AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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One of the greatest continuous sources of meat that they had at the prison was their rabbit "farm". The rabbits reproduced at a staggering rate. They built a shelter for the furry little beasts so that they could withstand the cold of winter, and they'd built a run for them out of chicken wire that allowed them to enjoy the warmer days of their short lives outside.

Daryl was pretty sure that inbreeding wouldn't do anything to the quality of the meat that their rabbits produced, but he still liked to keep the gene pool at least somewhat varied. A run to a few pet stores, a few veterinarian offices, and a hardware store or two had offered up—along with a great deal of other supplies that they needed—everything that Daryl had needed to fashion some humane traps that would capture rabbits for them that they could introduce into the population of their farm. Daryl tagged the bunnies with roughly made "collars" from bits of string and yarn that they collected. The colors helped to indicate, roughly, the age and "family" of the rabbits.

Daryl would have never admitted it to anyone at the prison, but he considered the well-run rabbit farm to be one of his greatest contributions to the group. If he could help it, nobody would go without meat at any time of the year—even though they might tire of repeating the same meals over and over. Still, Carol was fairly creative with her cooking—as long as they kept her well-supplied—and it was sometimes difficult to remember that nearly every meal boasted rabbit as a protein.

With everything that had been going on the day before, and with Daryl set on helping Axel prepare the vehicle for Glenn and Maggie to go on their run, Daryl had sent Carl and T out to clear the traps. T-Dog refused to clear them because he didn't like to touch the rabbits, but he would at least guard Carl while he worked. And Carl, despite his enthusiasm, was good at removing the rabbits they caught from the traps, but not at resetting the traps when he was done.

There wasn't much going on at the prison today. As Daryl had predicted, Glenn and Maggie hadn't returned from their run. Nobody was too stirred up about it this time, though, because they—like Daryl—were pretty confident that the young couple had simply chosen to take advantage of the opportunity to have a little private time between them. Instead of being too concerned about things, everyone was busy going on about their day-to-day jobs.

Daryl's job, today, was to go around and reset the traps while checking to see if they'd caught anything else in the traps that had been empty the day before. The rabbit traps, after all, offered up plenty of rabbits, but they also offered up their fair share of possums, raccoons, and even cats.

Daryl had just finished resetting the metal door on one trap when he heard the sound of something crashing clumsily through the underbrush. He straightened up and turned his crossbow around from his back. He turned it toward the sound and waited for the Walker that was probably coming to explore the sound of the metal clicking into place. When he was out dealing with the traps, Daryl had to stay on guard against the Walker population of the area.

It wasn't a Walker that came crashing through the trees, though. At least, it wasn't a Walker that came first.

The woman was carrying a sword in her hand, lowered to the side. The leg of her pants was soaked in blood and there was wet blood elsewhere on her body. Daryl didn't know how heavy the sword she carried was, but it looked like it might have weighed two or three hundred pounds from the way she held it. She practically dragged it at her side as she toddled forward.

Daryl was certain that, even though she was coming straight for him, she didn't see him at first. She had clearly lost a good deal of blood. It was likely that she was exhausted as well. It was also probable that she was dehydrated and, maybe, even starving.

Seconds later, the five Walkers that were closely pursuing her made their way through the trees. She turned, without a word, and put all her strength into raising the sword that seemed to weigh a great deal. She swung it, slicing through the first Walker so that it fell to the ground still working its jaws, but the action was more than her body seemed able to take. It took her off her feet and, once she was down, it became clear that she lacked either the ability or the will to rise again.

Daryl quickly rushed over and, without saying anything to the woman, made quick work of putting down the remaining Walkers. As soon as the immediate threat was over, Daryl leaned down next to the woman. She was unconscious. He quickly checked her over. The blood that soaked her pants was coming from a wound in her thigh. It was very clearly a bullet wound. Daryl checked the rest of her quickly. It appeared that the other blood was likely from her hands having smeared it from touching her leg. She didn't appear to be bitten or scratched—even though she'd come very close to being torn apart. If Daryl hadn't been there, she would have been just another Walker.

Daryl couldn't simply leave the woman lying in the woods to bleed out or be eaten by Walkers. He had no idea what kind of person she was, and he wasn't sure that he wanted her around his family because of that, but he couldn't simply make the decision to condemn her to death based solely on the fact that he knew nothing about her. She might not survive her wound and the loss of blood, but Daryl had to at least give her the chance to survive if he wanted to live with himself. He reasoned that they could, easily enough, confine the woman until she was able to explain how it was that she came to be travelling alone and how she'd managed to get a bullet wound.

Daryl put his crossbow on his back, tied the burlap sack he'd brought to collect any rabbits he might find to the quiver he was wearing, slid the long sword—which was not nearly as heavy as it had looked in the woman's tired hands—into the sheath that she wore, and bent down to pick up the woman. She was entirely unconscious, so she was dead weight. Daryl hoisted her up and threw her over his shoulder, sure that he couldn't carry her all the way back to the prison in any other way. The only females that he was given to carrying with any frequency at all were Sophia and Carol—when she needed it. This woman was a great deal more solid than Carol, and Daryl took a moment to adjust to her weight before he started back toward the prison, silently praying that no Walkers would try to intercept the two of them on the trek.

