Daryl shook his head. "Naw. Higher."

Liz hesitated before answering. "I can't."

"C'mon. Higher," Daryl's voice came from behind her.

Liz clicked her tongue and held the bow he'd made for her higher. "Are you sure? It'll go too high. Arrow's pointing way over the target now!" She and Daryl had set up a stack of hay bales to shoot at for her first archery lesson.

Carl was watching from the porch, pouting that Rick said he couldn't learn to shoot yet. Shane had stalked off to guard the barn full of walkers again, disgusted at his new duty as well as at the fact that his sister was spending her time with the redneck.

Daryl scoffed. "It ain' goin'ta miss. Listen. Arm at eye level. Bring the string to your nose."

"Are you sure it won't hit me in the face?" Liz asked apprehensively. "Can you shoot arrows backward? Oh, God. You're putting a lot of trust in me with this thing."

"It ain' goin' to hit you in the face!" Daryl groaned. "You goin'ta let me train you or not?"

"Ooh, training," Liz repeated. "So serious. I feel like a real archer now. Okay, okay, let's be serious. I want to learn." She glanced back at him and flashed a smile.

Daryl's breath caught in his chest and insecurity washed over him. He quickly pushed it away. This wasn't the old world and it didn't matter who she was. So maybe she'd been on all the late night shows. So maybe he'd wondered what she was REALLY like, as he sat at home on the couch with a beer in his hand and his eyes glues to the TV screen. All that mattered was whether or not she could defend herself against the walkers. No one else seemed to care too much about making her independent; Rick had bigger things to worry about and Shane wasn't interested in making anyone need him less.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then exhaled and stepped behind Liz. "Here. First of all, turn to the side," he muttered, lightly touching her hips and swiveling her around. He covered her hand on the bow with his. "Higher," he continued as he corrected her position. Finally, he reached around and touched the underside of her forearm. "Keep this level."

"This feels," Liz paused and struggled for a word. "Different." Her heart hammered in her chest at how close Daryl was to her. When they'd first met at the camp off the highway, he'd driven her crazy with his back woods ways. She'd hated his motorcycle, his accent, and especially his brother. But now she was surprised to find that of everyone in camp, Daryl was the only one she seemed to click with besides the Grimeses. He didn't seem to have any
ulterior motives besides watching out for the group, and that was a relief to her, especially considering Shane had gone off the deep end with lust for power.

Daryl cleared his throat nervously but didn't release her arms. "Pull back. I'll tell you when to stop." He corrected Liz's stance slightly as she pulled the string back. "Too hard for you to draw back?" he asked when he saw her arm tremble.

"No," Liz said, slowly guiding the string back to the starting position. "Just, ah," she hesitated and giggled. "Nervous."

Daryl released her and stepped back. "Everyone in the country knows who you are. You tour around doin' shows and you're always on the TV and this is makin' you nervous?"

Liz giggled and shrugged. Her cheeks were hot, and she knew it wasn't from the sun. "Different strokes for different folks. Show me again. You're right. All there is to be nervous about is the walkers."

Daryl stood behind her again, positioning her arms correctly. "Higher; there. Perfect. Eye level, see? Ain' gonna do any good to shoot a walker in the belly. You'll have good range. You'll be able'ta shoot them before they get anywhere close." He caught the scent of her hair and paused, the thought popping into his head once again. Liz Clark was mere inches away from him. Visions of the tattoo on the small of her back flashed through his head. He looked down and saw black ink from her thigh tattoo peeking out from under her shorts. The center fold photos of her he'd committed to memory didn't mean anything now, yet he couldn't push them out of his head. She's ain't a pin-up anymore; just someone who needs you to teach her to protect herself, he reminded himself.

"Good," Liz replied. She leaned back slightly and felt his body against hers. It was solid - like leaning against a warm brick wall. "Oh," she whispered. "Sorry." She straightened up and held the bow higher. "Like this, right?"

Daryl released her and backed away. "Yup. Draw back the string to your nose, and bring your fingers back along your jaw to release."

Liz scrunched up her face and lowered the bow. "Huh?"

"Here. Bring it back up." Daryl stepped back in.

Liz raised the bow. "You're a great teacher," she commented as he tapped her elbow. "I know," she said before he could, "higher."

Daryl covered her right hand with his. "Pretend you have the arrow. You draw back until it touches your nose." He pretended to draw the string back to her face. "It's at the tip of your nose. Aim. When you want to loose your arrow, brush your fingers along your jaw and you'll shoot." He dragged his fingers gently along her skin.

Liz shivered and debated feigning further confusion. "Okay." She pulled the string back to her nose, and tried it herself. The bow twanged as the string released as she brushed along her own jaw. "Oh, you're right. Didn't touch me." She laughed, delighted at her work. "It's so quiet. I can't believe you made this for me!"

Daryl smirked proudly. "Now grab an arrow," he instructed.

The girl did as she was told and glanced to him for reassurance. He nodded at her arm position, but corrected her stance slightly by touching her hip. "Turn- perfect." His hand lingered there as he checked over her shoulder. "Good. Now think through the motion."

Liz fumbled with the arrow. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Her ears were filled with the sound of her heart pounding. As serious as she was about learning to shoot, her mind was completely absorbed with other thoughts. Daryl's hand was lingering on her hip as he waited for her to shoot.

"Here," Daryl said, placing her fingers on the string and guiding her hand with his. "We'll do it together. Draw back. Good. Then brush- now." The arrow launched forward and drilled into the center of the makeshift target.

Liz squealed. "Oh, perfect!" She turned and beamed. "I did it."

Daryl grinned and backed up. "Now do it yourself. I ain' gonna be able to do this when walkers come stumblin' 'round."

Determined to make him proud, Liz steadied the bow, making sure it was high enough, then nocked her arrow and let it loose. It stuck in the hay higher and to the left, but still in the hay. She groaned, but Daryl nodded his approval.

"I thought I did it right," she grumbled.

"You are. Takes practice. Do another." He handed her an arrow and stood back. "Eyes on the target. Think through what you're doing."

Liz cleared her throat. "Thinking of something, that's for sure," she mumbled under her breath. She glanced at Daryl and made a face. "This is going to take me forever."

"It ain't," Daryl said, shaking his head. "You'll get it. Besides, I've got all night. Go again." He watched as she drew the arrow back and let it fly. When it landed off to the left again and Liz threw her hands up, he smiled, hopeful that maybe it would take her all night to master it.