl before taking up position next to the doorway. After the older woman shut the door, Daryl looked around. The place was filled with hundreds of glass jars of varying shapes and sizes. Some had burlap wrapped around some of them to keep the light off the contents inside. Plants were hanging up to dry, suspended from the ceiling. He recognized some of them from living with Rowan. She used them to make medicinal teas and salves. The plant hanging in the far corner was the same stuff Rowan's dad used to make his stinky morning tea. Daryl understood now that he was in what served as this camp's infirmary.

The woman started by untying the ropes that were holding Daryl's wrists together. She turned his wrists over in his hands, checking to see how bad his rope burn was. As she checked over Daryl's injuries, he took the chance to observe her. The woman was older, her hair even whiter then Carol's. It was twisted into a long rope that hung down over one shoulder. She had kind eyes and a thin silver ring through one nostril. But what really made Daryl hopeful was the crystal she had dangling around her neck on a slim sliver chain. It was amber colored, but the same shape and size as the one Rowan wore. Her clothes had the same baggy effortless look to them that Rowan's had. Daryl knew he was in or near the place where Rowan grew up. Maybe this woman knew her.

"What is this place?," Daryl asked the woman. He figured he would start with an easy question and work up from there. Casual conversation wasn't really his strong suit. There was a long silence. At first Daryl wasn't sure if the woman was going to answer. Maybe she wasn't allowed to speak to him. But as she gently washed the dried blood off the side of his face to check how bad his head was hurt, she spoke to him. Her voice was low and husky.

"It used to be called Twin Oaks," she said, "but now people call it Magnesia, after the place where the Amazons were from. Or Amanda's man trap." She said the last part with an almost sad looking smirk.

"Man trap?," Daryl asked. He didn't like the sound of that.

"Amanda. The tall woman with the red hair. She likes to kill all the men that have the misfortune to wander into what she considers her territory," the woman explained. "I'm Robin by the way," she added like she had been rude to start speaking to him without introducing herself properly first. Daryl nodded and gave her his name in return.

"If Amanda likes to kill all the men that come through here," Daryl asked, "why is she having you fix my head?" The older woman looked at him with pity in her soft brown eyes. What she said next sent a chill up his back.

"She must have plans for you."