Disclaimer: Not mine, doesn't that just suck? : 3

Notes: Updated 4/8 for typos/wording

Chapter Seven

(Fin's POV)

"Arms higher; you want this arm level with the ground for a straight shot." I grab Carl's elbow lift it higher so the arrow is almost level with his cheekbone.

"Like this?"

"Yup now pull back, just a bit," He pulls his hand back the pulleys on the bow spin. "And let go." He does; the arrow is widely off the mark.

He frowns instantly looking dejected. "That sucked."

I'm sure he's thinking of Daryl's marksmanship.

"Hey it takes practice, just like a gun. There might not be recoil to deal with, but you need to build up the arm muscles to keep the bow steady; and pull the string back without moving your aim."

He grabs another arrow, fumbles to nock it with his fingers. Raises the bow to level again and pulls back. I don't have to correct his elbow this time.

The arrow sticks in the mattress about two feet left of the target.

"See? Better already, You have lots of time to practice. That's going to be one of your jobs right? You guys can't just hang around and eat all my food while I'm gone. I want you to shoot 100 of these everyday okay?"

I hear Daryl climb back up the ladder from the store room behind us. I don't turn to look at him, Carl glances at him before turning back to me again.

"I can shoot more than that." Carl grabs another arrow; eager to prove his point.

"You're building new muscles, and new muscle memories. Do it 100 times, correctly. That's way more important than shooting for hours and getting nowhere. Might as well throw the arrows at them that way."

He nods after a moment. "Okay,"

"You be alright if I leave you?" He nods again grabs another arrow eager to get it right. "Good, I'm going to help Beth."

Kids going to be sore as crap tomorrow; he'll be lucky if he can raise his arms above his shoulders... I head to the ladder, note that Daryl is wearing the new clothing I laid out for him earlier. It's a decent fit…he's already cut the sleeves off the grey t-shirt I left for him.

At least he's clean.

"If you have any pointers for him, now would be the time."

He's watching Carl nock another arrow, send it down range. "Nah, looks like you covered the basics."

I grab the ladder rungs, start to climb up to the top where I left Rick and Beth. Daryl follows me without further comment. There's no way Rick will be able to climb downstairs for a while, so I'll have to make some changes up here.

Rick barely made it onto the roof without passing out. I'm a little concerned that his ribs are more severely broken then I thought. But there's little I can do about it. I find Beth still sitting next to Rick, take her downstairs to get a clean change of clothes from what there is available and show her where to get cleaned up, she's excited about the soap options at least.

I return to the top floor several minutes later with two changes of clothes and bathing supplies to find Daryl and Rick sitting around the empty fire pit, someone has start a fire; probably Daryl.

"What's in the sheds?" Rick nods his head towards the closest one.

"One of them is my bedroom." I kneel down and go through the steps to heat water for Rick to use. "The rest are storage right now, but I'll clear them out so you can sleep somewhere with a little privacy."

That's hard to come by these days, especially in a home with few walls.

"How'd you get them up here?" Daryl doesn't look at my face when he asks; keeps his eyes on my hands, watching as I pull things together for Rick's bruises and assorted cuts.

"They came in boxes, like most of the things in this warehouse; so I pulled them up here piece by piece and put them together."

Rick turns back to me silent for a moment. "That must have been difficult."

"Yeah it was, the directions were written in China." That gets a grin out of Rick at least.

Daryl helps me pull boxes out of two of the shed containers and stack them against the far wall once the water is starting to heat. He's silent the whole time, even when I almost run into him coming back through the door to grab another box. It doesn't take long with two people, which is good since he can't seem to stand my presence for longer then a few minutes. Most of the big stuff is downstairs due to the weight and space anyways, they'll go through most of these items quickly with the three of them while we're gone. Hopefully we'll be back before Carl or Beth have to try and carry more food items up from the lower level. Those boxes are heavy and awkward on the ladders. As soon as we're done clearing out the space, and pulling in two new mattresses I send Rick into the cleared out little house with hot water, wash clothes poultice and a change of clothes so he too can get cleaned up.

Carl comes back from shooting while Rick is gone, Beth is with him now wearing clean clothes her blonde hair still wet. I send Carl downstairs to get cleaned up with the clean clothing I found for him to change into after. He's more excited then I expect about the new fleece jacket and fresh sweat pants.

The warehouse sold a few clothing items; jeans, shirts, socks, tennis shoes, fleece jackets and ridiculously: bathing suits. None of it is particularly stylish, I sleep in some of it, but most of my clothing is from the outdoor sports warehouse next door. I'll have to bring Carl something better when I go...Daryl could use new pants too, his old pair is more holes then not...

