Something about Beth Greene in the snow was fitting. Sure, she was southern, her blood far too thin for the chill in the air, but she still fit. Snow, like Beth, appears innocent, serene, and harmless at first. It is beautiful and captivating to look at. It isn't until you need to accomplish something despite the snow that you realize just how resilient it is. How much it can put up a fight. How much it forces you to acknowledge its existence.
To Daryl, Beth Greene was snow. The perfect mixture of purity and hope, combined with an indomitable strength that shouldn't be underestimated.
Daryl snuck glances at Beth as she concentrated on attempting to roll the snow into a base for her snowman. He didn't have the heart to reveal to her that the snow was too powdery to effectively stick together on such a big project. Rather, he just watched and listened as she swore quietly to herself.
"Cold yet, Greene?" He asked, adjusting his crossbow over his shoulder.
"No." She huffed, patting her hands together in an attempt to bring circulation back to her fingers. "Ya know, you could help."
Daryl just laughed in response, turning his head away and pretending to scan the perimeter.
He still couldn't shake the memory of last night. Following their first adventure into the snow, something changed between them. They sat by the fire, as they had so many nights in this cabin, and Beth leaned into his shoulder, as she had done on many other cold evenings, but this time Daryl returned the favor and ended up with her hands between his, slowly warming up her frozen fingers. After a while, the pans on the perimeter clanged and Daryl went out with his crossbow, only to find a sickly looking raccoon wandering up their front steps. By the time he returned, Beth was occupied melting snow over the fire for tea and they never mentioned the exchange.
But now, Daryl couldn't shake the feeling of her hands in his. He kept squeezing his fingers into fists, as if trying to erase the memory from his palms but the warm sensation never dissipated.
Daryl had to shake himself out of his daze, just as Beth finally gave up, kicking at the snow below her boots.
"This was a dumb idea." She mumbled. "Let's just go huntin like you said."
Daryl made his way closer. "Too bad, a snow-walker would-a been good bow practice for ya."
Beth didn't smile like she usually did at his lame jokes, causing Daryl to reach out and touch her arm reassuringly. "It's just snow, Greene?"
Beth gave a half-hearted smile, looking at the ground rather than up at Daryl. "My sisters and I always talked about going away for a white Christmas. Goin north. Making snowmen and snow angels on Christmas day. Guess I just wanted to do somethin for them... now that they're…"
Daryl felt a pull on his heart. Beth usually mentioned Maggie in an optimistic light. She would always talk about when she and Maggie were back together, rather than if. She carried so much hope that the others had made it out of the prison that even Daryl started to believe their friends were safe.
Daryl didn't know how to respond to Beth's sudden change of heart and he knew she didn't expect him to. Talking through feelings never was his thing, even if they had gotten close. Rather, after a moment he sighed, taking the crossbow off his back and handing it to Beth.
"You want yer damn snow angel?" He asked, letting his body fall back on the ground with a thud.
The last time Daryl Dixon tried to make a snow angel, he was 6 or 7 years old, and Merle kicked his ass for acting like a girl. But he still figured out the simple movements to create the desired effect in the snow, slowly and awkwardly moving his arms and legs.
Daryl knew he made the right decision when a quiet laugh escaped Beth's lips.
"Yer laughin at my art?" Daryl questioned, sitting up and immediately feeling the cold snow from the back of his hair fall down the inside of his jacket.
"No!" Beth claimed, her giggles suggesting otherwise.
Daryl stood up slowly, trying not to reveal his effort not to ruin his work. As he stepped back, he couldn't help but be disappointed by the unevenness of the entire thing. Maybe he didn't quite remember how to make snow angels.
"Now, make yer damn angel so we can go inside." He said with a nod toward an untouched patch of snow.
Beth smiled in response, the sadness from just moments ago now erased from her face. She handed Daryl back his bow and eased herself onto the ground, quickly figuring out how to move her arms and legs to make a much more symmetrical snow angel than Daryl had.
After she stood up, they both stepped back, standing arm to arm to look at the pair of angels in silence.
"I think mine's more like a snow demon." Daryl eventually admitted, looking at the awkwardness of his outline next to Beth's.
Beth cocked her head toward Daryl, a steady positivity in her eyes, "Daryl Dixon, you're an angel, never doubt that."