Okay guys, so, this chapter took a long time to write. I've been really busy and for some reason, nothing seemed "right". I would finish a paragraph and delete it. So, forgive the time lapse. Enjoy!

Chop.

The cold metal axe bit a deep gash in the log of wood.

Chop.

The log splintered in half.

Daryl added the halves to the rest of the pile. He'd been collecting and cutting firewood it all morning. With summer's heat bleeding out, they'd soon find themselves in desperate need of a source of warmth to protect themselves from autumn's chill—and then winter's wrath.

Footfalls approached behind him. They were soft and gently crunched through the overgrown grass. It wasn't a walker. That was for sure. Walkers were noisy. Their growling and groaning could be heard from a mile away. Plus they limped like beaten dogs.

Daryl didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know it was Carol. She'd been following him around like a shadow lately. Daryl wished she wouldn't. They'd slept together. They weren't married.

"Somethin' you want?" he asked, his tone abrasive, before hacking at another log. Carol flinched every time the axe came recklessly in contact with the wood. She was worried he'd nick his foot on accident.

"Back up a little, or you'll lose a toe." She warned, but she got nothing but an amused snort out of the Dixon before her.

"Yeah, I'm sure I will." He retorted. He swung the ax down even harder. The log was violently divided and the axe head sunk into the soil. He ripped it out and used his bare hand to brush off the dirt. Carol squirmed.

"You don't need to snap at me. I didn'-" she paused suddenly. Then she crossed her arms firmly. "Look. I know somethin's botherin' you. Don't try to pretend you're alright. Truth is, somethin's been botherin' me, too. I think it'd do us a lot of good if we could just sit an' talk-"

"Talk about what, Carol?!"

He flung the axe down and spun on his heel to face her. There was not anger in his eyes—no fire, no fury—but instead pain: sadness, hurt, torment. There were little memories swimming across his irises, ghosts of his past invoked through remembrance, and shades of fear for what tomorrow may bring. He was afraid of losing her. Sooner or later they'd all die somehow or another. He'd already grown far too close. He was already damned for sorrow.

"There ain't nothin' to talk about. Wha's done is done. Sittin' 'round playin' therapist ain't gonna change shit."

But Carol wasn't convinced. Daryl could deny it all he wanted, but he needed help. She needed help. Every fucking person in the whole goddamned prison needed help. They were all battered. They were all broken. Life had prodded and picked and chipped away at everyone's hearts, at everyone's minds. But Daryl and Carol—they had graves to dig and pasts to bury. If they could lay their previous lives to rest for good, maybe they could start a new one together.

.:|:.

The prison gang was gathered around the table for lunch. The air was sticky and stagnantly warm. Lately the weather had been mild and breezy and they had been confident that it meant they were exiting the sweltering summer and entering a pleasant autumn, but it turned out to be just a stint. The suffocating Southern heat had returned. It weighed heavy on their lungs and was utterly inescapable. Nobody had any idea what month it was. Even Daryl had lost interest in keeping track of time. It was futile.

They were nibbling on their rationed strips of beef jerky silently when Daryl finally spoke up. His voice was but a low grumble, like distant thunder after the brunt of the storm.

"Thinkin' 'bout goin' on a hunt soon." He announced, gathering everyone's attention immediately. He shrank a bit as he became the focal point. He wasn't used to being in the spotlight and tried to avoid it as often as possible. "A proper one, too. Two days long, at leas'. Wanna bring home more than jus' a few squirrels. Gettin' sick o' the damned things. Hopin' I'll get us a deer, or at leas' some rabbits."

Rick nodded in response. Maggie held out a piece of jerky for Beth, who received it with her teeth. A warm bundle of blankets occupied her arms. Judith suckled the rubber nipple of the bottle peacefully while Beth gnawed through the jerky, which had almost turned to leather.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that." Carol opposed, her words wavering. Merle's glare drilled into her immediately. Daryl looked up at her ever-so-slightly. The look in his eyes conveyed a warning.

"Why not?" asked Rick. He took a sip from the water bottle he shared with Carl. Carol glanced back down at her food, suddenly not hungry.

"Because." She (very poorly) tried to reason. But when she realized "because" wouldn't cut it, she expanded in barely a whisper. "We almost lost him once."

"Then come with me."

