"Put the gun down, bitch," Daryl seethed.

"You put the bow down, bitch," the woman retorted with vinegar in her tone. She clenched her free hand around the stack of wood in her arms. Her eyes were the color of pennies, her hair the hue of roses. She was almost Daryl's height, and owned up to every inch of it. "My name is Joy Willis and I claimed this house a long time ago."

Daryl snorted. "You don't own this place. Ain't no deeds no more. Ain't seen your name any where 'round here."

"Actually, I do," the woman replied evenly. "This was my mother's house. It was left to me after she died." Her voice went soft and sour at the end. "This is my only refuge."

I spoke up: "Do you have two little boys?" I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the photograph. "Is this them?"

Some of the tension in her face loosened. Joy snatched it out of my hand. "Yes." She slid the photo into the front breast pocket of her flannel shirt, dirty like ours, all the while keeping the gun aligned with my forehead. "Now get out of my damn house. I don't want any trouble, but I'll give you some."

"No." I could tell his teeth were gritted to the point of fracture. "We ain't leavin'."

"You'll be fine out in the woods," Joy hissed. "I've pretty much cleaned out the woods for a mile or so around this place. Got traps set up for the deadbeats so they won't come up here."

I remarked, "No wonder it was so quiet comin' through."

"Yeah. You're welcome," Joy sneered. She forged her way into the entry with her gun still pointed. I shuffled lamely back, just barely noticing when I slammed into Daryl. "Now get your crap and get the hell out."

Daryl jerked his crossbow back upright. He started to growl out something I knew wouldn't help the situation. I grabbed his arm as roughly as I could to stop him before he loaded Joy's chest with arrows.

"Dammit, Beth! Get offa me! What the—"

"We can all stay here," I stated loudly, but calmly. I put all my strength into holding his wrist from moving. "For the night," I added, hoping to appeal Joy. Her copper eyes flashed with anger. "Look, ma'am, we've been traveling on foot all day. We hardly have any water and we ran out of food two days ago."

"'Cept for squirrel," Daryl grumbled.

I flicked my eyes at him as if to say, Let me handle this. He shut his mouth in partial surrender. "We just need one night to get rested and gather some supplies then we'll be on our way." I stuck out my hand. "We promise to be out by the time the sun rises in the morning if you let us stay and eat here tonight."

Joy's steeled expression didn't budge, but she did move to drop her gathered firewood on the living room floor. She kicked the door closed with her foot, uncocked the gun, and lowered it back to her side. Sighing, she reluctantly shook my outstretched hand.

"One night. That's it."

"That's it," I agreed. I nudged Daryl's side, and with a grunt more animalistic than usual, he lowered his weapon as well and shifted on his feet.

"I ain't afraid to hit no chick. 'Specially if she threatens us." He gave Joy a long, hostile glower and returned to cracking open our supper.

Joy, obviously not perturbed by Daryl's threat, turned on her heel and went into the kitchen. I followed her quickly, hoping to smooth things over more.

"Sorry 'bout Daryl," I apologized, finding her inside the pantry bent over looking at a lower shelf. I stopped right outside. "He's . . . he's not one for rollin' out the welcome mat."

"Is anyone?" Joy huffed. She stacked a few boxes in her arms, handing me the rest of her shopping. "He your boyfriend or brother or something?"

My cheeks flamed out of control. Sure, I'd noticed how, at certain times, being close to Daryl or seeing a fleeting smile cross his lips made my heart do funny hops, but I'd never once thought of him as anything more than a friend. Family, sure.

"Nope. Daryl's just a friend." I fingered the tab on the top of my box of crackers. "We had a camp with . . . with a lot of other people. We lost it, and we haven't been able to find our friends since." I puckered my lips in thought. "Did you and your family have a camp?"

"Sorry to hear that," she replied, ignoring my question. "Do you like lima beans?"

"Sure. Better than the yams we found."

"Yeah. My grandfather's favorite. Not so much mine. I wouldn't touch 'em. They've probably been in there longer than you've been alive."

Joy straightened, pushed past me, and we rejoined Daryl in the living room. Cans of cornbeef, green beans, and a jar of pickled eggs were waiting for us to feast away. I settled down on the floor by Daryl's feet. It had become a natural pull to constantly be at his side. When you only have one person to spend the days with in a world like this, you don't want to lose sight of them for long.

"I'll go get some cups and bowls," Joy said. As she turned to leave once more, she caught sight of Daryl's quick job at boarding up the windows. Even I had to admit it was messy, but it worked.

"What the hell is this?" she cried. "You went and ruined my grandmother's walls!" She bent and grabbed up a picture frame, it's glass splintered from the middle outwards. "And you broke a priceless family photo!"

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. "Would you rather have screwed walls or a walker's teeth on your neck, lady?"

Joy fumed, "And what's with the fishing line and tin cans hanging on the porch? I almost broke my neck trying to step over them! Is that some kind of redneck territory mark thing?"

I knew that every tendon, muscle, and molar in his body was reclenching, revving up for a brawl. I touched Daryl's knee to keep him from doing anything stupid and addressed Joy: "They're so we can hear if anything comes up on the porch. Mostly dead things."