Every muscle in Daryl's body was straining and crying out for mercy as the prison came into sight. They had worked to put in place some "wind breaks," as they called them, which slowed Walkers down as they neared the fences of the prison. These constructions kept the Walkers from all piling up at one place or another to press against the fences. Daryl made his way through the maze the best that he could. He tried to move as quickly as possible since he felt neither prepared nor able to fight the Walkers in his current condition. He worried that he, like the woman he'd tried to rescue, was nearing collapse. If he went down at this point, they would both be dead.

He welcomed the clanging sound that he heard through the noise of his own heart pumping wildly in his ears. He welcomed the screaming.

They had seen him and, without asking questions, they were running up and down the fences, banging poles and other metal utensils that they kept for just such jobs, against the metal fencing to draw the Walkers toward them. The Walkers would find their sounds more interesting than Daryl, and they would allow him to pass.

By the time that he made it to the fences, and Carl opened the gates to welcome him inside, Daryl could barely make it through the gates before he dropped down to his knees and spilled the seemingly lifeless body of the woman to the ground. She might be dead. It might have all been in vain. Daryl couldn't ask about her, though, and he couldn't give an explanation.

Luckily, nobody requested it.

It was Big Tiny—a veritable horse of a man who, despite some mistakes in his past life that had led to his incarceration, seemed to have the heart of a saint—who heaved up the woman and, without question, carried her quickly to the prison. It was Rick who first offered Daryl a shoulder to help find his feet again, and T who joined them to help make the walk to the prison.

And it was Carol who met them with water for Daryl and who washed his face and comforted him with cool fingers and a concerned expression before she allowed anyone to demand any explanation from him.

He kissed her fingers, too, as his breathing slowed down and he managed to find the ability to speak.

"She was in the woods. Collapsed. Got a bullet wound, but she never said nothin'. I couldn't just leave her there," Daryl stammered out as best he could.

"You did the best thing you could do," Carol assured him. She didn't look to anybody else to ask if they agreed. It didn't matter if they agreed or not. Daryl had done the only thing that he could do at the time. They would deal with the situation now.

"She didn't look bit," Daryl said. "I couldn't find no bites. Where's Soph?"

"Beth has her," Carol said. "She's fine. Beth has her. They're playing in Beth's cell."

Carol ushered Daryl inside and, slowly, most of the members of their group congregated there. The main common area of the prison that they used was big enough to accommodate all of them when they wanted to gather together, as was the space that they used for their dining area.

Hershel came from the direction of his cell, wiping his hands with an old towel.

"She's not bit," he said. "I'm going to have to do some surgery on that leg, though. The bullet's still in there."

"Do we have the resources for that?" Rick asked.

"I've got the supplies," Hershel said. "With any luck, it'll be minor—all things considered. She's unconscious for now, so I should take advantage of that. Still, she's going to be weak. I have no way of knowing her blood type, either. So we're just playing the odds for a while."

"If you're lookin' for permission to save her life," Daryl offered, "then consider it granted. I didn't drag her all this damned way just to leave her to die."

"We don't know anything about this woman," Rick said.

"Didn't know shit about nobody when we started this," Daryl said.

"It's a drain on resources," Rick said.

"So we go huntin' for more," Daryl said. "Ain't that what Glenn an' Maggie is doing right now? She was out there alone. Chances are she's got a whole fuckin' lot she can offer us. Survivin' out there by yourself ain't exactly the easy way to do things."

"And if she doesn't have anything to offer us?" Rick asked. "You don't know why she was shot."

"You right," Daryl said. "We don't know. You feel comfortable condemnin' her to death for that? For what we don't know?"

"What if she turns out to be dangerous?" Rick asked. "I don't want to take the chance of having her around my children. Do you want that? You want her around Carol? Around Sophia?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I weren't about to ask her to babysit," Daryl said. "I'm talkin' about savin' her damned life, not about playin' house with her. Cuff her. Lock her up. She'll talk eventually, but at least she'll be alive to tell us whatever she's got to say."

"Daryl's right," Hershel said. "I'm afraid that I can't, with a clean conscience, just allow this woman to die without attempting to save her. The wound is fresh and there's very little chance of infection if I act now. The longer I wait, though, the greater the chance is that I can't save her."

"Then you've got your answer," Carol offered. "I'm a universal donor if she needs blood..."

Hershel shook his head at her.

"I appreciate the offer, but for now you and your little one need your blood more than she does," Hershel said. "I'm sure that I can find some volunteers if it comes to that. If you're able, though, I could use some help."

Carol nodded her head.

"I'll wash my hands," Carol said.

"And tell someone to bring some hot water," Hershel said.

Daryl looked at Rick. He was clearly chewing over whether or not he liked the intrusion of the woman into the group, but they'd deal with that later. There was plenty of time for them to interrogate her and to decide if she stayed with them.

Daryl understood his hesitation. They'd met their share of bad people since the turn—including some that had very nearly lost them some of the people they held dear—but they'd also mostly been strangers at the turn. There were good people too.

There was time to figure out where this woman fell, but there wasn't time to waste when it came to saving her life—and Daryl wasn't going to be the kind of man who simply let people die without reason. He wasn't going to let his children see him behave like that. He wasn't going to let them know him to be that kind of man. That was the kind of man that Carol would never approve of—and Daryl couldn't disappoint her without a good reason to do so.

He was determined that, at the end of the day, his family would be able to say that he handled things firmly, perhaps, but never with undue cruelty.

If Hershel and Carol could save her—and Daryl had the upmost confidence in both of them—the woman would live.