Chapter Twenty-Nine

"How d'you know where we're going?" Carl asked, one of the many questions he'd been spewing over the last several hours. Daryl ripped the shop rag from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. He was tempted to gag the boy.

Carol cut him off before he could let his irritation show. "Because he's following Sophia's tracks."

"But you can hardly see anything," he protested, looking up at his mother's best friend. "Just dirt and mud and stuff."

She pulled him down next to her to crouch in the leaves, and pointed. "Look there, Carl … the leaves are overturned and there …" She edged her finger over a depression. "See how they're mashed into the mud, it's a footprint. Or a half a print at least."

Daryl smirked at her, impressed with the knowledge she'd retained and the fact she was steadily improving. And her patience – patience he never thought to possess himself – was simply unparalleled.

"Shoulda let y' go off with yer dad," he grumbled quietly.

Carl snorted. "Wouldn't have had a chance to learn anything if I'd gone with dad," he mumbled, chancing a glance up at the hunter. "He'd just tell me to be quiet and stick close. I love my dad, but sometimes I don't think he can tell the difference between me and a trained puppy. Besides, I want to be with you when you find Sophia."

"Y' really wanna learn t' track, huh?" he asked seriously, studying the boy.

Carl nodded, his little face devoid of any pretense. "I do. I want to learn like Sophia. I want to be strong and know how to defend myself. Help protect the group."

Carol ruffled his hair gently. "You already are, Carl. You and Sophia can give half the adults in our group a run for their money."

Daryl led them further into the trees, his eyes trained on the trail before him. "He's right, though, Carol. This group needs t' be trained up a bit. Bunch o' damn marshmallows … too soft. Gonna get themselves killed."

Carl grinned at the reference, but quickly it faded when Daryl brought them to a stop and shoved him and Carol off behind a tree. "What is it?" he whispered, his eyes wide and his grip tightening on his bow.

Daryl held a finger to his lips and pointed to a flash of dull olive green off into the brush. "Stay behind me," he warned. "Not a sound, an' stay outta sight."

Carol squinted against the sunlight and peered in the direction he indicated, slowly making out the form of a tent in the distance. Her heart sped up with hope. Maybe Sophia had taken refuge there for the night, she thought frantically. It was all she could think of, and she would have blindly run ahead if Daryl hadn't have reached out and wrapped a restraining hand over her wrist.

"Didn't y' hear what I just said, woman?" he hissed. "Y' can't jus' run off like that, damnit!":

She bit her lip, realizing her mistake, though her instinct urging her to disobey was still strong. "Sorry … but what if she's there? I can't just stand here and –"

"But y' will," he said, his tone brooking no objection. He didn't give her a chance to protest further, stepping through the trees and edging closer to the tent. There was nothing but the foul stench of death surrounding the structure. "Sophia!" he called, not allowing himself any false hope she'd be there.

When he deemed it safe enough, he waved Carol and Carl over – motioned them to stay put – and slowly approached the tent flap, unzipping it. He recoiled from the smell, but didn't let it stop him from entering. His eyes did a quick scan before returning to the corpse lying back in the camp chair, the hole in its temple making it clear he wasn't going to try to take a bite out of him. He bit back a wave of disappointment at not finding his girl. Not wanting to linger a second longer than necessary, he took the .38 from the man's hand and left the tent.

"Did you find anything?" Carol asked anxiously.

He shook his head and thrust the handgun in Carl's direction. "Keep ahold o' this until I can show y' how t' use it later."

Carl's big blue eyes widened further. "Y-You trust me with this?"

"Until y' give me a reason not t'." Daryl leaned his face close to the boy's. "Don't disappoint me."

Carl gulped and nodded slowly.

"Did you find anything else?"

His gaze settled on Carol as they left the tent behind, easily picking up Sophia's trail again. "Our friend back there … opted out, but there was no sign our girl went inside. The smell probably warned her off. Although that same smell would've disguised her own if she'd decided to bed down there. Woulda kept the geeks away."

"Daryl, look!" Carl cried, running forward and crouching next to a fallen tree.

Daryl cursed at the kid's impulsive nature, and followed, hunkering down next to him. He took the small pink and yellow friendship bracelet with the alphabet letters woven among the strands of thread to spell out 'Dixon'. She'd made it not long after she and her mother had moved into Merle and Daryl's camp and never took the damn thing off.

Carol grinned. "She's leaving breadcrumbs, Daryl," she breathed, smiling for the first time all day.

"I think you're right," he agreed. The bracelet had been untied, not torn or cut off. She'd left it there for them intentionally.

