New chapter! Woot! Thank you everyone for all of the support; it really means a lot to me and I hope you keep it up. Love you all. Hope you enjoy this next part.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Walking Dead, the comics or the television series, nor its characters. I just own my main OC, other OCs, and some plot points.

Warnings: Daryl and OC romance, swearing, violence, gore, crude humor, sexual content, mentions types of abuse, and has alcohol and drug references.

Chapter: Eight

The following morning meant the returning of searching the woods for Sophia.

Only problem was a lot of the search party was out of commission. Glenn had to go on a supply run for he was the quickest with Maggie tagging along—something that Glenn was ecstatic about. T-Dog was still recovering from his sliced up arm. Lori refused to leave Carl's side. Andrea thought it was suicide to go out without a gun—Hershel was adamant on having no guns carried around on his land. Dale was too old. Carol couldn't go out alone for she was not cut out for such. Rick had given too many blood transfusions. And Shane had injured his ankle and couldn't push it further. That left Daryl and Katherine as the only fit ones to go out and search, at least on foot; Shane offered to drive around and keep an eye out.

"Guess Daryl and I could split up," Katherine announced as her eyes took in the map a few of them had gathered around that Maggie had pulled out. "He could take the top of the creek and go downstream while I take the bottom and head upstream, meet in the middle. Cover more ground."

Rick seemed to like the idea however, Daryl looked less approving. "Sure dat's a good idea, Kat?"

She shot him a look, knowing that he still felt the foolish need to watch over her. "Don't even start, Daryl," she chided before placing on a smirk to say cheekily, so the people around them would never get too suspicious about the depths of their exchanged words, "Besides, alone you may have higher chances of seein' your chupacabra."

Laughter tittered amongst the group.

"He told you that story?" Dale asked, sheer amusement in his voice.

"Do ya mean the story where he said he had seen one when he was out ridin' one of my family's horses?"

"No," Dale brightened further, along with the rest of the group, tickled that such had been claimed more than once by Daryl. "First day of camp, all of us together, Daryl told us he had seen one while hunting for squirrels."

The laughter grew louder and Daryl scowled. "Shuddap! I know wha' I saw." he snapped.

"You honestly believe in a blood-sucking dog?" Rick said.

"Ya honestly believe in da dead walkin' 'round?"

Touché.

Afterwards, once the plans were made, they all split take care of what they needed to; Hershel invited Daryl and Katherine to the house to give them supplies, like water and the like, before they went out to search in the summer heat.

During that time, Daryl kept giving her looks, but she blatantly ignored them—much to his annoyance. She would not allow him to baby her. It was bad enough he had seen her nearly in tears yesterday. She had to be stronger and more independent. Rick and the group may have accepted her because she was helping them find Carol's little girl, but Katherine wasn't sure how long that'd last; she was still a stranger, after all. She could no depend on Daryl too much. If she had learned anything from the ending world, was that everything was temporary. The group, including Daryl, could dwindle to no one. The farm that Hershel was kindly allowing them to take refuge on could become overrun. Hell, she could even die. She had to pull her own weight and take care of herself.

Politely, Katherine thanked Hershel, who gave a small nod. "Be careful."

"Always am, sir." She flashed him a smile before turning on her heel, making sure everything was secured properly on her belt.

Stepping onto the front porch, Katherine arched a brow as she found Rick speaking with Daryl. From what it sounded like, they were discussing Daryl's obligations.

"You know you don't owe us anything, Daryl. You don't need to do this. You have no obligations towards us." the Sheriff pointed out.

Rick's words held no ill-intent, but clearly felt they needed to be said. And Katherine, despite how cool he had reacted, could see how offended he was in his eyes. The hunter scoffed and turned away, adjusting his crossbow across his shoulders. "My plans were changed." he spat, stalking off.

Rick sighed, rubbing his scruffy jaw.

"He wants to be here. He wants to help." Katherine finally piped up from the porch, drawing the curly-haired man's attention to her after jumping slight, startled. She offered a tiny smile with the cocking of her blonde head. "He's also got a soft spot for kids and cryin' women, but don't tell him I told ya that."

He gave off a small chortle. Then, upon softening, searching her sun-kissed face, he asked, "What about you, Kat?"

Her smile faltered and she pulled away from the railing, running a hand through her disheveled bangs. "The reasons are the same, but I ain't askin' for favors. I know nothing lasts forever and I'm still a stranger to your people."

"No one's asking you to leave." he pointed out, gently.

"…Mmm," was his simple, vague response, shrugging a mere shoulder.

Rick gave her a sympathetic look and Katherine took that as her cue to get a move on and start her search. And that's exactly what she did. She didn't need such looks. What she did need was to focus; she had a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.

Trudging through the woods made Katherine feel melancholy, birds chirping and boots crunching on dying leaves. For many days, she had journeyed and inhabited it, learning—and struggling—to survive on her own. She had been hunting and camping with the Dixon brothers many times, but it pained comparison and hadn't prepared her enough for surviving on her own. Katherine fretted how some twelve-year-old girl was managing.

Rick had informed her that he had told Sophia to follow the creek, so that's what Katherine followed, following and searching everything and everywhere she could downstream.

After quite some time, the blonde wound up at an opening where a quaint, pale yellow ranch house lied with a tire swing and a tree house attached to a thick, looming tree out front. It appeared abandoned and lonely, but any establishment could seem like home and sanctuary those days, even to a lost and scared child, possibly especially to a lost and scared child.

