Natalie was pulling clothes off the line when she heard a vehicle coming down the lane at a fast clip. The house was set far back from the road; it took a bit to get to the house from the road. Natalie thumbed off the safety off on the HK45 strapped to her thigh, Allie knew better than to tear down the lane. Natalie snuck around the side of the house, watching as the truck came closer. She counted a driver, and a passenger sitting in the back seat, opposite the driver. She had seen this scenario many times before; the passenger was sitting with someone who was lying down, most likely injured.

"Great, just what I need. Someone looking for Dad and thinking he's still here. Looks like I'm gonna fill your boots Daddy." Natalie sighed looking up at the skies, seeing the darkness creeping in from the east, it was probably a good thing she thought to bring the clothes in. Natalie watched and listened as she saw an older man in his mid to late thirties step out of the driver's seat, speaking to the female in the backseat, before closing the door and walking towards the front door of Natalie's house.

The man didn't have a gun drawn, but that didn't make Natalie feel any more secure than being in a room with a hungry walker. She rounded the corner of the house, her gun trained on the man's head as she called out to him.

"Something I can help you with Mister? This is private property." Natalie nodded to the man as his hands went up in surrender.

"I'm looking for Dr. Kendall. A friend of mine said we could maybe find him here. I've got a friend in the truck that's in need of the Doc's help." The man's eyes held steady as he spoke, as far as he knew the gun trained on him was loaded and ready to fire.

Natalie stepped forward, keeping her gun at the ready, walking up within four feet of the man, "I don't know who told you that Dr. Kendall was here. My Dad's been dead a year and a half. "

The man's face fell as he processed the information Natalie gave him, "You're Natalie then. My friend told me if the Doc wasn't here you would be the next best thing. Please you have to help my friend, if not he's going to bleed out and probably die."

"Who the hell are you and how does your friend know me? I've been gone from this area for a long time." Natalie huffed as her finger tensed on the trigger, waiting.

"I'm Rick Grimes. My group is camped out about four miles from here on another farm. We mean you no harm; I just need you to help my friend. Please. He says he trusts you with his life." Rick reached out cautiously, his hand flat against the barrel of Natalie's HK45, pushing it down. His blue eyes searched her face, pleading for her help.

Natalie sighed, clicking on the safety on her gun, tucking it back into her holster. "Alright, let me see what you have going on. I'll do what I can, might not be much, but I'll try. It's all I can do."

Rick sighed in relief, "Thank you Natalie. If there is anything we can do for you in return please let me know."

Rick led Natalie over to the passenger side of the truck, opening the door as he stepped aside. Natalie walked around the door, peering inside. Her breath caught in her throat, seeing a young blonde girl with hands covered in blood keeping pressure on the man's chest. Natalie ran her fingers over the man's carotid artery, finding his pulse weak and slow. His eyes barely fluttered open as he groaned at her touch on his neck; Natalie's heart stopped when she got a good look at her patient, seventeen years dissolved in a few seconds, as tears threatened to fill her eyes.

Natalie turned to Rick, blinking rapidly, "You're gonna owe me big. Let's get him into the office so I can get a better look at him." Rick hoisted the patient over his shoulder as the girl slid under the other side, still holding pressure to the wound. Natalie led the trio off towards the house, hoping beyond hope she could save the man bleeding behind her.

Earlier that afternoon:

Daryl knew he needed to take the kid with him hunting; one more person who could hunt wasn't a bad thing. The kid was decent with a rifle; he could hit a deer at 100 yards easy; a little practice never hurt anyone. Daryl had shot the deer they were now tracking, Kyle was walking about 50 feet off to Daryl's left; keeping his eye out for feral dogs and walkers.

"Here we go." Daryl crouched down; pulling his arrow out of the deer's chest slinging blood onto the ground as he wiped the bolt on the grass. Daryl heard the kid walking up; he wasn't the most quiet in the woods that was obvious.

Daryl started gutting the deer in the field as Kyle began to ask questions about what he was doing. Daryl carefully worked as he educated the kid on what he was doing and why. Neither of them heard the mountain lion that crept up on them until it was too late. Kyle barked off two shots from the 30-30 he was carrying, one shot hit the lion in the shoulder, as the other hit Daryl in the chest as he lunged for the cat with his knife. Adrenaline kept Daryl moving as he plunged his knife into the big cat's chest.

"Oh Jesus, Daryl I'm sorry! Oh hell! Shit! Shit! SHIT!" Kyle tossed the rifle down as Daryl rolled over groaning.

"S'ok kid, people miss all the time. You need to get this cat and deer in the truck before the walkers come for it. Camp needs food. We got too close to his cubs in the den. His old lady's round here somewhere. Go get the truck; I'll wait for you here." Daryl grunted as he pulled a rag out of his pocket, pushing it in the wound with his finger to stop the blood. Kyle picked up the rifle, running towards the truck.

Daryl started gutting the cat, his vision getting blurry as the lightheadedness hit him. He finished with the cat as he heard the rumble of the truck coming into the clearing. Daryl stood slowly from his knees, dragging the cat by the front paws towards the truck. Kyle jumped out, dropping the tailgate before coming to help Daryl.

"Go drag that deer over here and help me get 'em in the bed. We got to get moving." Daryl wasn't about to admit to the kid he was seeing black spots in his vision, he was sure the kid could see his blood soaking through the rag as they hauled their kills into the back of the truck. Daryl climbed into the backseat of the truck, lying down across the seat. Daryl's vision began winking in and out as he struggled to stay conscious, pressing the flat of his hand to the wound in his pectoral.

Daryl groaned loudly as Kyle slid into the driver's seat; "Ya best haul ass back to camp kid. I ain't feeling so hot." The last thing Daryl heard before he passed out was Kyle cursing as he made his way back to the road, heading for camp.