I apologize for a long wait. And I know this chapter might seem kind of "boring" to you, I don't really know, but I promise the next couple chapters will be much more thrilling, haha. Thank you for staying with me, I love ya'll! :D Especially you, Rainbow!

Nine: Blood Boils without Fire

"The hell is wrong with you?"

"Hmm?" I look up from my oatmeal, holding my spoon above it to let the chunky substance run off of it into the rest of the slop.

"Why you smilin' like that? Ya look like an idiot." Daryl tempers, his thumbs digging into the soft rind of an orange. Instead of patiently peeling the fruit, he digs his fingers into the heart of it and tears it in half, eating it messily with his fingers. Daryl may be a hardass, but he's starting to grow on me. Growin' on me like mold, but still growing on me.

"Hmm?"

He snorts, continuing to skin his orange.

"I don't know whatcha talkin' 'bout, redneck." I sigh heavily, stirring the spoon in the glump of oats and milk. I take the spoon that lies in the honey dish, picking it up to watch the thick gold substance drip off the spoon and puddle in its cousins in the bowl.

"See, ya doin' it again…" he snorts, reaching across the table rudely to grab the piping plate of sausage. "Ya actin' like you're sittin' on a damn rainbow, rays a sunshine buffin' outa ya ass …"

"No I'm not." I start to interject, then sigh again, dropping the spoon in the honey. "Who shoved an arrow up your ass?"

He grunts, pushing his chair away from the table. "Ya damn women..." Daryl clomps out of the room, the same grumpy look on his face as always. I shrug and push my eggs around my plate. Olive smiles into her napkin as she pretends to wipe her face, and I can even catch Hershel smiling a little. I have no idea what they're talking about, with my so-called strange behavior, but –

"It's so nice out today." I sigh, and Maggie's eyebrows furrow at me. I actually feel like clamping my hand over my mouth, but it would be much too obvious, or would it? "I'm gonna go outside."

"Careful not ta blind the sun wi' your guidin' light." Daryl rolls his eyes, running his hand backwards through his hair that is still wet for the shower. "I was gon go huntin' round here in the woods later, if ya wanna come."

"What time?"

"Said later, woman, not a specific time." He grunts.

"Thought ya didn't believe in women huntin'." I wash the syrup off my hands in the kitchen sink and scrub off my plate. Daryl snorts.

"Ya got a good aim, but ya can't go around swingin' that rifle, figure it'd be a good idea to brush ya up on ya bow skills. Pepe wanted us ta clear out some a the deer round here. Too many a the suckers. Is that a yes, or a no, woman?"

"I'll meet you out by the stables at three, I have a few other things to do." I self-consciously rub my arm where it is still sore. I hope the others haven't noticed the slight greenish bruise in the crease between my upper and lower arm. "Thanks for breakfast, Mya."

The woman gives me a strange look, as if a girl has never said thanks before, and I don't even slam the door on my way outside. It's another hot day, maybe a little cooler than yesterday. It's probably in the eighties. Hard to believe that back in Tennessee, or Georgia, it's probably snowing like hell. I meander over towards the stables, and walk into the long concrete corridor that the horses and Margarita call home. It smells like horse shit and hay in here, but hell, I've slept in worse. After Petey, when I was on my own, I once slept in an ice cooler outside of an abandoned gas station, and it smelled like decaying bodies in there. Smelled worse than this, and I may have been lightheaded for a day from the fumes. This is a gigantic step up.

"Bill?" I call, and he pokes his head out from the stall he happens to be cleaning out. The girl who I often see with him, Naomi, is holding the wheelbarrow steady while he shovels soiled hay and manure into the rusty bed.

"Yeah?" he smiles and pushes his hat back off his forehead slightly, wiping dirt onto his forehead as he wipes his sweat.

"You need any help?"

He looks surprised and Naomi snorts, rolling her chocolate brown eyes. "Uh… sure. Can you put these saddle blankets out in the sun to dry? If it wouldn't be no trouble…"

"Course." I say, much to Naomi's dislike. Seems like she is a little jealous of what I can do to Bill's ears; turn them a bright red color. I smirk right in her face as I carry out the damp saddle blankets and hang them on the fence, lining them up like little ducks in a row. I return to the stable where Bill's girl seems to be chewing him out. It's funny, actually. I've always kind of done that to men, for some reason, which is strange because I never saw myself as that pretty or anything. I remember high school, I could just ask where I was supposed to turn in my paper, and a guy would be staring at my boobs and the one thing I prize, my full lips, and trying to get me to go out on a date. Strangely, I didn't do much dating in high school. Maybe because I was spending most of my time getting drunk, trying to get passing grades, and spending time with crazy ass Emily. I wonder what she'd think of me now. God, I hope I get to see that woman again someday.

When three o'clock rolls around, I mill around by the stables, waiting for Daryl to show up. He never seemed like the type of guy to be on time anyway. I've spent most of the day helping Bill and a few other of Pepe's hands. I assisted a guy named Pat pick oranges out in the orchards, and Margarita carried them back in baskets tied to her back. I actually like Pat. He's obviously just a lonely guy. I climbed up in the trees and handed basket after basket of oranges down to him. I am just feeling so strangely sentimental today. I'm sure that will change once I get out into the woods with Daryl, but for now, I feel – better. Like all of these traumatizing things haven't happened, and things can just sorta be normal for now. I know Devil will want to take more blood later, but I feel like a hunt might be energizing. I used to hunt for my food when I was alone for those few months, but I haven't since I found Rick's group.

