"I never told anyone this," Beth said, "but I'm kind of afraid of horses."

It was their second night at the little shack. Beth had woken up the next day expecting to find Daryl sleeping beside her, but only found an empty space and his gear. She appreciated that he always left his pack - it was his form of a note: Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Of course, she would never expect him to leave her, but still, sometimes it was the thought that counted.

When Daryl came back to camp he was acting more awkward than usual. He had a difficult time meeting her gaze when he spoke, and Beth couldn't figure out why. Had she done something to make him uncomfortable? Maggie once joked that Beth farted in her sleep, and she bit the inside of her cheek, praying to all that was holy it had just been good natured sisterly ribbing.

Then suddenly Beth remembered Daryl's moment of vulnerability last night. How he had opened up to her and told her the story about his bicycle. Maybe he was embarrassed about it? Daryl probably didn't want her picturing him as a little boy, and noticing how soft and kind he could be under all that gruff and hardness. Maybe, somehow, she could even up the playing field. As they ate their dinner outside around the fire, she finally came up with a story from her ow childhood that hardly anyone knew.

"What?" Daryl responded.

"No one knows that, other than family - which is only Maggie now," Beth said softly. "We lived on a farm, and we had all of these horses; I rode them plenty, don't get me wrong - but I was scared to death of 'em."

"Why?" Daryl asked.

"I mean, I get that horses are supposed to have these beautiful souls and all. Which I totally believe. You just look in most horses eyes and you can see the kindness and intelligence in them. But then... I remember being real little and watching the horses..."

"Did they buck someone?"

"No. It wasn't that," Beth said staring into the flames. "This is going to sound dumb."

"You ain't dumb," Daryl responded.

"Thanks," Beth said quietly. "I guess... it was the first time I had ever seen anything like that. The horses were all muscle and grace. Just to see something so beautiful and wild. It scared me."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure," Beth said, shrugging her shoulders. "You know, like the sun is this amazing thing, but it hurts to stare directly at it. In a way all I wanted to do was be a horse, and then in another way it was scary to know something like that could exist."

"Hmm," Daryl hummed, finally looking directly at her. "Makes sense to me."

"Yeah?" Beth asked.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I've felt like that before."

"When?"

Daryl only shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. Beth wanted to ask him more questions, but didn't want to defeat the whole purpose of telling him the story. Her cheeks still burned with the memory of how she babbled on and on about it. She should've thought through what she meant to say a bit more. But Beth had remembered the ridiculousness of it at the time - a farmer's daughter afraid of horses - and had opened her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Thanks for dinner," Beth said. "Do you think - well, I'm a little rusty with hunting again. Would you mind teaching me again? Like a refresher course? I was really getting a feel for the bow before..."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I could use the break, girl."

"Shut up," Beth said with smirk. "You know I pull my weight."

"We've all got jobs to do," Daryl echoed the phrase she had said many times.

"Not much to put on the family crest, but it's all we've got."

"Better than the one my family has," Daryl responded.

"Yeah? What's yours?" Beth asked.

"No one remembers - rumor has it my pa sold it for drug money."

"Well, that's unfortunate. I guess you'll have to make your own some day," Beth said with a kind smile. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm going to turn in. You comin'?"

"Yeah," Daryl said with a nod. "You go ahead in and I'll put the fire out."

Beth closed her eyes really hard when she was in the rooms, in hopes she could conjure a mattress out of sheer willpower; when she opened her eyes, however, it was the same old floor. Curling up on her side, she threw her hoodie over her like a blanket and yawned into a curled fist. Her eyelids were just starting to get heavy when Daryl walked in, shutting the door behind him, and moving the dresser in front of it.

"You warm enough?" Daryl asked her.

"I could go for a quilt, if you're offering," Beth said.

"Ain't got no quilt," Daryl said. "But I found a cloth tarp today - looks like they were planning on painting this shit-box; it was with a bunch of cans and brushes."

"Seriously?" Beth asked, sitting up.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I put it in the dresser. You were still asleep."

Daryl opened the top draw and through the sheet at her. It was heavier than she expected, unfortunately it wasn't the cleanest or best smelling. Briefly she thought of her sleeping bag - she had, had to abandon it some months back. Still, holding the sheet to her chest before unfolding it, she felt a huge surge of gratefulness.

"Thank you," Beth said. "This will be great."

"Ain't a big deal," Daryl said. "Ain't like I bought it."

"It'll keep me warm all the same."

"Suppose so," Daryl said, laying down on his back beside her. "Goodnight, girl."

"Goodnight, Daryl Dixon."

When she slept, Beth dreamed that she was back at the farm. There was a horse - black and beautiful. It ran, coat gleaming in the afternoon sun. Beth's legs began to itch with restlessness, just like they had when she was younger. She wanted to run, too. Fast and wild and free. Suddenly, there was a hand on the small of her back pushing her, Go ahead, said Daryl's voice, I'm right behind you, girl.