Daryl's offer took Carol by surprise. She had always figured Daryl would only ever want to hunt alone. He was the only one who knew how to. And wouldn't someone else trekking alongside him, crunching through the leaves and cracking every twig, be more of a burden than a help?

"If you're so worried 'bout me runnin' off an' gettin' killed, why don' you tag along?"

Carol's mouth hung open a bit, not knowing what to say. If she declined, she'd hurt Daryl—or at least risk sending him off to his death—but if she accepted with Merle sitting right next to her, she'd risk Daryl receiving yet another slandering from his brother.

"Jus' don' scare off any o' my kills." Daryl added, ripping off a mouthful off a thick strip of dried meat. Carol took a hesitant breath, holding back a smile.

.:|:.

"Where'll you set up camp?"

Rick helped Daryl load the car with supplies: food, water, blankets. A few guns were thrown in, just to be sure. Daryl was sure he'd only need his crossbow, but Rick (and Carol) insisted they bring a few hand pistols too. A crossbow with four bolts wouldn't get very far in case of a herd.

"We'll sleep in the car." Daryl replied, slamming shut the trunk of the green Hyundai. Carol was back by the side door, saying her goodbyes, giving Judith a kiss on her soft little forehead. She didn't intend on dying or vanishing, but then again, nobody did.

.:|:.

The car rumbled across the lumpy gravel path. Carol was staring silently out the window, shotgun in hand, almost hypnotized by the steady blur of trees. She was keeping watch for walkers as Daryl drove them deeper into the wilderness.

"Why are you takin' me?" Carol asked suddenly, breaking the hush in the air. Daryl glanced over at her.

"'Cause. Need some company, don' I?"

"I thought you were better off alone."

"Guess it jus' depends." He replied. Carol's eyes widened.

"Depends on what?"

"You complainin'?" he snapped, suddenly annoyed. "Listen, if you wanna go back t' that shithole,be my guest!"

Carol was jolted forward in her seatbelt as Daryl slammed on the brakes. He stared at her as she caught her breath, the rapidness in her heartbeat ebbing until its rhythm returned to normal. She shook her head slowly. Daryl grunted, pressing his foot down on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward before gaining speed. She noticed the exaggerated tendons in the back of his hands. He was gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Tha's what I thought."

.:|:.

The sun had long abandoned the pair as they wended through the forest, dipping in and out of shadows cast by the lanky trees. The moon was high and proud as moons often are, but its beams harbored no warmth. The headlights turned into rays of steam. Carol shivered as she rubbed her hands together briskly.

"We should stop." She advised, still scanning for walkers. So far, they hadn't spotted any, although she knew for sure there must have been a few on their trail. "Make a fire. Camp out 'till mornin'. We'll head out at firs' light. Thought I saw some berry bushes a few miles back."

Daryl nodded in response. The tension leftover from their brief scuffle seemed to have faded.

"Yeah…guess I can't do no trackin' in the dark."

.:|:.

Their first walker encounter came scarcely an hour later. Daryl had been stoking the glowing embers with a skinny metal rod they'd brought along. Carol was finishing her supper. They'd brought along a few cans of chili. Granted, it was vegetarian, but neither of them complained. A warm, filling meal was always welcomed.

A twig snapped behind them. Both of them snapped to attention immediately. Daryl went to draw his blade, but Carol signaled for him to relax. She rose to her feet, knife in hand. The walker stumbled out of the shadows, lured by the fire and the scent of fresh meat. To Carol's alarm, it was tall. It would have towered above any of their group. Carol felt herself shrivel as the walker snarled, quickening its pace. Daryl tensed, curling his fingers around the hilt of his hunter's knife. He knew that Carol would kill him if he interfered then, but he made sure to be poised to strike in a moment's notice.

Carol pushed past the fear. She would not allow herself to be so easily deterred. She swung her leg up, kicking the walker as hard as she could in the gut. It stumbled back, arms still flailing and hands still grasping at air, before losing balance completely. Before it could stagger back to its feet, she pounced. Her blade was buried deep in its skull, precisely above the eye socket. It stopped struggling. It had died its final death.

Carol ripped her knife from its head. She wiped the blade on her pants, leaving three thick streaks of dark blood behind. She turned, her lips spread into a pleased smile. Daryl was grinning at her, the firelight shining off his cheekbones and flickering in his eyes.

"Looks like we gotta get you a better knife."