"Ya caught us dinner yet?" he called across the small clearing and quickly heard her stomping back over to him.

"Not with all y'all's shoutin'. I mean, scarin' off my hunt an' callin' Walkers over."

He heard movement, knew what it was and where it was coming from, but he waited, not moving from his spot on the forest floor, not even a flicker of his eyes to check. It was coming from his 2 o'clock, maybe 3, she was standing at his 9 o'clock, acting all pissed. She loosed the bolt without barely pausing, looking at him straight after before the Walker could even hit the ground.

"So, ya can hit a moving target," he teased.

"I'd'a got the damn squirrel if ya hadn't 'a shouted."

"Still sittin' here hungry, Greene."

"Bite me, Dixon."

He quirked an eyebrow at her then, a smirk on his lips, but then he nodded his head towards his 12 o'clock. Her eyes followed his and she saw the movement of the trees as two Walkers emerged. Sliding the crossbow to her back after using her only arrow, Beth unsheathed her knife as he remained sitting there, one knee up with a foot flat on the floor, the other leg straight out in front of him, one elbow rested on his bent knee and both hands were playing with his own knife. She put both Walkers down and walked towards him, the sunlight shining across her left hand side. She detoured to pull the arrow from the first Walker and then walked directly towards him, streaks of blood across her jeans, her shirt, face, and even her hair and he had never seen her as radiant, never seen anything as jaw dropping stunning and he could watch her, the gentle sway of her hips, her chest moving in time with her steps. He had never seen anything like her, never known anyone like her and he knew he never would again.

Even with her new scars, the physical and emotional from Grady, the ones he still knew nothing about because he was never going to pry, she was unique in this world and Daryl wondered if she had been in the old one, too. She was something refreshing in the world as it stood. Probably would have been before the turn. She had said something, over Noah's grave, about letting a man die for a key. There had been remorse on her face, but no guilt. There was no indication that she felt whatever she had done burdened her, just a simple fact that saddened her. It hurt him none the less, the list of things that saddened her. Yet she still never gave up.

Through Noah's death, the prison falling, her daddy, leaving the school, the fear of whoever was carving Ws on heads, well, she just kept on going and she kept him going, too.

Passing him the bow, either to nock it or take it back because they needed to move on, he was unsure, took it from her and remarked, "Still hungry, girl."

"Do it yourself, Mr Dixon." She smiled across at him as they began walking in unison and he felt his own lips twitch. They did need dinner and somewhere to stay the night.

It had been two weeks already since leaving the school, two weeks of sleeping in the cold woods which were growing colder by the night and Daryl easily found himself craving that last night in the school. They had been in the science lounge, he had been prepared to take the first watch after watching her digging all day long, but she had refused, fought him and she had won.

She always won.

It was why he had left her to dig Noah's grave alone, watching from a nearby fire-escape where he had a good 180 view across to watch for any danger – dead or alive. If he had have fought her to help, she would have fought back and it would have been worse than simply watching her win. Her mood had been foul, Daryl had figured it was mainly losing Noah, but also everything else that he always figured she never gave up from. No matter how strong any of them were, all the shit that they all went through was going to take a toll and as far as Daryl was concerned if all it meant to Beth was to have a bad day and a few foul moods, to say and shout hurtful things at him, well, he would take it and push it all away afterwards.

He had made his own fair share of negative comments to her, drunk on moonshine, she was allowed to get her own anger out. Better than keep it all squashed down inside until it all became too much within her own mind and she sought some other escape. No way was that going to happen on Daryl's watch.

By the time that the sun was setting, Daryl reckoned that about two or three hours had passed and they now had three squirrels ready to eat when they found somewhere to make camp. Beth had caught one of the squirrels herself. He had been pretty proud of the catch, of her. As they continued walking, Beth's gentle humming from beside him was something he enjoyed after all these days, despite how silence had been his default just a few weeks earlier.

With a gentle hand to her hip, he put a finger to his lips and she stopped humming. He could still hear humming, the same tune, but this time from a much more masculine tone and he saw Beth's look of confusion and then embarrassment. He made sure that his bow was ready and Beth put her hand on her knife, pulling down her jeans ever so slightly. Rolling his eyes at her, she shrugged repeating to him with her eyes that there were still good people out there.

At least she was wary now, he thanked, knowing that she was right.