I spend the next two hours showing Beth how to prepare the food I have on hand for them while I'm gone. She's a quick learner and obviously a good cook with far more than basic skills in a kitchen when it comes to raw ingredients like the corn flour, powdered milk and dried rice and beans that make up a large portion of my diet because that's what the warehouse was full of. She tells me she grew up on a farm as we work: handy skills to have.

I tell Rick when he comes back that I need to go out for a while. There are a few things I still need before we leave tomorrow that I don't have here.

He doesn't look happy about it but it was part of my agreement with them.

I slip up to the roof, weave through the tiny greenhouse's I've built from nailed together window panes taken from the nearby neighborhood construction sites. They're empty now, since winter is coming. The rooftop is now scattered with empty earth filled pots under each one. Pots once used to hold useless household plants for sale in the warehouse, plants long dead after I found the place, but the soil was good. And combining them with the seeds meant plenty of fresh carrots, tomatoes, green onions, potatoes and peppers, now that there's more people I'll probably have to figure out how to turn up some of the grass around the parking lot and grow things there as well.

I climb down the ladder, jump to the roof of the container and down to the pavement.

I don't bother with my bow, I only took it for show.

I take off in a quick jog across the lot, straight to the backdoor of the second warehouse. It's much darker inside here without the skylights to illuminate the back of the store. I know where I'm going though, and I removed the few Walkers that were in here ages ago. Stumbling over them in the dark was still enough to make my heart race. I quickly find what I'm looking for with a flashlight once I've found the correct department. I grab the items I need, stuff them into my satchel and head back.

I've barely been gone twenty minutes but Daryl is standing on the roof looking pissed when I climb back up the ladder.

"The Hell you think you're doing sneaking out like that?" He's pacing back and forth, crossbow in one hand.

"I didn't sneak out, I told Rick I'd be right back." I don't have to explain myself to him.

He just keeps glaring at me. "The Hell was so important it couldn't wait?"

I yank open my pack shoving the package into his stomach with more force then necessary. He takes a step back looks down at it, takes it from my hand still staring at it; obviously not sure what to do.

"New string and clips for your damn crossbow." God only knows the last time he's been able to change them.

I leave him standing there before he can say anything else. Jerk.

:: Walking Dead ::

I check on Rick and the other two the second I'm back downstairs, ignoring Daryl completely when he comes back down the ladder behind me.

Beth is already making some of the food I showed her earlier; explaining to Carl how to do it as she goes.

I head downstairs myself to get cleaned up, it's dusk already, and I'm tired. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Lots of ground to cover. I shower, change into fresh clothes: another pair of Cargo pants, tank top and long dark sleeves. Normally I'd be putting on something to sleep in at this hour...but I'm still not sure I trust these people enough to wander around in sweat pants a t-shirt and bare feet.

I braid my hair again in the dark before returning to the group.

I'm not hiding I tell myself. That would be silly. But it has been a long time since I spent so much time with other people. It's stressful. Especially people this intense.

I'd forgotten how difficult interacting with other people could be.

When I climb upstairs again I'm surprised to find Daryl using what little light there is left in the room to sift through the books I've gathered from the store, and the local library.

As I stand behind him I realize he's holding a specific book in his hands; though how he managed to find that one I have no idea. Lots of them are romance novels and works of fiction—something I can't imagine him picking up to even read the back cover on so I guess it makes sense he found the old survival manual my Uncle gave me years ago.

He's staring at the first page. Obviously found the inscription I have memorized by now, the last thing I have from my family—a few faded and smeared words on a book cover.

"Seraphim—Walk in the Light of God, and judge all you do by his words. Trust in him your life, and your faith. And when the world goes to shit, knowing this stuff couldn't hurt either. I hope you never have need of it.

God Bless,

-Uncle Darion"

I'd been 13 the year he'd gifted me with it. My step father hadn't approved of the exact language as a Pastor; but he'd told me it was excellent advice anyway.

I'd spent almost every summer, spring break or other vacation as a kid camping, fishing and hiking with my three cousins around my Uncle's home in the foot hills of West Virginia.

My mother would drive us up from South Carolina and drop me off every time; she'd stay a few days herself and then head off on her yearly mission work with my Stepdad Phil.

I never missed them when they were gone, not even a little; too busy running wild trying to keep up with three boys twice my size.

I vividly remember my mother had actually let me take my little brother Tobin who was barely 5 at the time to camp in the backyard for almost every weekend that fall to practice everything the book said. He'd been too young for the boy scouts at the time or to join in on the long overnight trips we'd take in the woods over the summer and he'd loved every minute of it. Especially when Mom brought us hot chocolate after dark.

My chest suddenly feels very tight.

God, I missed them.

I was lucky to have them in my life while I did.

I clear my throat. "Hey," He doesn't exactly jump when I speak. "Food's probably almost ready."

He just stares at me like I'm not speaking English.

Okay.

I turn and leave him to whatever it is he's doing.

I have two bags to pack still.

:: walking dead ::