"Hey," Daryl calls, and I look up to see him stalking towards me with Pepe's son at his heels. "Whatcha millin' 'round for, let's go!"

"I've been waiting for you for fifteen minutes, it's 3:24!" I shove my watch in his face and Pepe's son smirks. He towers over Daryl, but isn't even as tall as Devil, not even close. I look up into his almost black eyes and he hands me a small compound crossbow.

"This was mine when I was younger. It's easy to cock and won't put much strain on you." He hands it to me, and a small collapsible canvas quiver with a few arrows in it. "It'll do ya good. It's yours."

"Thanks." I say, a slight smirk on my face as he nods.

"Careful out there. Lots of woods and easy to get lost."

"Ain't gonna get lost if ya with me." Daryl shoves his hand in Pepe's son's, and shakes up and down a few good times. "We'll be back by sundown, then."

"Paige?" he calls before he leaves. "Devil wanted to see you before supper, if that makes sense to you. Does it?" he tips his baseball cap up on his head, his long gangly arms hanging at his sides awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'll be there." I smile and wave once, saluting to him. He salutes back and Daryl shoves against my shoulder.

"The hell was that about?" his forehead creases and he chews on the inside of his cheek.

"Nothing, I just got an appointment with the devil." I roll my eyes as we make our way out to the edge of the woods. Not only does Espero have orchards and fields of flowing wheat and corn, it also has surrounding woods. I'm get to explore them, but I wasn't ever planning on going alone. It reminds me too much of my months spent alone, wondering if I'd wake up alive. Daryl's a little bit of encouraging safety, but I never would have guessed I'd be spending my afternoon in the woods with Redneck Dixon.

"Ya ever shot a bow?" he asks as he steps over half a fallen tree. "Or have ya just been wanderin' round the woods with that loudass rifle…"

I roll my eyes. "I've shot a bow before. Hell, I'm from Tennessee."

He smirks. "Well, can ya aim?"

I put one hand on my hip. "Would I even be coming out here with you if I couldn't?" I imitate his voice. "If ya can't shoot no damn gun, why ya carry one?" rolling my eyes, I snort at his expression.

Daryl spits on the nearest tree. "You best not make me regret takin' ya."

"One might think you were worried about me going crazy again." I raise my eyebrows and step around a large stump, my boots sinking in the soft moss. "That why you want to keep an eye on me?"

"Might just be the fact that you're a crazy bitch who doesn't know where her head is." He shrugs. "Or, might be that ya actually ain't a bad partner."

Surprised, I hop up on a large log and hop down. There is a large crackling noise under my boots.

"Dammit, woman! Ya tryin' ta scare away every animal in the forest! Jesus!"

"Sorry." I mumble, swinging my new crossbow. I've shot normal bows before, but haven't had much experience with crossbows. I was never the bow type of person, but Daryl's right, I can't prance around the woods shooting my rifle. I gotta admit, I do miss it though. The weight of it between my shoulder blades was almost comforting, the security of a routine, along with my old tweed hat. I wonder if it's still in the smokehouse, or if Devil retrieved it from whatever rotty yanked it off my head.

"Damn… if ya don't be quiet, we'll be eating dirt tonight."

I laugh quietly into my sleeve. "You sound just like my old friend Emily."

He snorts. "Oh, please."

"Really… you would like her."

"I don't do women."

I raise my eyebrows. "Why am I out here with you then?"

He shrugs. "You aren't exactly Little Bo Peep. Ya can shoot, and I trust ya to have my back. Ain't no woman, but ya make for a good hunter."

I wonder if Daryl's hitting on me, but it can't be. It's just too farfetched. "I guess you did first think I was a dude when you first saw me."

He smirks slightly, and we're silent for most of the time. A few hours pass, and we shoot a few stray smaller animals. My compound bow makes for a good aim, and Pepe's son was right about the whole suspension thing. It's easy for me to pull back with one hand, and the arrows shoot without a kick. The sight is pretty swell too, and I know I'll get good use. It feels strange hunting with a bow, though. I'm not really used to the feel of such a naked weapon, but Daryl must be, because he hunts with familiarity with his crossbow. Figures, I've seen him carry the thing around since we met. Makes for an asset too, since noise attracts the walkers. These things make little to no noise when you hunt. By five, I've shot two squirrels, and a couple birds.

"So… you and Carol?" I try again.

He snorts and his arrow flies through the air, skewering a squirrel to the tree is was climbing on. He pulls the lodged arrow out of the tree and yanks it out of the small, limp body. "I thought the whole "not talking" thing was goin' pretty good."

"I'm just saying…" I shrug, whipping one of my arrows against a tree to smack the dried blood off. "The way she looks at you."

"Hell, woman…" he grumbles under his breath. "Thought we were out here ta hunt, not talk 'bout or feelins."