Okay he should never have trusted Joe and his men, or even the shits at Terminus, but from the little he had seen of Abraham and his people, they were good people. And, yeah, the people in power at Grady had been warped good people, but Noah had been good people, even Jocelyn had been. Even good people made mistakes, panicked. What would this person be?

They came in to a small clearing and saw a man sitting on a fallen tree, just starting up a small fire. The only visible weapon Daryl could see was a staff weapon, there did not seem to be anything at his waist. There could always be a knife in his boot.

"Gotta nice voice there," the man remarked without looking up until the fire was lit. "But I could hear ya for a bit. So can others. Some nasty things out here in these woods."

"Good thing we can take care a' ourselves," Beth replied.

"You're welcome to join me," he offered and Beth took a step forward, Daryl side-eyed her and she flashed him a small smile continuing. "Thanks." Beth sat down and the man offered them both some food and water. Declining, she offered him some of their squirrel whilst Daryl walked the perimeter a few times, added some noise makers and then reluctantly sat down next to Beth.

"You headin' anywhere?" The man asked and Beth hesitated. "Sorry," he apologized as if remembering manners from before the turn. "The name's Morgan."

"Beth," she smiled, shaking his out-stretched hand. He offered his hand to Daryl next and Beth spoke, "This is Daryl. He's not much for touching. Not really headin' anywhere," she gently lied. "We got family we're looking for, but no trail to follow."

"Headin' to Washington myself, but there's people out here, not just Walkers. Just a friendly warning."

"Ya seen any Walkers with a W?" Daryl pointed to his forehead, where they had seen the W on others. They were his first words since meeting Morgan.

"Nope. Seen people with it drawn on."

Beth and Daryl exchanged worried looks, but said nothing more.

"Gettin' dark," Morgan said. "I'm gonna settle down for the night. I'll be off before sun up, but you're welcome to rest here." Without another word, Morgan smiled and settled himself down to sleep. It was only a few moments before his breathing was gentle snores and Daryl raised an eyebrow at Beth, who simply shrugged her shoulders before reaching in to her bag. Pulling out two blankets, she put one over Daryl's lap and covered herself with the other one, laying her head down across his thigh as he pulled the blanket up a bit to cover his lower torso. It was getting colder now so he was wearing a sleeved shirt and he could have been more comfortable with the blanket over his shoulders, too, but his legs needed the warmth more. Plus, the mild level of uncomfortableness that the wind created across his shoulders was more than enough to keep him from falling asleep. Without much real thought, one of his hands began to stroke the wispy hair out of her face, soothing the pair of them although she was already asleep.

She could be out within a few seconds if he was close enough, but could take forever if they were on opposite sides of a camp. She slept deeper, too, he could tell from her breathing and, whilst he slept easier by her side, Daryl never managed to sleep any deeper no matter the situation.

The moon was high in the sky when Daryl decided it must have been half way through the night, Beth must have been asleep for a good five hours and he had barely even moved, just the occasional twitch of his legs, which never stirred her. He kept his hands busy, fiddling with his knife, checking over his arrows in the dim moonlight, but he mostly kept still – all the better to hear any one, or thing, sneaking up on them. And to keep an eye on the man sleeping not too far away from them. What about Beth and Daryl had given that Morgan guy the easy confidence to simply fall asleep near to them? He was either incredibly naïve or incredibly dangerous. What if it was this guy that had been marking walkers with a W, him who had stored them in the school for some inhuman motive? Ever since they had seen a second incidence of branded Walkers, Daryl was on a higher alert setting, more wary and observant of his surroundings. He had been caught out at the funeral home; it was not going to happen again. To have made it this far in the world turned to Hell, Daryl knew Morgan was dangerous and he was reluctant to awaken Beth for her watch.

If he woke her, she could be at risk from the clearly dangerous Morgan, but if Daryl remained awake all night then he might not be on his best form come morning and he felt that he would need to be to go up against Morgan. The decision was taken from him when Beth began to stir, rubbing her cheek in to his thigh and then letting out a gentle sigh. He had not even moved and she had woken, her body clock was synchronized with his now.

"Your turn," she whispered so close to his ear that the words ghosted over his skin, tickling the hairs there.

"'m good," he grumbled, looking over at Morgan who had yet to move all night; he was out cold.

"Your turn," she repeated staring at him until his eyes met hers. "Ya trust me?" She knew the answer and he knew that she was going to win. Again. Always.

