After the funeral had finished, Daryl reverted back to his old ways. He quickly disassembled his tent and moved his lone-wolf ass as far away from the Greene's home as possible, finding himself a nice quiet spot off in the fields. Once his own private camp had been set up, the Redneck made it an interest of his to start making new bolts for his crossbow. The last time he had used it he had one left and that wasn't going to do anybody any good. In order to start working on such a tedious task, Daryl had to find himself sticks that were suitable enough to serve as an arrow. So, off he went to gather wood for his bow and for his campfire later.

During the early evening hours the Redneck had begun prepping the sticks and smoothing them out with his hunting knife. During this time is when Rick's wife had the nerve of coming to him, disturbing his serenity-setup, and ask him to go on a one-man searching party for Rick and the others. Having no interest whatsoever to help with the group anymore, Daryl was quick to deny her request, to which she responded with, "Why are you so selfish?"

This was the absolute worst thing she could have said to him. Selfish? HIM? Daryl resisted from his desire to slit the dumb bitch's throat there as he jumped to his feet and waved his hunting knife at her as he yelled at her, as if this would further make his point. Once he had finished his typical tantrum he sat himself back down, leaving no room for an argument as he muttered, "I'm done lookin' for people."

By the time night had come, Carol had made her way over to Daryl's campsite. She made a feeble attempt at amends as she expressed to Daryl that she wouldn't let him push her away, or any of the group at that matter. She resisted his usual fit of rage and allowed the Redneck to let out some of his inner frustrations about everything that he had been holding back. Once he had finished the two came to an awkward silenced, which caused Daryl to turn his back to the woman once again, as he silently stalked off to disappear somewhere else.

"He still won't talk, huh?" Glenn inquired as Carol stepped back around the fire. Nora's jaw clenched in anger for Carol and sympathy for Daryl. The woman could grieve as much as she wished. But to take such sour words towards a man who had laid his faith and heart on the line for her and her daughter. Sure, Daryl Dixon was nowhere near saintly, but he had a heart; no matter how bruised, calloused and stitched it was, it was still there. Carol did naught but mangle it a bit more with her hateful expressions.

"He's still angry." She murmured meekly. Nora scoffed.

"Let 'im feel da way 'e feels. Sophia's death is still fresh to 'im." She noted as she stood, meeting Carol's hurting eyes. "'E'll come around, lass." That said, she turned on her heel and proceeded to Daryl's campsite.

She had spotted him leaving the scene when she had come back from hunting. Carol must have gone for a walk before she stole a seat next to Glenn. No matter. She would just have to sit and wait for him to return.

Curiously, her eyes roved over the "meditation" center. Her glowing blue eyes fell lazily upon the small stack of straight sticks and makeshift arrows in progress. She took a deep breath, held it... then released as she settled on the ground next to the pile, beginning to finish Daryl's little project.

If she was going to invade his personal space, she might as well make herself useful.

An hour had passed before Daryl finally found himself back at his campsite. He had nothing new with him, which made it clear that he had just disappeared for the sake of avoiding human contact for a while. Though, his luck was of no use this night apparently, for as soon as he got close enough he noticed the petite Irish woman seated before his campfire, working diligently on the pile of arrows he had started earlier. But that didn't seem to matter to him as he ignored her efforts, his voice strident with irritation as he came within earshot of Nora. "The hell does it take for'a man ta get some privacy 'round here!" The question was rhetorical, as he had no desire to really hear a response from the woman. He swiftly moved past her to busy himself with some things over by his motorcycle, giving it his best efforts to appear callous and uninterested in anything she may have wished to say to him.

Nora had opened her mouth several times, sorely tempted to come up with some witty retort. And she had quite a few building up within her from his outburst alone.

She bit her tongue. Literally. The last thing Daryl needed was another confrontation and she was not in any mood to give him the satisfaction of another verbal brawl. No... now it was time to simply... be there. She had amends to make so did he. Nora would do her very best to be the one to help.

Her eyes never wavered from the task at hand, still unsure of how to approach the subject of his grieving. As she was unprepared, simply sitting in silence seemed like a decent idea.

That was... if she could hold her tongue.

Daryl was aware of the fact that she hadn't moved and it bugged him. Her very presence was enough to make him feel suffocated. He felt like an animal in a cage, cornered by a larger animal that threatening to rip him apart and expose everything that he kept buried deep on the inside.

He paused from digging around the bag strapped to the side of his motorcycle, his eyes wandering to rest upon Nora as she silently continued to work on the bolts. Daryl exhaled heavily through his nose, his eyes squinting as he coldly spoke, "This ain't no pow-wow. Why don't ya take your sorry ass n' leave already?"

Good. Let him feel suffocated. This was Nora's way of helping him face his inner turmoil, as opposed to burying it all the way to the bottom. Her head lowered as he shot his stinging remark at her, allowing a wall of raven hair to block his sight from her eyes. She could feel everything beginning to resurface... everything that she had sworn she wouldn't let loose around anybody else.

But that was the problem. Daryl was just like her and she knew... she knew what it was like to bury everything inside until you lashed out on the wrong people. Hence why she figured she was the woman for such a job as this. Lori certainly wouldn't understand. Hell, the dumb bitch had come up and asked him to go find Rick and his dumbass Chinaman directly after they had found Sophia dead. The woman didn't think about anyone but herself.

Nora blinked back a few tears, only to see that the arrow she'd been widdling was so bent and crooked from her lack of attention that it was essentially useless. She glanced over to Daryl to ensure he wasn't looking, then tossed it aside and began to properly focus on another one to keep her mind off of her anger and resentment to his words.

He pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing more as he noticed her silent withdraw. The way she had allowed her hair to fall just right in her face to shield herself from his view. Daryl wasn't stupid. He was far from it and anyone with half a brain would know that. It was because of his uncertainy of how to handle social situations and not knowing how to connect with others easily that kept him at a distance and seemed to make people mistake lack of involvement for stupidity. His eyes moved to look at the crooked stick that she tossed aside and watched as she gathered up a new one to begin working on. It was then that he realized just exactly what was going on. Something so small and that others might have overlooked but not him.

Daryl stared after in silence for a moment, his teeth nibbling lightly on the inside of his bottom lip as he thought. He averted his gaze to look down at his hand that was rested upon the closed bag. His eyes moved once again to rest upon the Irish woman as they squinted. It was as if he was contemplating and struggling at the same time. What he did and did not want to do. What he knew he could do and what he knew he could choose not to do. Daryl exhaled again through his nose as he silently moved across the field to station himself across the fire from Nora. He knelt down to collect a couple of his unfinished bolts and then seated himself on the edge of the ruins that was located just off to the side of her and the campfire. He removed his hunting knife from its cover and silently began working on it. Every now and again his eyes lifting to look at Nora, almost in an empathetic way, before they returned to focusing upon the wooden stick in his hand.

Nora froze when she heard shuffling around her. Her sensitive ears perked and she watched him out of the corner of her eye through the wave of her raven locks. She quickly brushed stray tears away from her eyes and put on her brave face for good measure. It wasn't until he had settled himself across from her that Nora's eyes flashed directly to him. Curiosity riddled her gaze before he had plucked up a few stray, unfinished arrows and began working on them.

No harsh words, no hatred and no lashing out. Simply a comforting silence that seemed to hug her very soul. Now and again, their eyes would meet in an awkward level of understanding. There was a certain solace in this moment, she thought to herself as her eyes shifted back to the arrow in her hands, which was beginning to take mold perfectly. She said nothing, merely allowing the calming nature of his presence consume her and time itself.