Hello all! Thanks for staying tuned in, especial thanks to the two of y'all who reviewed and all y'all who put this on Alert/Favorites or both. This is a bit of a long chapter, but I promise to please. Especially all of you who think Shane is an egotistical jerk. ;) Today's song is "Barefoot Pilgrims" by Balmorhea, go look it up, I recommend. :D Enjoy and don't forget to review!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING INVOLVING THE WALKING DEAD, ETC, ETC, OR ANY OF THE SONGS USED AS CHAPTER TITLES. NO INFRINGEMENT IS INTENDED.

Kyra awoke later—it seemed like days had passed, but the rational side of her brain told her it was probably only six or seven hours— to the sound of voices from downstairs. She dressed in clean clothes and stumbled out of bed and down the stairs, still groggy and slightly disoriented. She was able to pick out Hershel's voice, along with two others she didn't recognize.

She followed the sounds of argument into the dining room, where she found Hershel seated at the table, flanked by two men Kyra had

never seen before. The two men were the ones doing most of the arguing. The one on the left appeared decent enough. He was wearing a sheriff's uniform and had a careworn face. The one on the right, however, sent red flags up in Kyra's brain. She wasn't sure whether it was the pistol tucked into the waistline of his BDUs, or the sheer bulk of him, or the fact that he was as irate as a wet cat, or all of the above. She decided on the latter.

Just as Hershel opened up his mouth to speak, she cleared her throat quietly and shifted her weight uneasily.

"Is this her?" The second man demanded. "She certainly don't look related to you." He cast a dark look at Kyra, then to Hershel, then the sheriff.

"Hershel's my daddy's cousin, second cousin really. I look more like my mama so that's why there's no real resemblance." She explained evenly.

"Really?" The second man moved around the table to her. Kyra drew herself up to her full height—even though she was only five three—and looked him square in the eye. "And if you're family like you say, why didn't you come here sooner?" He was just inches from her. She could smell the sweat and gunpowder on him.

"Let her be, Shane. I told you, she's kin." Hershel said wearily.

"Shane, is it?" Kyra glared daggers back at him, put her hands on her hips and heard her accent growing more country with every word she spoke. "Well, Shane, I'll have you know that until last night I lived by myself in a little house in a subdivision plagued with zombies, and two weeks ago I lost everyone that was dear to me to the fuckers. I have nightmares every time I close my eyes, because I was too late to save anyone and had to execute them all. I attempted living alone, but quite frankly, the house was too full of ghosts for me to be able to abide." She pushed him away from her with one hand splayed against his sternum, righteously upset now. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I would like a word with Hershel." She poked Shane in the chest and pointed to the door. "Without your needless whistle-blowing. Now git."

Shane looked unfazed, even amused. "Or what?" He smirked. "Little thing like you, you ain't no threat to me."

Kyra wound up and bitch slapped him as hard as she could. The blow echoed across the room and a red handprint was blooming across Shane's cheek. "If I'm not a threat you wouldn't have started this argument. Now go." She pointed to the door again, determined not to let him win.

Shane, sensing defeat, slunk from the room. Kyra watched him go with a look of hellfire and brimstone. Once he was gone, she let the anger drop from her face like a curtain and turned back to Hershel and the first man. She sank into a chair and glanced at Hershel. "Sorry about that. I'm sure that was one hell of an introduction."

The first man chuckled. "You're actually the first woman I've seen to slap him like that. And I've known Shane since high school."

"You brave man." She mumbled sarcastically. "Lord a mercy, where are my manners?" She stood and held her hand out to the first man. "Kyra O'Malley. As you've probably already heard, I'm kin to the Greene family."

The sheriff man nodded and shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. My name is Rick Grimes. My group is staying on the farm, not too far out. "

"Good to meet you, Rick." She turned to Hershel and continued: "I hope everyone's okay? How's Maggie?"

Hershel sighed and shook his head. "We've not been immune, I'm afraid. We've lost a good bit of people in this nightmare. Maggie's alright though. Right now I think she's helping Carol and Lori with the laundry downstairs.

Kyra clasped Hershel's hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. "I'm so sorry. I lost Daddy and Mitch and everyone not too long ago, like you probably heard."

Hershel nodded. "I did, it's a terrible loss. Your father was a good man."

Kyra sighed and released Hershel's hand. "Yes, he was. You said Maggie was in the basement, right?"

Hershel responded in the affirmative and Kyra headed down the stairs to go see her favorite cousin.

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The sounds of chatter floated up from the head of the stairs. Kyra descended quietly, so as not to worry Maggie into thinking she was taking recovery too quickly. She poked her head around the corner and called out, "You down here, Mag?"