Their hope was short-lived as the blast of a rifle cut through the tranquility of the forest. Carl swung around and looked towards the direction the shot had come from, and Carol lifted her hand clutching her .45.

"Damnit, I told 'em not t' be shootin' off those guns," Daryl cursed. "They're gonna bring a herd down on us."

Carol and Carl didn't say anything as they set off after him, hurrying to match his pace.

*.*.*

"Oh, my god! Shane!" Rick stammered, panic rising up to choke him as he ripped the hem of his t-shirt and pressed it to the wound in his friend's side. This couldn't be happening, he thought direly, ignoring the moan of pain when he pressed down too hard. "Stay with me, Shane. Don't you fucking do this to me, man!"

Rick whirled as lumbering footsteps sounded behind him, quickly drawing the Colt from his side and leveling it at the man who appeared. He was of average height – if not girth – and threw his hands up, shotgun held aloft. The former deputy should have been able to see he really was no threat, taking in the waxen pallor and large, startled, almost fearful eyes.

"Is he ok? Did I really sh-shoot him?" the behemoth cried, looking as if he were on the verge of tears. "I swear it was an accident! I was just out huntin'. Man, please don't let him be dead!"

"Put the gun down and back away from it!" he commanded, refusing to lower the Colt.

Shane moaned through his unconscious state and Rick hazarded a glance down at the rapidly growing puddle of blood seeping out of him.

"He still alive?!"

"Not for long if I don't get him some help," Rick hissed, putting his gun away and focusing on his friend.

The man inched closer and knelt down on Shane's other side. "If we can get him to Hershel, he might be able to fix him up."

Rick's attention perked up at that. "This Hershel … he a doctor?"

The man winced. "Sorta … c'mon, I know he could help him. My truck's not far." When Rick still hesitated, glancing between the man and Shane, he shot him a pleading look. "It might be his only chance, and I don't want to be responsible for his death."

"Grab his legs."

*.*.*

It took them nearly an hour to backtrack to the others. Glenn actually looked rather relieved to see them, even though Daryl's face looked like a thunderstorm. "Who th' hell's firin' their gun? Are y'all tryin' t' bring another herd down on us?"

Andrea clucked her tongue and braced her hands on her hips, clearly irritated with his high-handed tone. "It wasn't us," she said defensively.

Lori shook her head. "It might've been Rick or Shane, but we haven't been able to find them."

Glenn removed his baseball cap to wipe the sweat from his brow before plopping it back onto his head. "We've just been trying to head in the direction we heard the gunshot."

"Well, at least y'all got some sense," Daryl growled. "C'mon, then, let's go."

Lori moved over to Carol's side as the hunter took the lead through the forest, not sticking to any particular trail. "Hey, are you alright? You look dead on your feet."

Carol chuckled, a bitter sound which cut right through her friend. "Doesn't matter how I feel, Lori. My daughter is lost and alone out here." Her voice was whisper soft and laden with tears she refused to shed. "I just have to find her … then I'll be fine."

Daryl's smoky gaze caught hers as he glanced over his shoulder, having heard her. A knife to the gut would've been less painful than seeing the anguish written clearly on her features, but he was encouraged by her strength. He'd thought she would have needed rest long before now. "Carl! Get your ass up here with me, man. C'mon!"

Lori gaped as her son flew past her to heed the hunter's call. "Carl Grimes, is that a gun sticking out of your pants?!"

Carl stopped in his tracks, but Daryl grabbed the back of his shirt and kept the boy moving. "He's holdin' onto it for me until I can teach 'im how t' use it. All o' y'all are gonna be learnin' how t' use one soon as we can find a place t' hole up."

"But … did you ask Rick if –"

Daryl whirled on her, his eyes narrowed, and his upper lip drawn back into a sneer. "D'you see Rick anywhere? The boy was put into my charge, an' it was my call t' make. Now move your ass!"

Carol linked her arm with Lori's and pulled her along as Andrea fell into step beside them. "Is he always like this? I don't remember him being quite so vocal when we were at the quarry."

Carol smiled, the soft look in her eyes focused on the back of Daryl's head. "He's the quiet one actually. Merle is the louder of the two, but Daryl's not going to shy away from duty either." She grinned at Andrea. "Don't take it personally."

"But he gave Carl a gun, Carol," Lori snapped in a furious whisper.

"Which he wouldn't have done if he didn't think the boy would be responsible with it. Daryl can see it in him, Lori. Our kids are going to have to grow up in this madness, and the only way they're going to survive is if we teach them how."