With a nod, he huffed out a breath and she smiled largely, her teeth catching the moonlight. On impulse, he pushed her hair back behind her ear, letting his palm rest against her cheek, cool from the night air. Morgan stirred then, possibly from their hushed voices in the silent night, and Beth turned to look across the camp, her lips brushing his palm causing his fingers to flex and she snapped back to him.

"Ya need t' sleep."

Nodding, he exhaled again and her lips parted slightly as if to breathe in his breath. Then she leaned in, meeting his eyes and hesitating for just a moment as their eyes locked before she brushed her lips against his ever so lightly that he barely felt it. His fingers tightened at the back of her neck regardless and he was not sure why, was unsure what he hoped it would achieve or even what he wanted to happen next. Moving slightly, her hand resting on his thigh to keep her balance, Beth kissed his cheek, firmer, with more definition and said, "G'night, Daryl."

When he woke up, Morgan was gone from the camp and Beth was quite relaxed behind him, one hand still in his hair. Daryl had not even heard Morgan get up, let alone pack up and leave. Was Daryl getting complacent or was Morgan truly that stealthy?

"Ya do that all night, girl?" he asked with a hoarse voice as he sat up, working out some kinks in his neck. Beth's lap was more comfortable than the cold, hard ground or a balled up bag, but it was still no feather pillow. Not that Daryl knew much about feather pillows or women's laps at all, but nothing seemed to stop the neck kinks.

"Keeps me awake and alert." Dashing forward, she used the same hand to ruffle his hair like he were a child, grinning as she did so.

"Gerrof," he growled, causing her to laugh slightly.

"He headed north," she nodded in the direction and Daryl ducked his head in the direction, hiding the flush that was spreading up his ears at his pride in knowing her directions. It might have been something built in for himself, truly from his childhood and learning just as she was now, a good decade older than he had been. He could see the broken branches from his seated position.

"We'll go east a bit, separate our paths." They were headed north, too. There was a chance they would meet Morgan again and it troubled Daryl. For a moment he considered if they should follow Morgan's tracks for a bit, check he was heading north and he was not planning on sneaking up on them later.

"There are good people still, Daryl," she reminded him as if reading his mind as she packed up what meagre belongings they had and they set off, east, her hand slipping easily in to his.

They were heading in to the thick of Autumn and then Winter would sneak up on them in a matter of days, shorter days. And, as the nights got longer and colder, it would become more prudent to sit and wait for the few hours of light the world provided them. They needed warmer supplies, maybe better shelter, though he hated the thought that maybe they needed to find somewhere to camp out and see the winter through, let it pass without freezing them in their sleep. That winter after the farm had been tough and there had been a group of them, in terrain they knew at least sometimes. Now all that they had were each other and Daryl wondered if it was enough. Michonne had told him on one of their early runs still searching for the Governor, about the winter she had spent with Andrea and how ill their mutual friend had become. Daryl did not want to risk that on Beth.

He could not risk losing her, not just because of how it had broken him when Grady had taken her, more because he did not want to be the last man standing, alone. Never alone. Having spent his life alone, aside from when Merle popped in, brought havoc and then fled, Daryl had come to know more than simply being alone in his months with the others. Not so much at the quarry, the few days he had been there after Merle had vanished leaving behind just his hand, but after the farm, at the prison. The Woodbury folk had probably never realized just how much effort Daryl made with those he considered family. When Rick had told him that he was his brother, Daryl had felt it, too, that bond and with the others, too. And he did want to be back with them, he did, but he needed to get to them safely with Beth intact. It had not felt like the family he had grown to know in the church without her so even worse than being alone; being surrounded but without Beth.

But getting back to their family played at the back of his mind sometimes. In the dark of night when she was asleep and gently snoring on his thigh, his hand in her hair or on her shoulder screaming at him that the intimacy they now shared was almost constant. The hands that would reach for each other as they walked. How his head would lean upon hers as she rested on his chest. The way they shared their nights. The silent communication where one look, one shoulder shrug, one glance could be a whole conversation. How would any of the others understand that? Would they look at the pair and wonder what he had broken within her to temper her talkative nature? What he had done to turn her in to a survivor, capable of tracking and hunting almost as good as him? Would they even notice the changes she had made in him? Would they pull her from him and keep her away from the dirty old redneck who was only good for keeping them all fed?