"Alright, I can shut up." I hold one hand up in surrender then hold the other up after tucking the arrow back in the canvas quiver. "I'm just sayin'."

Daryl shrugs it off and continues stalking through the woods. I figure Daryl and I are at our bests together when we aren't talking. But he does remind me of Em… the way he talks, the way her walks, even the way he just looks. The sting in my chest comes again. Just lately, I just can't fathom the thought of Emily as a walker. What I would do to hug her once more. Tough times don't last, honey, she'd say right now. Tough people do. I sigh and lean against a tree.

"Whatcha doin'? Ya thinkin' again…" Daryl says, scratching his head.

"Yeah, something you might not do much of." I raise my eyebrows and jump down by him again. "We should head back soon. I think we got enough."

He nods, though I know he's disappointed we lost the trail of a deer we were tracking earlier. It doesn't really matter, because we have a lot of squirrel and bird. We head back towards the estate, the woods becoming dim and hazy. "Hold on a second," Daryl says, pushing me back.

"What?"

"Somethin's been through here." he says, pushing me back of whatever "trail" his tracker eyes must see. He points in the fallen leaves and pine needles. "See that," I follow his finger, "Somethin's been through here, and recently. After we passed through, that's for sure."

"Deer?" I look up. I may be from Tennessee, but I have a hell of a time hunting. Daryl must have had years of experience tracking. I usually just shoot what I come across.

"Nah, deer crossed through over. See, there's other tracks over the doe." He points on the ground again, but I see nothing. With Daryl, I've just come to realize that saying that you get it and trusting him will get you through a whole lot without him getting him annoyed. I'm too much like him to get into an argument.

"Maybe something else's out here." I say, and he nods once.

"Come on, if we're gonna get back before dark…"

I follow Daryl back through the woods that I have no idea how he navigates through, and we come into a clearing that I finally recognize.

Smeeck. Squelch, smack.

The walker leans over the neck of the doe, steam coming off of the torn-open flesh. The insides are red and pink, spilling out over onto the leaves and tufts of brown grass, and the rotten hair of the female rotty is in tangled, stringy tufts. I raise my crossbow, but Daryl has already raised his.

"Son of a bitch." Daryl says under his breath. The rot-head turns around, even uglier with her face showing. Her features have sunken in so much, she is scarily ugly, like a nightmare. She kneels in the grass, her mangy dress stretched over her knees as she straggles the deer, digging into the dermis. She growls low, coming from deep in the back of her throat, and the meat in her mouth flops out as she eyes more desirable supper. "I got it." Daryl calls, and the arrow pierces the walker straight in the eye. She goes down and flops over the still steaming deer carcass.

"Here's our deer." I say, nudging the doe's nose with the toe of my boot.

"Bitch got to it 'fore us." He stamps on the ground with his foot and places his boot on the head of the walker, pulling the arrow out and wiping it on the thigh of his pants. "Damn it!" he kicks the dead walker again, her face sliding on the ground.

"Well kickin' it ain't gonna get much accomplished!" Surprising. There's my backwater accent again. It mostly comes out when I cry, or when I'm angry. Usually the latter. Daryl sulks for a while before he throws his hand up over his shoulder, blowing off steam before he decides to be rational again. I just step back and wait for him to stop getting angry.

"We should drag it back," he grunts, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder by the strap. Mine doesn't have one, but it's small and doesn't weigh a lot, so I don't mind carrying it and all. "Burn it, tell Pepe. He probably ain't gon be too happy this bitch roamin' round his property." He grinds his teeth and bobs his head, sticking out his lower jaw. "Wonder if she's got groupies."

"I don't wanna stick around and find out." I shrug, the strung up squirrels swinging at my waist. "But you're right, we should drag 'er back."

He spits and paces over to me. "Ya'll take an arm, I'll take th'other."

Every time I touch a rotty I feel like I should be wearing rubber gloves or something. Growing up in Tennessee, especially where I come from, you learn that if it doesn't bite you, it's fine to touch. Well, these things do bite. Even when they've been shot, I'm still uncomfortable around them. Still swinging my new bow in my right hand, I make a face and lean down, picking up the limp arm of what once might have been a beautiful girl. Now it's eyes are sunken in and sallow, coated in a thick cover of white film and yellow grime. Her arms are particularly gray, with black splatters going up her arms like she just started decomposing from the fingertips up. Under her nails is skin and whatever else she might have grabbed in this half-way zombie life, and her hair is in a tangled, crispy rat's nest that probably could be yanked right off.

"Damn," Daryl says, putting his back into pulling the most of her weight as he waits for me to catch up. Her bones crack and squelch under her skin, and her joints ripple under her rotted skin. Looks like she died in some sort of garden dress, like the kind with flowers and bright colors on it. As I drag her by the arm, her body bumps over the twigs and her dress snags onto a few other woodsy objects. I hear the soiled fabric start to tear, and the dress rips down the side.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath and rip the rest of what is snagged on a gnarled old tree limb that lays on the ground, its final tomb. Daryl spits again, showing his disgust at the hallow, gross skin that has rotted under the dress of the girl. I don't really like looking at their faces much, who does? They're always sunken in and disgusting, in various stages of falling apart and all that. But the actual body is the nasty part. You don't really wanna run into one with its shirt entirely ripped off and shit, because their chests are all sunken in and their skin is decapitated and rotting far worse than any other part of their body.