Andrea shifted the rucksack on her shoulder. "Well I'm more than willing to learn if he's so gung-ho to teach us."

Glenn sidled up to them, his brow furrowed. "Shouldn't we have run into Rick and Shane by now?"

Lori frowned at him. "You're right. We should have met up with them a long time ago."

Carol fought to keep her eyes open. She knew well enough she wasn't going to be any help if they stumbled upon another herd. Exhaustion pulled at her limbs and she couldn't help but wish for a place to lay her head. But she refused to stop … not until they found Sophia. She jerked to a halt when Daryl crouched down up ahead of them.

She left the others and moved to his side, seeing the dark red stain on the forest floor for herself. "Is that –"

"Blood," he said, meeting her eyes. He reached out and grasped her hand reassuringly. "Now don't go thinkin' the worst, woman. There ain't nothin' sayin' it's Sophia's."

"Daryl –"

"It could be an animal or somethin'."

"Daryl –" Carl tried again, tugging on the back of his shirt.

"Or maybe –"

"Daryl!"

"For fuck's sake, what?!"

Carl pointed off through the trees. "Deer," he grinned.

The hunter groaned, taking in the downed buck. Flies had already begun to buzz incessantly in the heat. "Shit, the smell o' blood's gonna bring every walker within a mile. We need t' get outta here before we lose th' light anyway."

Carol turned her pleading blue gaze up to him. "Daryl, we can't leave yet."

He didn't miss the slur to her words as he helped her rise to her feet. A frown creased his brow as he studied her. She was nearly asleep on her feet. "Yeah well, we ain't gotta choice. We cain't be stumblin' around here in th' dark, an' y' need t' get some rest."

The rest of the group followed after them, Carl never far from Daryl's left, his bow in one hand and a bolt in the other, ready to prove himself. The hunter had a hard time suppressing a grin for the boy. He really was trying. His parents should be proud of him instead of constantly coddling him, he thought. Daryl worked hard to move them all back towards the highway where Dale and T-Dog were waiting, but his worried gaze continued to drift back to the woman at his side. She was flagging, despite the effort she made to remain on her feet.

They were maybe a hundred yards from the road when he pulled her behind a tree and took a stance with his crossbow, the thundering of hooves meeting his ears. Who the hell would be galloping full speed through the forest when there was the threat of walkers about? Daryl surmised the girl had to be in her early twenties with her short chestnut hair and lithe frame. What surprised him, though, was her blatantly ignoring the bow he had pointed at her head.

"Lori? Lori Grimes?" she called, clearly agitated when they just stared at her silently. "Is one of you Lori Grimes?"

"I am," the brunette said, stepping forward. "What –"

Maggie Greene cut her off. "Rick sent me to get you. There was an accident and his friend was shot. Rick's little better. My dad thinks he's suffering a mild case of shock. You need to come with me."

Daryl's hand shot out and caught her wrist when Lori immediately moved to mount behind the girl. "You can't just run off with her! You don't even know her!"

Lori shook him off and hefted herself onto the horse's back. "Rick needs me. I have to go." She looked to Carol and Andrea. "You'll watch over Carl?"

"Of course," Andrea said, looping her arm around the boy's shoulder.

Maggie shot the hunter a steady look. "Backtrack to Fairburn road, two miles down is our farm. Look for the mailbox … Greene." Without another word, she wheeled the horse around and took off through the woods without a backward glance.

"Fuck!" Daryl growled. "This is what th' fuck happens when we split up." He stalked off through the brush once more, several feet before he realized Carol wasn't beside him. He turned in time to see her legs crumple beneath her. "Carol!"

*.*.*

"Outta m'way, old man," Daryl snarled viciously at Dale as T-Dog held the door open on the RV. He didn't care if he hurt the man's feelings. Carol was first and foremost in his mind and the need to care for her in a semi-safe environment. He laid her gently on the bed which took up most of the space in the back of the Winnebago and rested his ear against her chest. The steady thump thump of her heart was a soothing balm to his shattered nerves, and he was able to breathe his first easy breath since lifting her unconscious form from the forest floor.

"What happened to her? Was she bitten?" T-Dog asked, peering past Dale's shoulder into the room.

"Naw, she ain't bit," Daryl replied, removing the boots from her feet and arranging her still body more comfortably against the pillows. "She collapsed from exhaustion is my best bet."

Dale, of course, was a fountain of questions. "Where are the others … Rick, Lori and Shane? Why didn't they come back with you?"

Daryl turned on them, getting to his feet and glaring at Dale. "Cain't y' go nag somebody else for answers? I kinda got my own problems right now!" It was then he got a good look at T. "What th' fuck happened t' you?"