"Look," she breathed, squeezing his hand some time just after lunch. There was a building up ahead and through the trees. Maybe there would be something useful there, something warmer.

Maybe it could be where they rode out some of the winter.

They approached the small cottage cautiously, Daryl slightly ahead of Beth. She banged on the closed door as he glanced in through a nearby window. Nothing looked out of place inside, literally, it all looked neat through the glass and nothing moved towards the noise or motion so he nodded at Beth. With her eyes turning downward, Beth pushed on the door handle and the click of the door releasing and opening sounded deafening in the silence of just their breath. He moved in first, the bow armed and up as he peered over it, scanning across the interior. They seemed to walk straight in to one room that spanned the length of the cottage, but only about half of the width. There was a couch and small table, bookcases and a fire place, a window on the wall next to the front door and another opposite it overlooking the back of the property. Near the back wall, there was a door on the only interior wall, which Daryl assumed led through to some sort of kitchen area and presumably a stair case.

There was something off putting about the cottage, reminding Daryl of the funeral home. He watched from the corner of his eye as Beth walked across the room to the back window and he looked at everything that was neat, tidy, in it's place and he just knew that there was something wrong so he walked over to the fireplace.

"No dust," Beth remarked.

"We could check out the kitchen, upstairs, grab some stuff we need."

"Daryl Dixon! There are people clearly living here. Children, too," she nodded her head towards the chair and a small pile of tiny clothing, smaller even than Judith the last time he had seen her.

"Ain't nobody home," he grunted at her and her eyes rolled. He had not meant it as an excuse to take stuff. Even if there were people living there a few days ago, they could be dead already by now. The funeral home had felt the same, but no one had come home those two nights Beth and Daryl had been there. Maybe no one had ever gone back, that last meal Beth and Daryl had shared there still out, rotting on the table. Hovering a hand close to the wood at the base of the fireplace, Daryl could feel some warmth still coming from them.

"Path out here, an' a gate." He moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder out of the back window and he saw her body shiver as he huffed out a breath, her wispy loose hair blowing around from it. "Could be a farm up there," she whispered. "Some old farms, where towns got bigger and closer to 'em, they'd shut them down over time, but some kept running as smaller farms with fewer animals, less land. Knock down the farmhouse, fill that with chickens and build a smaller cottage. Could be what we got here."

"'n the people from here are up there."

"Worth findin' out." He bowed his head, his forehead thudding down on to her shoulder and she gave a small laugh. "There are still good people out there. Maybe these are some."

"Maybe they're not. Not sure it's worth the risk."

Raising a hand up to rest on his cheek, Beth leaned her own cheek onto him as her fingers scratched through the hair there. "They might want our help. Might put us up over winter. It's gonna get harder to keep moving, Daryl. We didn't fare too well before and there were more of us. More people makes us safer."

"Only if we trust 'em."

"Can't trust no-one." She sighed then. "Daryl, I think we need this."

"Ya just wanna be a farmer's daughter again, don't'cha, girl?"

"Come on," she urged, pulling away and grabbing hold of his hand towards the front door and then along the path. There were trees surrounding the path, they had obscured the view of the path from the window, even from the road leading up to the cottage it was hard to see the path. Daryl wondered if that meant it was safe. Nothing was safe, not really. Nothing ever had been in Daryl's life so the world going to shit after the turn was never as much of a shock to him as it was to the others.

As the trees began to make way for green grass land, Daryl could see another small building, older than the cottage, but not much bigger and other buildings around the western side of the site. It smelt like a farm; there were definitely animals around somewhere and without fences, Daryl had to wonder how they managed that.

From the tree line behind them, Daryl heard movement and turned, putting Beth behind and to the side, able to look across and meet her eye but giving each other the ability to see 180 degrees. At least five men walked out of the trees, guns raised and pointed at them. Daryl's bow was aimed at, well, all and none of the men and he could see that Beth had her knife up – neither would be very effective from this distance and for this many. Their eyes met briefly and he knew that there must be just as many people behind him.

"I'd put that bow down, son," a gruff male voice said from behind him and Daryl felt Beth start to lower her knife as he slowly turned, eyeing up an elderly man with white hair that Daryl instantly knew Beth would think reminded her of Hershel.

"Why? Ya gonna shoot us if we don'?"

"Not unless you give me reason to, and shooting my family is reason enough."