"Let's just get it back so we can burn it, Jesus." Daryl mutters under his breath like he always does.

"What the hell is this?" asks Glenn, who is lugging a small cart of baskets full of oranges and plums. He drops the handle and it falls to the ground, splattering in a small puddle form the night before.

"The hell it look like? Damn, you Asians get dummer and dummer." Daryl lets his crossbow slide off his shoulder and fall to the ground as he simultaneously lets go of the she-walker's arm, letting it flop onto the gravel path that leads to the house. "Imma go get Pepe so he can see this shit for himself."

"Well, what the hell happened?" Glenn calls, but Daryl doesn't look back one time, angrily stomping towards the house with an angry gimp in his step. I shrug to Glenn, the squirrels still strung up on my hip. The birds are safer in my bag, but the squirrel sash makes for a great rural fashion statement.

"We were hunting out in the woods… trackin' a deer, and we lost it. This bitch was chewing on out next meal." I shrug, kicking her rotten shoulder with the toe of my boot. Glenn stares at the rotty then looks back up at me.

"This was on the property?"

"Why would we go off the property? Of course it was. Plenty of game right here within these gates, and we stayed pretty close to the house," I pick up the end of the string that the squirrels are strung on and shake it. "Not even two miles out into the woods. So, not too far."

He eyes the dead walker on the ground and rubs the back of his neck, taking off his cap to do it. "Pepe said the land was secure."

"I thought so…we've been here a while, and I've never seen a walker on the property." Doesn't seem like a nice time to mention that I have, just not a "wild" one, really. Not a roaming one. The crook of my arm starts to tingle where Devil took my blood and will be taking more, and I self-consciously cover the spot up with my ruddy palm as if Glenn could be able to see it.

"Fences, barricades, wires…" Glenn lists off, his eyes slanted even more in thought. "Pepe's got all that, how'd one get in?"

"Good question." I say sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes. We haven't ever really talked much. I don't know a lot about the guy. Just that he's with Maggie, and has been with the group for a while. At least longer than I have. Come to think about it, I don't really know any of the others that well, not as well as I knew Beth. Beth and I spent a lotta time in that backseat. Her favorite color was blue. She had a boyfriend named Jimmy that died the very day I showed up. She liked cars, and no one really knew that about her. She loved her sister. Sometimes she didn't even think Maggie knew how much she adored her.

"Did it give you any problems?" Glenn shifts his weight from the left side to the right side as he paces around the thing. The cart of fruit still sits a few feet away. "I mean, it didn't come at you, did it?"

"No… it was eating our deer, like I said. It didn't have time, 'fore Daryl shot it." I shrug, laying my crossbow on the ground and the canvas sheath of arrows.

"You're good with a bow too?" Glenn asks, surprised.

"Nah… Daryl got most of these." I lay the string of tree rodents beside my bag and arrows. I'm about to speak again when I see a few people coming from the house. As they get closer, I see one of them is Pepe and his wife, another Daryl, and Olive, Camel, Rick, Tidan, and T-Dog. Daryl kind of jostle-runs, still in that angry gait. Geez, Daryl… sometimes I just don't know about him.

"See, I told ya!' Daryl says, kicking the walker body again. It rattles slightly, still face first on the ground. Her arms are still out in front of her, the way Daryl and I dragged her. "Shot it clear out there!" he points to the general vicinity of the woods.

"Where?" Pepe asks, stroking his mustache worriedly.

"Out there, near the east side of the forest. Makin' a buffet outa the deer we been trackin'." Daryl says, his accent coming on thicker when he's angry. "Donno how it got in, but I was walkin' a ways yesterday on the property. Ain't seen no holes in ya fence. Ya got it built up pretty damn high. That means she was pro'bly here 'fore you secured the property."

"No, it can't have been. This place was secure." Pepe's wife, Rosia interjects, wrapping her arm up around her husband's. "Espero was sealed up tight as una caja de seguridad." I really don't understand Spanish, but I know enough that the last word means something like "safe". Somewhat along those lines.

"Well, then she must have wandered in from a break in the fence or something because this place is secure 24/7." Olive chimes in her slightly soprano voice. She looks at me for a moment, then her green eyes dart away quickly as she smooths her hands over her wide hips, seemingly wrapping in on herself. "Last time we found a carrier, we had watches at every corner of the property at night. That hasn't been since I was here and they wandered in here and a few followed." She puts her hand over the side of her face and brushes her yellow hair away from her face.

"I didn't think this would happen again… maldito." Pepe mutters, and Rosia rubs his arm gently, the crow's feet around her eyes loosening as their son scuffles the toe of his boot near the walker's sprawled body.

"I hatea burst ya bubble, Po-Bean, but ain't no walker gonna get in through those damn fences 'thout fryin' like an egg first. All that damn electricity ya waste on that fence, Christ… ya could light up th' whole city again with that much power." Daryl paces, getting agitated once again. "Last I checked, ain't no walker civilians gettin' in."