Katherine didn't hesitate for a single moment to start exploring and searching. Towards the house she went, eyes dancing about in watch for any kind of movement—for Sophia and for Walkers. It seemed clear and safe enough, but it was good to keep her guard. One never knew what could pop up those days.

However, just as the woman was halfway across the lawn when there was muffled thumping behind her, coming from the tree house, Katherine stilled.

Could Walkers even climb?

She certainly hoped not.

Little girls could definitely climb, though. And to a kid, a tree house may have seemed more appealing.

Either way, steadily and carefully, Katherine made her way back to the tree house to scale up it. "Sophia? Sophia, ya up there, sweetie? I'm a friend of you mom, Carol, honey. Sophia?" she called, keeping her voice low in case.

She received a response, but not a response she had anticipated.

She had received a bark.

A weak bark, but a park nonetheless.

Furrowing her slender, blonde eyebrows, Katherine reached the top and peeked in to blink, taken aback, at the sight of a German Shepherd puppy—probably only a few months old—growling and cowering in the back of the tree house.

The poor thing was matted, dirty, and trembling. He looked far too scrawny, his collar hanging loosely around his neck, so God only knows how long he had been trapped up there. From the smell of feces and urine, burning Katherine's nostrils, making her almost lose her breakfast, the young canine had to have ben there for quite some time.

Instantly, her heart went out to it, it reminding her faintly of her dear late Cody.

Careful of the contents on the floor, Katherine slowly crept towards the puppy. It growled as menacing as it could. "Shh, shh. I ain't gonna hurt ya, lil' one. Shh. Its okay. Its okay." she cooed, her voice unnaturally soft, something that only happened when she spoke to animals and young children.

The puppy just kept growling and scrambling back, revealing his teeth. Teeth that ultimately sank into Katherine's outstretched hand. A loud, pained cry pushed passed her lips and quickly, she retreated. Yet, not fully. Her hand was now bleeding, but she was not going to give up; she was not leaving without that dog. She couldn't leave.

She had to change her tactics.

The puppy had to be hungry, starving, so maybe if she offered him food, he'd be more obliging.

With her uninjured hand, her right, she fished through the pouches on her belt for the beef jerky Hershel had supplied her with. She broke off a piece and offered it to the abandoned German Shepherd. "Hungry, boy?"

He eyed her before reaching his head out to take a whiff of the jerky. "That's a good boy. C'mon. C'mon." she urged.

It took a bit more coaxing, but the dog finally took the jerky and approached her. He even licked her hand he had bitten as an apology of sorts. He was still skittish, which she understood, but allowed Katherine to gather him up into one of her arms securely, wrapped in her plaid over shirt. Then, very slowly and carefully, she started to descend the little and unstable notches.

Chills ran down her spine and every single one of her hairs stood on end as she heard distinct moaning beneath her, but she had little to no time between hearing that and being attacked by the sources.

A hand shot up and grabbed her braid, jerking her head back, initiating a strangled exclaim, while another hand clamped down on one of her ankles. The pulls were strong and forceful and it took everything in Katherine's power to keep her own grip; her injured hand held the living and now anxiously squirming bundle and her free and dominant hand held onto the tree for dear life. The fall wouldn't kill her, but it would definitely hurt and the dog could get hurt in the process as well.

The two Walkers below pulled, trying to bring her down to feed and Katherine pulled to prevent just that. Both parties pulled and pulled and while the Walkers didn't grow weary of the strain, Katherine did and so did the notches on the tree. Plus, there was the pain in her scalp and in her hand, shooting up to her shoulder. But she couldn't give in, no matter how painful, for not only did her life depend on it, but so did the puppy's, who was whimpering and wiggling fearfully—that did not help her grip.

Finally, the notch on the tree broke off and Katherine slipped.

She fell.

Pain exploded against the side of her head and against her right shoulder, a definite crack echoing in her ears as she yelped and black spots flashed before her vision. The air was knocked out of her and for a moment, all she could hear was her strangled coughing and hacking for air.

Alas, she had no time to try and catch her breath or even to check on the dog that had fell from her arms and was God knows where. Walkers were suddenly on her and reflexes, though hazy, kicked into overdrive, heart hammering in terror. One was at her head, ready to chomp down on her face while the other was at her feet, hungry to take a chunk out of her leg.

Desperately and frantically, while holding and kicking the lethal sets of teeth away, she tried to reach for her hunting knife attached to the back of her jeans. That proved to be far more difficult than she had expected, but not because of her attackers. Though, she could feel the burning pain of it, the movement of her right arm didn't feel right; it felt unattached almost.

Giving up was not an option.

It had seemed an eternity to Katherine until she had finally unsheathed her blade.

The Walker at her head was the first to be annihilated. Katherine thrust the knife upwards through its eyeball, through the brain, blood spraying across her face. It slumped and the blonde mustered enough strength to shove the deadweight aside with a huff. Then, she flung herself forward, kicking her free foot out to collide it with the last Walker's face, knocking it back. Briskly, the world spinning and her dominate hand being rendered useless, Katherine sprang and straddled the creature to imbed her knife into its skull, ceasing all movement.

For the longest time after that, the world stood still as her breath came out in heavy, quick pants, sitting upon the dead undead.

Then, the world started to move again, spinning rapidly, pain echoing throughout her frame. Her stomach churned and became emptied violently onto the lawn, wracking her person, tears of relief and fright cascading down her stained cheeks.

Katherine collapsed backwards, blackness consuming her…