So sorry I haven't been able to update! And also, apologies for this short chappie. Gonna post another one tomorrow, fingers crossed! :)

Thanks for all the sweet comments, views, follows and favorites!

XOXO,

OceansAria :)

After he awoke with his cheek on my chest, Daryl sprung up in the air like a cat that had been blasted chock full of lightning and refused to utter a word since.

We'd trekked out of the corpse-littered forest with our tails between our legs, soggy backspacks clinging to our half-dry clothes. We kept walking until nightfall and the small fire I'd stoked to cook the squirrels fizzled into embers.

"You need more rest." My voice was scratchy with disuse. "I'll take first watch."

Did he listen to me? No.

We encountered nothing but animals and walkers for a solid six days. We fell into a simple, mindlessly robotic routine: wake up, break camp, walk, take a rest, walk, find something to eat, make camp, sleep, and repeat the process the next day.

The soreness in my body faded to a lulling throb; the calluses on my fingers and toes grew calluses. What few precious hours a night I usually got turned into nothing but the two of us taking turns to stare blankly at the place where the fire had died, pretending we didn't notice the other was awake.

I came to one morning with the idea stuck in my mind to bathe. Shawn used to say, If a skunk runs away from its own stink, you know its bad. I'd be lying if I said I understand what he meant then. I surely did now. Daryl hadn't washed properly—besides his near drowning—in three and half weeks; unlike him, I couldn't stand my own stench for so long. Sometimes I wondered if he'd lost his sense of smell.

We'd come across another town two days prior. I'd found an entire stash of soap in one of the mostly looted shops. Daryl had disappeared from camp. Most likely he was hunting or scouting. I made a note with one of the last pieces of blank paper in the back of my journal, stuck it the tree with a spare pocketknife, and set out on my mission.

I knew the water would be freezing, making whatever bath I could manage a quick one. The river wasn't even a full mile from our camp. Glancing around, I made sure I was alone before I began to strip. The air hit my bare skin in pinpricks; water pooled around my toes, the nerve-endings going numb on contact, sending shivers fleeting up my spine to chitter my teeth.

Okay, just wash and get out before you catch your death.

I stepped further into the river where the sunlight slanted on the surface, finding a slightly warmer spot. The rocks made a sheltered circle here, leaving a sandy bottom full of wildlife that skittered away at the sight of my legs, a cocoon away from the insanity around me. Not far from where I hunkered down was a turbulence of water and a small waterfall. I watched as fish jumped headfirst over the waterfall, giggling to myself when some went tail first instead.

"What in the hell are you doin'?"

I squealed shrilly like a piglet—dropping the soap as I fumbled to wrap my arms over my naked chest. The soap sunk to the dark bottom upon impact.

"Daryl! What are you doin' here?!"

"Came lookin' for you." He squatted at the water's edge. Eyes adverted and knife in hand, he picked at the grass by his boot. "Can't you ever stop bein' a beauty queen for ten seconds? We ain't got time for you to rinse, lather, and repeat all the damn time. 'Sides, water's gotta be freezin'."

"It's been a week since Joy's house. Sorry that I feel like retainin' a sliver of my humanity and takin' a bath while you were off doin' God knows what in the woods," I snarked. "Wouldn't kill you to wash, either."

Daryl raised an eyebrow but said nothing. We stared at each other until he turned his head, breaking the connection, and cocked his ear to the side.

"What is it?"

"Shhh. I hear somethin'."

My blood went as cold as the dark water swirling around my waist. "Walkers?"

"Naw. Somethin' else."

I started to wade through the current towards land, hoping that he would get the idea to not look at me. His eyes flicked over my frame almost bashfully—a young boy ashamed of being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. I chose to ignore the flare of the blush racing over my skin.

"Turn 'round so I can get dressed. I'll go check it out with you."

"No." He stretched to his full height and distractedly ordered, "You stay here."

I squinted at him. "I don't think so. Someone or something could grab you while I stood here waitin' for you to come back. Turn 'round. I'm gettin' out."

"Yes ma'am," he answered dryly, doing as I wished.

Once I was dressed, we started in the direction Daryl'd heard the noises from. They reached my ears the closer we got to the road. Rubber on asphalt. The gurgle of a diesel engine.

"Cars," I breathed. "Sounds like a whole troop of 'em."

Daryl kept his bow lowered. "Cars mean people."

"Which I know you ain't awfully fond of." Sparks of hope still formed for me. People meant the possibility of safety, of a camp, and finding our group.

"Nope."

The woods broke clear for the road. I kept on going, looking to my left for the vehicles to materialize so I could identify them—only for Daryl to yank me roughly back into the cover of the trees and shade me under his arm.

"Daryl—"

He tightened his hold. "Hush. They're comin' from the opposite direction." He paused to listen; the engines' gurgling was right on us. "I don't think they saw you. Sure as hell hope not."

I shook free of Daryl the moment he loosened his grip. Spinning to face him, I growled, "They could've helped us!"

"Or they could've blown your head clear off your shoulders 'fore you could flag 'em down."

"You don't know that!"

Daryl sneered, "Are you absolutely sure they would've stopped t'help us?"

"N-No," I stuttered. "But they could've. Now they're gone and here we are, stuck in the same crappy situation we've been in for almost a month! Wanderin' around in circles!"

He leaned in close, causing for everything else I wanted to say to stick in my throat. I could feel the way his eyes penetrated mine, sharp as claws.

"We. Can't. Risk. It," Daryl emphasized each word through gritted teeth.

A symphony of car horns sounded off in the not-so-far distance. Daryl whipped his head up—our spat forgotten—and grabbed my arm again subconsciously. I squirmed but he refused to let go.

"Those jackasses are gonna draw every walker for a mile makin' all that damn commotion," he mumbled under his breath.

I raised an eyebrow hopefully. "Maybe that's what they're tryin' to do. Draw 'em in and take 'em out."

"Doubt it." He gave the slightest tug to my arm, urging me to follow him as I had done blindly for what felt like an eternity. I didn't budge. "Beth," he coaxed. "We gotta go."

"I'm not goin' no where till we see if I'm right about these people," I demanded. "They could help us! Give us food, water, maybe even one of their cars! We could go back down to Georgia and—"

His dirty fingernails sliced into my skin. "No."

"C'mon! If I'm wrong, we'll get as far away as possible, fast. But if I'm right, we're takin' one of their cars and goin' back for Maggie and Glenn." I pursed my mouth and rested my free fist on my hip, hoping that my stance gave off that I meant business. "I've done everything you've asked me to. Why can't you just try this?"

Silence. Pure, thick, unsettling.

I sighed, "I'll go. You can stay here. If and when I get a car, I'll come back for you."

He released his fingers from my arm and curled them into his palm, his hand dropping to his side, every inch of him taut with ill humor. His upper lip rolled. Eyes slitted. In any other situation, I would have backed down.

"Do what you want, girl. I don't care."

I could feel where his verbal dagger hit home in my stomach. Rolling my shoulders and making my back ramrod straight, I gave him the sweetest smile a girl could manage when she felt like screaming her lungs dry, and took my leave gracefully.

"Hey."

Don't look at him. "What?"

"I'll be down by the river till the day after tomorrow. Then I'm headin' further north."

Reading between the lines with Daryl was a rocky skill I'd acquired. Come back when you realize you're wrong, was what he really meant.

"Have a good trip!" I hollered without breaking stride. "I hear Connecticut is brutal this time of year."