"There's no use in being uncivil, Daryl." Rosia scolds in that tone she might use with a bad dog. She isn't all too fond of Mr. Dixon, if he even deserves that title. He's been walking their property, setting foot on every plot of land like he's trying to memorize where everything is or something. I'm surprised he hasn't trod up her flower beds yet.

"Yeah, you gotta start with a clean slate." T-Dog says coolly, shifting his weight from one side to the other. "You oughta be insane if you think this crank got in here through those fences."

I notice Camel sort of trying to shuffle away in that awkward way of his. He's got his beat-up baseball cap low over his eyes, and all I can see is that damn cigar smoke drifting up and out from his mouth. He shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to be subtle, but Daryl notices. Of course he does, he's Daryl.

"You," he mumbles, raising his chin at the landscaper. "Ya the one in charge a all the land and stuff?"

Everyone stares at him, and he mutters. "Yeah…"

"Ain't ya checkin' the fences like you're supposed to be!" Daryl sets off, throwing his arm over his shoulder like he does when he's angry. "You let a hole get in the fence on your watch or somethin'?"

Camel laughs, pushing his hat back out of his face. "Redneck, ya can throw out any accusations you want, but it ain't gonna say nothin'!" he thrusts his chest out and stalks closer to us.

"Camel…" Rosia warns again in that voice, but they aren't having it.

"It's your job to keep the land clear of those things, and last I checked, it wasn't crystal." Daryl mutters, the edges of his lips pulling down. "You're a pussy bastard if you wanna pawn this off on someone else."

"Screw you." The bigger of the two men mutters, a glinting glare in his crazy eyes. Something just is never right about the man. Creeping around, the way he mutters under his breath and has those two mutts.

"This isn't the way it works." I say with a gritted jaw, piping up. Everyone looks at me, and I look away, especially at Tidan's thoughtful gaze. I'd rather not think about him right now, I thought my mind was cleared from the hunt in the woods, but what happened yesterday is still in my head. "Pepe's in charge here, not either of you." I look at Daryl, who glares at me for butting in.

"Do you wanna live here with that lying slack-worker?" Daryl says, pointing at the man. "We're living with a bunch of assholes!"

"You don't wanna live here? Fine!" Camel roars, swinging his fist around and knocking it into Daryl. "Don't let the fuckin' door hit ya on the way out!"

"This is my group, I won't let them live with you as a landlord!" Daryl spits out the blood, letting it pour down his cheek in a saliva-like fashion. "DAMN IT, YOU POXY ASSHOLE!" he charges for him, knocking him right good, just in the teeth. He reels backwards but doesn't fall.

"That's just about enough!" Pepe yells as Daryl tries to go back for more. T-Dog grabs one of his arms and Rick the other. "This is my property, and I won't allow this kind of brawl on it! Contain your man, Rick!" he demands, and Rick grits his jaw.

"This has nothing to do with any of the rest of us," he says, scrunching his nose with the effort of calming Daryl. "Don't toss around options, here. We can either stay, or we can't." Rick growls. "But we've spilt blood, lost others to get here…"

"This is your home." Pepe says softly, grabbing onto Camel's large arm. "I won't deny that from you now. But I am done opening my home to people. This is what it leads to, and I won't have it. Contain your people, Rick."

"That asshole's a dirty, sleezy liar!" insists Daryl, still in his uncontrollable fit of rage. I've never seen the man so angry before, though I haven't really ever seen him mad before. "Ya wanna make accusations 'bout us, fine then! But ya own man's a'slackin, and someday the ol' devil's gon come get ya'll if ya wallow in 'im so long."

"Just – shut. Up." Glenn says, rolling his slightly slanted dark eyes that are like two beads of light that glint in the light.

"Said like a true genius." Says Olive under her breath, blowing up a piece of her hair with her breath.

"I'm sorry about Camel." Devil says as he flattens the tap on my arm, holding his thumb on the cotton ball that throbs underneath. I already feel woozy, and he's just taken two pints. "He and Daryl must clash because they're both alike…"

"Nah…" I breathe deeply, trying to find my head. I feel all la-la, like I could float right off. "Ain't too much like each other…"

"Thing is, I was out by the fence today, picking through the vegetation. Makes for great home remedies," he says while crossing to the restraint-bed where his next patient, Daisy is strapped. She lies still, as if in hopes that I might come talk to her or something, and that human bit in her eyes is a little too creepy, so I try not to look too much at her. It's hard to think of her as a little girl in that state, if she even is at all. But she's so – docile. Especially compared to the others, though they have come a long way. "And there's a huge ass hole in the fence. Mangled, not cut on purpose, but that's the kind of thing Camel should be taking care of, instead of smoking his crack pipe, literally. Maybe if he channeled his aggressive energy into doing his jobs." Devil wipes up and begins the process of transfusing my blood into Docile Daisy.

"I – I feel dizzy," I say, trying to stand and teetering, careening to the left into the wall where I hold myself unsteadily. Devil is almost immediately at my side with his hands hovering. "I can do it, I can do it." I insist, but I really can't. He's taken a lot out of me, and I feel drained. "I just want to go to bed, God…"

"You can't walk, you're going to fall and break your ankle, even if I help you." He says, looking around. I can read what he's thinking right on his face.

