The next day.

"That's a pretty scarf." Amy said as she sat next to Len by the fire, smiling her cute smile.

"Thanks." Len said as she subconsciously adjusted it around her neck.

"Where'd you get it?" Len glanced at her and looked back at the fire, prodding a few logs with a long stick.

"India." She replied, her eyes then reverted to the book that sat in her lap. Amy knitted her brows in confusion and glanced around the camp as Carol, Lori, Carl, Jim, Jaqui, Dale, and Andrea all watched her shallow attempt at conversation with the new woman who still refused to engage in any conversation lasting longer than thirty seconds. Amy's lips formed an awkward line and she nodded her head as she walked back to the group.

"Forget it, Amy, she's not gonna talk to any of us for a while." Dale assured her as he and Daryl shared a look. He sighed as he stopped his carving, rolling his eyes as he walked over to Len.

And just as Daryl approached her she made eye contact and maintained it as she stood and walked past him. He grunted, paused, and followed her.

"Hey!" He yelled after her but Len kept walking. "Hey! You need t' quit bein'-"

Suddenly Len turned around and got right in Daryl's face.

"You. Tell your little camp mates to stop staring at me like I'm some kind of circus sideshow—"

"Well maybe if ya'd stop actin' like one—"

"They're askin' me questions—" She rambled.

"These people are scared, they hardly trust each other, they ain't gonna warm so easily to a stranger much less one that ain't willin' to have a conversation—"

"They why the fuck did you bring me here?!"

"Because someone like you will die out there on your own!" He yelled in her face, breathing heavily in held anger. Len stepped back, eyes wide.

"You don't know that."

"Nobody can make it on their own, not even you. You need to get that through your thick, girly skull and get off your fuckin' high horse and—" And then there was blood running down Daryl's chin as he clutched his nose. Len had clocked him harder than he'd ever been hit, harder than his brother. The pain brought tears to his eyes. He breathed out, sputtering out the blood and glanced at her. She was breathing heavily but showed no signs of remorse. "You feel better now?"

Len closed her eyes and breathed in, stretching out her fingers. "...Yes."

"Good. 'Cause I ain't lettin' ya get away with that shit again. Now c'mon, it's gettin' dark."

Len nodded slowly and walked forward with Daryl following behind. He walked slowly next to her, watching her all the way back, trying to gage her emotions as he held his hand up to his nose to catch the blood. When they arrived back at the camp Len was already rushing to the tent and he tried to avoid eye contact with everyone as he passed them, a bit embarrassed that he was still bleeding from her punch, a little more embarrassed that they all knew it was Len that did it.

He met Len at the tent as she tossed him a rag and he sarcastically smiled, pushing it up against nose as she lit the fire.

No one had ever spoken to Len that way. Len wasn't offended by what he said, nor should she have been, but she hit him anyway, because she felt like it. Right then Daryl knew that Len was meant for this world, almost like he was.

Four hours later.

It began to grow dark and Len refrained from saying any words to Daryl while he glanced at her every other minute, never catching her gaze once. He watched her flip through a worn, leather bound notebook and sigh, rubbing her hands over her eyes.

"You gotta problem?" Lennon jumped slightly and shook her head, "What's 'at?"

Len fanned some of the pages and closed it.

"It's a prayer book." She said as she passed it to him. He set his bowl and spoon aside quickly and grabbed it.

Inside the thin tissue-like pages were hand written sanskrit, every page covered from top to bottom. But on the corner there was a large red-brown stain, a blood stain.

"You a Buddhist or somethin'?"

"Or somethin'." She repeated quietly to herself. Daryl handed the book back to her.

"Tell me 'bout it?"

Len sighed, knowing what he was asking of her.

"Before this all happened I lived in India for six years under the roof of a Buddhist temple in Nepal. I was a house guest for two years before I started studying under Sha-Kaganesh—the abbot of the temple. Four years under his words; the peace, the love...the prayer was all we needed. Kaganesh's main priority, though, was to teach non-violence. To approach a situation with peace and care. But when the city became infected it was only a matter of hours before they hit the temple. And you know what they all did?"

"They didn't fight back." Daryl whispered, seeing the pain in her eyes.

"They sat and meditated while the moaners took each of them out, one by one."

"But not you."

"I took up in the main prayer room with a shotgun and a cricket bat and waited until morning. When I walked out everyone was dead...their blood, their guts were everywhere, but there were no cries, only acceptance." Len began tearing pages from the book and throwing them in the fire, "The entire temple, all but one...it took a lot of will power to kill the Kaganesh...the despicable irony of it all made me sick. I was disgusted with myself having killed the one man who believed in me, even if he wasn't the same man. That was when I realized it was all bullshit." Daryl chuckled, "I wouldn't be alive without violence, and now sometimes I think I am a bit more peaceful than I was before."

Daryl's head almost hurt with such a heavy story, but suddenly something didn't make sense.

"How'd you get over here?" He asked.

Len itched her temple, fiddling with the dish in her lap. "Oh, I—uh, stole a plane."

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me." His jaw dropped.

"I would never."

"You know how to fly a plane?" He asked, remaining skeptical.

"I do now." She laughed.

"That's one hell of a story, girl."

"What about yours?"

"Mine? I don't have much of a story, just me and my brother fightin' for our lives when it happened."

"And where is he now?" She asked, careful not to step on any toes.

Daryl glanced under his brow at Rick who sat across camp. Len noticed but didn't say anything.

"He's missin'. Could be dead, I dunno."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Honestly I'm a little more indifferent to it than I lead on, why do you care?" Len just stared at him, and he sighed, "I loved my brother but he was an asshole...Listen, I don' think I apologized for how I treated ya when we—"

"It's fine. It was a dick thing to do but I would have done the same thing to someone who looked like I did." Len laughed, finally picking up her plate and eating. She then began laughing.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for punching you." Daryl chuckled.

"You punch harder than my brother, and Merle's the hardest mother fucker I know."

"Now the second, right?" Len smirked at him and he chuckled, finishing his small dinner. He stood and began to grab his bow and load his gun. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go on watch."

"Oh." Len said as she watched him leave. She looked down at her plate and suddenly felt extremely disgusted. She sighed and pulled her legs up into the chair and wrapped herself up in her arms and observed the entire camp. Len was so tired, she hadn't slept the night before, too nervous that something was going to happen, but nothing did. She felt foolish for thinking that it would, but not illogical. Something bad always happened when she was on her own. But maybe that's what Daryl had meant, in some way. On her own she had just her and only herself. But now there were men out on watch to protect her while she got a little rest. Why hadn't she realized this before?