"What you want me to do?" Daryl challenged. "Pay for the damage?"

With another pissed huff, she spun and left us to ourselves. I didn't care to follow her this time—mostly because I'd known her for all of ten minutes and because I wasn't gonna apologize for something so trivial, especially if Daryl had done it to protect us. A pristine home wasn't something to worry about anymore.

"I'll get the fire started." I scooped up enough dry twigs and threw them in the fireplace on the far wall. A half-empty box of matches rested on the brick lining the fireplace. I grabbed my diary from my backpack and tossed a few blank pages on the meager fire to get it roaring. Autumn was settling in, as was the chill to the night air it brought as a companion.

Daryl passed me the first cans to set on top of the iron rack straddling the fire. Joy had clearly used it a plenty. As the food warmed, he settled for sharpening his arrows and I kept to myself, reading through my last diary entries before the prison was taken. They were fairly lighthearted, filled with bits and pieces about Judith and how fast she was growing and little tasks I'd done throughout the day. Thinking of Judith made me think of Carl and Rick, which made me think of the others, Maggie and Glenn and Daddy—and I had to snap the book shut and slam a hand over my eyes to stop from having a full-on meltdown.

I'm not gonna do this here. I'm not gonna cry in front of Daryl and Joy like some helpless little girl wishing for her daddy and her big sister. We've all got jobs to do. We've gotta find them.

"Should be done."

Joy's reappearance brought me back into reality. I cleared my throat and grabbed the oven mitt she handed me to retrieve the cans from the rack. She sat on the opposite end of the room from Daryl in an faded floral armchair. I brought the cans over to the table, where we both served equal servings of lima beans and corn beef in the three matching, pale blue bowls. I stuck a fork in one and shoved it over to Daryl. Joy poured glasses of tap water. Once I got my own supper, I crawled back over to the fireplace and dug in. The wind was picking up outside, making me more and more grateful for the heat at my back.

"So how long have you two been on your own?"

Daryl wouldn't answer, so I did.

"Maybe a week and a half."

"All spent on the road?"

"Yeah. What about you? How'd you end up here? Did you live here with your mom?"

Joy shook her head. "No. I lived in Philadelphia."

"How the hell you end up in Georgia then?" Daryl asked.

"Came down to see my mom, make sure she was okay." Joy set her fork down, and her plate in her lap. She had a lithe frame; lean muscled, somewhat graceful. "Found out she'd up and left trying to get to us after she saw all that stuff on TV. By the time I turned around to go home, everything fell apart. The flights wouldn't go out and I couldn't get out of town because of the quarantines—" I watched as her fingers subconsciously reached for the photo in her breast pocket. "The phone lines died and then I never heard from them again."

"Maybe they're okay," I offered not only her, but Daryl. He didn't catch on that I meant it for him too. "We've been separated from our group before and found them again."

"Yeah, but not for this long," Daryl mumbled.

I shot him a glare equal to the one he had given our hostess. "Joy, I'm sure that your husband and mom would do anything to keep your boys safe. For all you know, they could be healthy and alive and heading your way."

Joy's eyes sparked. She leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her folded legs. "For all I know, they could've been eaten, turned, or killed months ago."

"You can't just give up on your family," I insisted.

Her knuckles turned the color of bone. "Yeah, well, looks like we gave up on each other."

It grew quiet again between the three of us for a long while. I finished my dinner, gathered their dishes, and dropped them off in the kitchen sink. Normally, I would've offered to wash them, but I didn't. Water was precious. I didn't know if Joy wanted us to waste it.

Daryl'd already set up his bedroll by the hearth where I'd been sitting. He used his pack as a pillow and set his crossbow by his side as he laid back. His hunting knife stayed gripped in his left hand even as he relaxed and shut his eyes. Joy had disappeared again.

"Where'd she go?"

"Turned in."

"Oh. Guess expects us to keep an eye out." I put my stuff a few feet away from Daryl and snagged the crocheted blanket for extra warmth.

"Guess so."

The matted carpet was ten times better than the forest floor. I can actually move around without worrying over a twig snapping and attracting walkers. Since the fire was starting to die, I made sure to toss a helping of twigs on top before I settled down and cocooned myself with the musty blanket.

"You don't think that about our group, do you?"

He turned his head. The fire's glow revealed bruises, more dirt, and cuts on his skin than I'd been able to see previously. His eyes—I realized that I'd never known they were such a piercing blue-green—softened.

"Naw." He grunted. "Now, get some sleep, girl. Gotta be outta here by sunrise."

"I can keep watch for a while. You've gone harder than me these last few days."

Daryl turned to face the ceiling again. I followed his gaze upwards, finding a patch of water spots. "Get some sleep," he spoke much more gently. "You can take watch next time."

My eyes didn't close for a while. I didn't tell Daryl the next day that I didn't sleep for several hours, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Joy's family, my own family, and the man lying twenty-four odd inches away. He your boyfriend or brother or something? I reached out at one point as sleep was finally dragging me under and tried for his hand.

"Goodnight, Daryl," I whispered.

His fingers squeezed mine, then, let go.

"Night, Beth."