"Uh-uh. I ain't sleepin' in no walker-rehab." I groan through my teeth, shaking my head. "Carry me if it's the least you can do."

Devil actually chuckles as I hold out my arms. He scoops me up and my legs hang down over his right arm like limp rag doll legs, and I feel like I can barely hold up my own head. I'm like a giant newborn.

"Will she be okay – like that?" I ask quietly, rolling my slow eyes over to Daisy, who stares down at the large tube in her arm like it is the most interesting thing she's ever seen. Actually taking it in.

Devil nods. "She should be alright. I'll just carry you to your bed and walk back here to take care of her."

"Does it work – immediately?"

He clears his throat as he steps out into the cool, breezy yet crisp night air. I can sort of feel his minuscule gimp on his prosthetic foot. Strange I didn't notice it before he showed me. I guess he became accustomed to it, just like I became accustomed to the sound of my own voice, the feeling of no one at your back. "No… it gradually works. She'll sleep tonight."

"Sleep?"

"Yeah… the blood is like warm milk to them. Puts them right in their first slumber in a long time. Figures, their bodies need a lot of rest." He shrugs, and I feel his chest rise and fall as the grass brushes the toes of my mud caked boots. "When she wakes up tomorrow, she might remember things. I don't know, I can't see inside their heads. But Millie's made excellent progress. I think that one or two doses of the blood will counteract the drugs I've been giving them for the past few months. She'll eventually resurface as a human again. I think."

"But… their bodies."

"Are in bad shape, I'm aware." He sighs. "They'll need to be on some major drugs, pain relievers. Fed though a nasogastric tube. Yes, there will be a lot of recovery. I've been trying to keep them in pretty good condition… but rot happens over time, just like rust. Every metal eventually rusts, right?"

"Right." I nod, closing my eyes so I can try and stop feeling so tipsy. "My group…" I mumble.

"I know, Paige. I appreciate you keeping this on the low side." He says, and I feel like he's really being genuine. "I don't even tell everything to Alexa…"

He barely trails off when I speak again. "They sorta trust me, Devil." He is silent, just walking. My eyes are still closed, but I can feel the sway of his slightly uneven gait. "I can't go on like this, letting you take part of me, keeping it from Rick, Hershel, Glenn, Maggie… they'd – they'd like, shun me."

"I doubt that."

"Maybe not, but – I feel like they're so in the dark with this."

"I'll tell you this, Paige… I trust you. Not just because I take blood from you every day." His chest rumbles with a chuckle. "But because I just really – trust you. I have faith in you as a person. This is your group. Back in the army – let's just say I know what it's like to have a group you feel sired to. They're your group. Your friends, maybe even you feel like they're your family. You do what you need to do. I won't interfere. This isn't my call, but – be careful, alright?" he lays me down on a soft surface, and I realize that he's already carried me all the way to my bed. "Goodnight, mate."

"Night." I say, and I'm out.

I groan at the light shining into my room much too early in the morning. It feels like I just fell asleep two minutes ago, and now I'm being woke up. I feel so slow. My brain is full of fog, and my limbs feel like I'm one of the old stuffed animals with wood stuffed in the limbs. I squint my eyes closed again.

"Devil says he's ready." The soft voice comes, and I feel the edge of the bed sink slightly down as Olive sits at the side of my bed. "I brought you some juice. And a cookie."

I stare up at her heart-shaped face. Her hairline in the type where it isn't perfectly straight, but sort of round and uneven, and her yellowish hair looks like artificial curls. I can tell that she doesn't have makeup on, but she's pretty anyway. I wish I was that way, petty as it is. I try to sit up in bed, listening to my tendons creak and groan.

"Careful," she warns, putting her hand behind my back to help me up. Olive then hands me a ¾ full cup of freshly squeezed orange juice, maybe from the oranges Glenn dragged in yesterday, and lays a napkin concealing a sugar cookie on my lap. "Take things slow."

"Ah, my damn head." I press my palm to my forehead, feeling that my hair is a absolute mess. "The hell…"

Olive clears her throat and holds the orange juice out to me. I take it shakily and as her hand hovers close to the glass, I take a wobbly sip. It's citrusy and tangy, but has just enough sugar to make the aftertaste sweet. "Thanks," I mutter, staring into the cup. Now that I look at the woman, she does look like her sister. I imagine what Millie must have looked like before her body sat decomposing. She probably would have had the same high cheekbones and I know her hands are the same; soft and little. Olive is a pretty small person, maybe 'bout five feet three inches, but I wouldn't doubt she could do more pull-ups than me. Those arms are toned and just muscular enough to tell.

"It's the least I can do." She says softly, trying to avoid eye contact by pretending to have to brush her hair back. it is done in a braid in the back with pieces left out in the front, and the hair tie is right at her neck so her curls are like a ponytail at the end of the braid. "All that you've done… for her."

I look up and catch her eyes. They are the color of limp celery, with small gilded flecks. "Gotta give what ya got if it's all ya can give." Another Emily-ism. I pick up the sugar cookie and take a bite. "I hope you'll be with your sister again soon."

"Well, she's all I have…" she says softly. "I've just been praying she'll get through this. That they all will."