Dale – never letting the hunter's temper rile him – nodded to T-Dog's arm. "He's got a blood infection. We need to find some antibiotics soon or-"

Daryl shook his head and brushed past them. He needed to go to the truck anyway to fetch Carol's quilt. They were waiting for him when he returned moments later with a nondescript bottle he pushed into T's good hand. Glenn was just finishing filling Dale in on what had happened in the woods. "Take two o' those an' then one every four hours. If you'd bothered t' look through th' supplies, you'd have found th' bag Carol packed with medicine an' first aid stuff from the bunker."

Andrea joined them and winced at the sight of T-Dog's injury as she pulled the makeshift bandage back. "You need to have this cleaned and stitched." She turned her gaze to Daryl. "You think that man who's taking care of Shane could perhaps fix T up?"

Daryl shrugged. "I dunno. Worth a shot." He looked at Glenn. "He can go with y' when y' bring Carl t' his parents."

"What? I thought we were all going," Glenn protested. "Why just the three of us?"

"Because we need t' reconnect with our people an' I ain't leavin'. What if Soph finds her way back an' I ain't here?" His gaze wandered back to the RV where his woman slept. "I cain't just leave."

Dale nodded, understanding how he felt. "No one wants to leave her out here alone, Daryl. Glenn can go tonight, and we'll follow in the morning. We can rig up a sign telling Sophia to wait for us, and leave her some supplies."

Daryl clutched the quilt in his hand and moved to the steps of the RV. "Well … get to it, Short Round," he said, ignoring the boy's scowl. "Carl, grab your pack, boy. You're ridin' with Glenn and T t' th' farm."

"Awww, man, can't I stay with you and Carol?"

The hunter's eyes narrowed. "What I said?"

"Yes, sir," Carl grumbled.

Daryl left them all standing about and climbed into the camper. His entire body hummed with anxiety, and no matter how much he might have wanted to cave to the boy's wishes, he just couldn't share his focus. Carol needed him, and he wasn't going to fail her again.

He spread the quilt over her and sat down beside her on the edge of the mattress. It was the only item she'd wanted from Ed's tent after his death, the only thing worth keeping from her old life. Carol had made it herself when she'd been pregnant with Sophia, and it provided a steady reminder of happy times she could look back on to share with her daughter. His chin dropped to his chest as he leaned his forearms against his knees.

"Y' cain't do this t' me, woman … y' cain't leave me, y' hear?" he said, his voice no more than an agonized whisper. He doubted she'd be able to hear him even if she had been awake. He probably wouldn't have had the fortitude to speak the words aloud if she had been. It was still difficult to put voice to his feelings for this woman. He turned to look at her, her features serene as she slumbered. "Don't leave me, Carol."

Daryl swiped angrily at the moisture pooling in his eyes. He felt helpless, and he wasn't strong enough to fight off his father's voice in his head. Useless, worthless, never amount t' anything …cain't even keep yer woman safe. She's gonna die out there an' there ain't a damn thing yer gonna be able t' do t' stop it. Just like that little girl. Yer gonna let 'em down just like y' always do, boy.

He shook his head, dropping it into his hands. No, he wasn't that same kid who used to think his father was right, that he was useless. Carol made him stronger, made him see that maybe he was a good man buried beneath his harsh exterior. He still couldn't believe he'd been lucky enough to find her at the end of the world, or fortunate enough to have her see through the rough exterior to the man beneath. He'd never had anyone touch him as she had, especially on an emotional level so deep it scared him. He couldn't lose her now. Not now that he'd found her.

And if he didn't find Sophia, he surely would. It would destroy her. Hell, it wouldn't do him a bit of good either since he'd come to care for the girl. But he couldn't let himself dwell on that. He had to believe he'd find her. He'd find her or die trying, because he sure as shit wasn't giving up on her.

Carol shifted in her sleep, turning on her side, giving him hope as one word fell from her parted lips. "Daryl …" she murmured sleepily, her hand searching for him across the cool sheets.

"Shh, I'm here," he answered, kicking his boots off and stretching out beside her. She didn't wake, her exhaustion too great, but he felt an overwhelming sense of relief to know she would be alright. His arms wrapped tightly about her as she curled into his chest and sighed, her warm breath ghosting across his collarbone in a silken caress. Only then did he let his own weariness invade his body, giving in to the rest it craved.

Tomorrow … tomorrow they would find their girl and begin the next leg of their journey … together.

A/N: Next time: The group meets up at the farm and settles in, and Carol and Daryl continue the search.