Her cousin, sitting around a washtub with two other women, looked up at the sound of the familiar nickname. "Key! Thank God you're alright." She jumped up and gave Kyra a warm hug even though her hands were wet. "Here, come sit down." Maggie pulled up a short stool, and Kyra sat obediently.

"Mind if I help?" Kyra gestured to the baskets of dirty clothes; the two other women looked immensely relieved at the offer and agreed.

"This is Carol"—Maggie nodded at the woman to Kyra's right—"And this is Lori." This was the woman across the tub from Kyra. Carol seemed maybe forty five, with very close-cropped grey hair and a pleasant smile. Lori simply looked weary.

Kyra grabbed a shirt out of the basket and held it up, analyzing it closely. "Pardon my French, ladies, but who the fuck gets this much blood on one shirt?" She held up the offending article for all to see. Dark blood spatters covered the front and sides of the shirt.

Carol chuckled. "That would be Daryl."

"Daryl? Seems like a nice guy, this Daryl fella." Kyra set a washboard between her knees and began scrubbing the shirt in earnest. "Hate to be whatever this much gore came out of."

"It was probably a deer." Carol suggested. "Daryl's the hunter of the group."

"Wouldn't be surprised. Poor animal. " Kyra muttered. "So, how big is this group of yours?"

"Ten people." Lori answered. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if the number changed very soon."

"It's going to anyways." Carol replied. "It'll be eleven come spring."

Kyra stopped scrubbing at Daryl's shirt and looked at the two women. "Now hold the phone. I'm confused. Why's the number changing? And why spring?"

Lori gave her a small smile. "I'm having a baby."

Kyra dropped the shirt and reached over the tub, squeezing Lori's hand. "Congrats, hon. I wish I could be so lucky."

"It's a mixed blessing." Lori murmured.

Kyra, sensing her discomfort, returned to her task and changed the subject. "How long have y'all been here?"

"About three months." Lori answered. "It's nice having a place to stay at." She gave Maggie a small smile and returned to the wash.

Kyra chuckled. "That's better than me, I just got here."

Maggie chuckled. "It's a small miracle you got here at all. If it wasn't for Daryl I think you might have died of thirst and exhaustion."

Kyra stopped scrubbing again and stared open-mouthed at Maggie. "Tell me this is not the same man whose bloody shirt I'm washing."

Maggie nodded. "Yeah, that's him. You don't remember?"

Kyra scoffed and resumed washing. "What do you think? First thing I remember is being told to stop or someone would shoot, and then it's all black, and I think I remember someone carrying me to the house, and just as vaguely remember the lot of y'all frettin' over me like I'm the Queen or somethin'. And don't even get me started on what went down after I woke up." She added darkly.

"Why, what happened?" Maggie asked, a look of worry flashing across her face.

"Y'all didn't hear the racket upstairs?"

"No, we've been down here all morning." Lori answered innocently.

"There was arguing over whether or not I was a liability concerning the safety of the group at large." Kyra answered carefully.

"What'd you do?"

"There was some… disagreement over whether or not I'm really their kin." She nodded at Maggie. "Shane was being… intimidating, and in return I slapped him across the face and told him to git. Then I introduced myself to Rick and talked to Hershel for a bit, and now here I am."
Lori, Carol and Maggie all shared a look and then broke out into grins.

"You slapped Shane?" Lori asked incredulously. "What'd he do?"

"Slunk off like a beat dawg. He was being an asshole, he asked for it." Kyra defended.

"No one's offended, Key." Maggie consoled. "Actually, I think you're the first outsider to stand up to him."

"Well, I wasn't about to let him cow me." Kyra grinned in spite of herself. "So, if I wanted to thank this Daryl guy for saving my scrawny ass, who am I looking for and where do I find him?"

"I don't know where he is usually." Carol answered. "He's been avoiding folks a lot lately."

"Hmm. So what am I looking for so I'll know when I find him?" Kyra pressed.

"A redneck with a crossbow." Maggie answered succinctly.

Kyra laughed. "Redneck with a crossbow. Duly noted."

The laundry was finished around four in the afternoon, and in the two-hour window between then and supper, Kyra set out to find this Daryl man, wherever he might be. She hoped he wasn't in the woods. Carol had said that if that's where he was, she'd not find him easily, if at all. Apparently the man's woodsman skills would put Bear Grylls and Grizzly Adams to shame.

She found him, though, seated on a tree stump with a rag and a lap full of crossbow bolts. He was rather good-looking, especially with the sun behind him as he worked.

She pushed these thoughts out of her brain and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Finally she got up the nerve to speak.

"You must be Daryl."

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Woo that was enjoyable. More Daryl/Kyra interaction in the next chapter, where (!SPOILER ALERT!) we get inside the mind of our favorite crossbow-wielding redneck. Buwahahahahaha. Review please and tell me what you thought and/or anything you'd like to see in the future. :D