Praying. Another thing I don't really do. "Olive, I gotta get a shower, my hair's a beehive."

"Of course. I'll go and take care of these." She swipes the empty glass of orange juice and crumb-filled napkin. "In that condition, someone should at least stand outside the shower." She says awkwardly. "I could…"

"No, I'm sure I'll be fine, just find someone…" I mutter, climbing out of bed. As I swing my legs over, the floor feels like the sea, and I think for a moment that I've toppled over. I regain my balance with Olive's hand on my arm, and scuffle slowly and safely over to my drawers. I'm a wreck, and feel like shit, but if Devil wants me this early in the morning, so be it. I won't complain too much.

"Get your things around, and I'll send someone in." she promises, rubbing my back once and disappearing. I rifle in my drawers until I can find a pair of pants that aren't ripped too bad, and a cleanish tank top and shirt to throw over it.

"Wow, if I would have known you looked this good in the morning."

I reel around and feel my head throbbing with pain. My eyes sear white, but I can make out dumbass Tidan standing in the doorway. God, Olive! Tidan! Really!? He just chuckles and watches me struggle.

"Stop being such an asshole and help me out, I can barely even see." I roll my blind eyes and feel him slip his arm into mine. He feels incredibly warm, so I kinda cuddle close to him. He feels so good, and smells of Big Red, just like I remember. "Mmm…"

"What?" he whispers.

"You're warm."

His body rumbles with chuckles. "I see how it is, kiss a guy, run off in the woods with another one."

"It isn't like that, dickweed." I try to push him, but his arm is around me too tight. "Daryl's – too Daryl for me. And you should know I don't… feel for him. I feel for another guy."

"Yeah, and who's that?"

"I don't know, I'll tell you when I find out."

He sighs. "I'll just stand outside the showers, kay?"

I step onto the cold tile of the locker room showers and let my clothes drop on the floor. "I want you oughta here while I get in, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear." He says, turning in a half circle. I pull my clothes off, stumbling around and leaving a trail. "You in yet?"

I start the water and hold my freezing hand under it to feel the temperature. "Not yet, hold on." I step in, shivering at my cold skin under the warm water. "Okay, I'm in, Messenger Boy."

I can almost hear him smiling at I comb my fingers through my hair under the water. For a while, the only sound in here is the sound of water hitting the tile on the floor of the shower. I wonder if he's still there.

"Paige?"

"What…" I mutter, squirting a bit of conditioner in my hair.

"I think we should… talk. About… you know, our… the other day."

"So… what about it."

He is quiet for a long time again. "Do you really… feel…"

I laugh. "Of course I do."

I wonder if he does his own sort of touchdown dance, but I doubt it. He's not that kind of guy. "So…"

"Tidan… I like you. Okay? I don't know how, and who the hell paired us together, but… Tidan… I think there's a lot going on right now, and…" I let the water flow over my body, biting my lip.

"I get it."

"I know, you do. You get a lot of things. How does it feel to get to me like no one ever has before…"

"Feels good."

"Look… my feelings for you are – are… they just are. But right now… ain't the best time, let's put it that way."

"I told you, I get it." I can hear the sigh in his voice. "Whatever makes you happy."

"Thanks." I say softly. "I'm getting out, turn around, okay?"

"Yeah, got it." I step out of the shower and dry off, pulling my jeans on awkwardly on my wet legs. I work quickly in my ill state to get my clothes on, and finally succeed, combing through my hair. Tidan just watches. We don't talk again when Olive comes to retrieve me.

"Thanks, honey." She pats his arm and helps me outside. The sun is yet to rise entirely, but the light stings my eyes, causing them to throb painfully. I blink a million times in hope that it'll get better, but it doesn't. "Nice and easy." She says, helping me across the yard. The smokehouse looks ten miles from here.

"Your sister," I don't know if I'll regret bringing it up. "She looks like you."

Olive smiles, but sadly. "Mom always used to say we looked like twins. So did a lot of people. Of course, she doesn't have these," she motions to her large hips and tiny body and giggles softly. "She always called them my childbearing hips. Said whenever I walked into a room, guys were dying to have sex with me 'cause of them."

I snigger, but my head throbs. "I need a belt, my hips aren't doing their job. I've never been able to keep my pants up."

She smiles in the dim morning light. "She's always funny like that… making a joke out of everything. I lived in North Carolina with my boyfriend of five years… Millie came to live with us when she went to college. We didn't mind, we both loved her like hell. Then things started getting bad, and we knew we had to get out of the state, to look for somewhere safer. Lost Gavin, my boyfriend along the way. So, Millie's all I have, now. If I can even still have her."

"If this works, you will." I say.

"I pray that it works. Every day."

I stop walking. "What the hell is it with you people and prayin'? What makes you believe there's a God up there if he did this to the world? He destroyed everything, and you people can still pray to someone like that? What makes you think he'll even answer if he didn't answer the others. He doesn't care about it."

Olive smooths her hands down her middle. "Well… that's a good question. I've always had religion. Always went to church, and read the Bible when it seemed appropriate. But I think it's 'cause He must've brought us here. Mill and I prayed we'd find somewhere safe, and we did. That's a reason to believe."

"He killed your sister, then. He put her in agony, then killed her."

