"That was my deer!" he exclaimed, kicking the biter off. The others dealt with it while Daryl mourned his hunt.
"I'd been tracking that for miles." he sighed. He pulled an arrow out of it, cleaned the blood off of it and then looked at the deer again. Two women retched as they watched the men beat the biter to death.
"D'you think we could just cut around it?"
"I wouldn't risk it." The Sheriff said, not really caring about the loss of the meat.
'Hmmph,' I thought to myself. 'He's obviously not a big venison fan. But he'll have to be soon.' My stomach growled, and I hit my head against the tree. I was sure they'd heard.
I watched as Daryl's eyes flicked over to the tree I was hiding behind. I bit my lip and held my breath, but he looked away. He was the only one to have noticed any movement, and that was more than lucky. If anyone was going to find me out, I wanted it to be Daryl. And what a coincidence he was here! Where was Merle? Maybe they'd gone to Atlanta and got caught up, and Darly only just escaped with his life..
I shut my mind off and concentrated on the men and women surrounding the deer, not feet away from my hiding spot. They talked for a while, glared at the biter and then walked back off to their camp, Daryl following at the back of the group. I sighed with relief, realising I'd got away with it, when I suddenly got cramp in my foot and stretched out my leg as quietly as I could. My foot got caught in the leaves and Daryl's ears pricked up to the sound. He paced towards the tree, crossbow at the ready.
'Here we go..' I thought to myself.