"But I prayed again, and you arrived." She speaks softly, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Honey, you might not always feel Him, and you might not always be happy with him, but all prayers are eventually answered. God brought you to us."

"But he killed Beth…" I mutter.

"He has a plan for us all. That was what her blueprint had, so it had to happen. Even if you don't believe in Him, then you know that it had to be, right?" she rubs my shoulder. "Come on, let's get you in to Devil."

She leads me to the smokehouse, a long walk, while I think. I don't think everyone has a plan. Everyone has a cruel death, and I don't even know if they go anywhere. Some people seem to still believe in all that religion shit, but I have no clue…

"Well, here you are." Olive says, staring at the door.

"You're not going to come in?"

"No. I never do." She says, rubbing her arm at the slight chill in the air.

"Don't you want to… see your sister? Devil says she's doing better." I mumble, scuffing my toe on the ground.

"I – do… just… I'm deathly afraid of those… carriers. Those things."

"It's alright." I offer her my hand and open the door. "She isn't going to hurt you."

Olive hesitates, then takes my outstretched hand. She actually kind of has to help me walk, so I kind of show her which way to go to the back where Devil does his work, in the edition. When I "lead" her to the small hallway with the cells, she starts to careen back into me, but I shake my head at her. "They won't hurt you." I promise, and she gulps, taking a few meager steps. It's strange to say, but the walkers in the cells do look a little – lifelike. Like something has turned a switch in their brain, turned the light on, and breathed a little life into them. I stop at one of the cells, wrapping my hand around one bar staring in at an older lad I recognize from the few times I've given Devil blood. He slowly gets up and crosses to the bars where Olive and I stand. She backs away, frightened. I shake my head and let the man cross over. With a slight groan forming on his lips, he reaches out and touches his fingers to mine, wrapped around the bar to hold myself up. I smile at him. Olive continues to stare.

"Long time, no see." I whisper to the guy, who somewhat smiles. He tries to form a word on his lips.

"N-n-n-"

"Shh." I tell him, rubbing his bony, fragile, rotten fingers. "It's okay."

"N-n-n-ot-t-t t-t-oo l-o-o-ng." he gasps out, panting at the effort. I smile lightly.

"No, it's only been a few days."

He tries to smile again.

"D-did he just… talk?" Olive whispers in my ear.

"Something is clicking in their minds." I say, walking her down the hall again. My head pounds, and I feel like shit. "Something is making them – wake up."

"I – thought for sure they… died, when they changed."

"I thought so too." I say, pushing open the door to the addition, where Devil does his work. He turns around, blocking the soft chair that I usually sit in when we get the deed done.

"Olive," he smiles broadly. "I'm glad you're here." he turns to me. "Paige… I have something to show you."

He moves out of the way of the chair, and there sits incredibly fragile Millie. Her hair falls over her face messily, and her hands look like an old woman's, shriveled, with chunks missing, rotted. She smiles painfully, her still heart-shaped lips pulling back. "Sis?" she says in barely above a whisper. Olive stares at her for a while, then kneels on the ground.

"Baby, baby, it's okay. I'm here now… I'm here, Olive's here." she takes her friable hand and tucks it between both of hers, choking on her sobs. "I'm here now, baby… I'm here."

"It's okay." Whispers Millie as I stare. "It's okay, Ollie."

"I'm so so sorry. I didn't come to – I didn't know, I – I… oh, God," she sobs into the rotten hand. "Oh, God, forgive me… I am sorry. Forgive me."

Millie places her hand on her sister's cheek. "Chin up, Ol. I'm here, now."

I look up at Devil, who stares down at me. "You – you did it. You woke her up." I whisper.

"Amazing." He whispers back and emaciated Millie talks to her sister for the first time in months. I close my eyes and sway back and forth, feeling like I could just pass out like this, right here. Devil takes my arm. "Are you alright?"

"Don't be afraid," whispers Petey as he leans in. His face is shadowed by darkness, the velvety skin clothed in the cloak of night. I blink as his eyelashes brush against my forehead.

"Petey…" I whisper, my head falling softly as a feather on the back seat of the car. "I don't know…"

"Shh," says the man, tucking my bottom lip between both of his and softly kissing. I am still for a moment as he kisses my bottom lip, my top lip, under my nose, and my chin. I wrap my arm around his neck and let the tears fall slowly and freely over my cheeks. "Gonna be okay, Paige."

"I know it is." I kiss the side of his nose, and then pull him into me. We kiss with our lips locked tightly together, because we are all each other have to fight for. When we separate, our foreheads touch together, and his breath comes out two mixed streams of air on my face.

"I love you, little girl." He says, his warm breath tickling my ear like a dandelion.

"I love you." I whisper, the words foreign on my lips. I don't know if I've ever said them before. I don't know if I've ever really felt any love for anyone before.

"I think I'm going to be." I say softly, opening my eyes again. "I'm going to be just fine now."

Well? I know, not the best, but it is kind of a set-up thing, ya know? Like I said, I PROMISE you that the next couple chapters will be MUCH better if you thought this one was bad. I would love to have some comments on how I could improve, what you would like to see happen and such, so thank you to ya'll!

~Lizzy