Daryl pulled his horse to a stop next to Adam's. "What is it?" They'd been riding for an hour, and so far, there had been no sign of walkers.
"Do you feel anything?" Adam asked, turning in his saddle to scan the area.
He considered for a moment, then shook his head. "Nothing."
Adam switched to studying him, hazel eyes narrowing. "Yes, you do. Just a sliver of… something, don't you? Almost imperceptible. Almost. But you do feel it. Now, concentrate so you recognize it. Think of it as an early warning, or the extreme limit of your range. And remember, you'll be able to sense immortals a bit farther out."
Daryl nodded, although he was sure Adam was wrong. He focused his attention inward. He knew he didn't feel anything. Wait. Was that… What was that? The skin on the back of his neck prickled. He opened eyes he hadn't been aware of closing and met Adam's.
"Yes," Adam said, approval in his voice. "That's it."
"But how?" How could he be aware of such a slight sign? And how did Adam know? Then the feeling changed. He concentrated on it again. Ah, that was it. "It's getting stronger."
"Yes. They're on the move, coming closer. Now see if you can tell the direction."
"Direction…" Daryl frowned, then pointed ahead of them to the left. "That way, right?"
Adam shrugged, an irritating, superior smirk on his face. "Let's see. If it doesn't get any stronger, then we're going in the wrong direction."
After a few minutes, though, it was apparent that he'd been right. The itch had become a full blown buzz — a sickly one that he associated with walkers. Within another minute, the horses had become restive, and he could hear the sound of a herd of walkers ahead. He shot a look at Adam. "Aren't we going to turn around?"
"Nope." Adam nudged his horse's flanks, urging it into a trot.
Daryl groaned and followed. They crested a hill and stopped. A mediumish herd of walkers — about fifteen of them — shuffled along the highway below. First, two of the walkers at the front of the herd turned their heads toward the hill, then a few more, until they were all looking at him and Adam. One at a time, the walkers changed direction, slowly heading toward the hill.
"Shit. We need ta get outta here."
"No, we don't." Adam gave him a somber look. "They need the peace of death." With that, he wheeled his horse, drawing his sword as he raced for the oncoming horde. His sword cut through the walkers like a hot knife through butter.
Daryl drew his own sword and followed, swearing. He cut down all the walkers within reach as they converged on him and his horse. He was amazed that the horse was as calm as it was. Most critters were frightened of the walkers — the last horse he'd been on sure had been.
When all the walkers had fallen to their swords, Daryl realized they still had a problem. He kicked himself for not realizing sooner. "What about their heads?" Unlike immortals, who Adam had said died when their heads were cut off, walkers' heads would still move, even when they left their bodies.
"We finish them." Adam slid off his horse and thrust his sword into the nearest moving skull. His horse sidestepped delicately until it was a few feet away from the dead on the ground.
Daryl copied his new mentor, dismounting and stabbing skulls. "If the walkers are attracted to our buzz, how do we get away if there's a lot of them? And… what happens if they kill us?"
"We can't die unless we lose our heads, remember? Temporary deaths we revive from."
Daryl nodded. "All right. Now what about my first question?"
Adam stabbed the last still moving skull. "They don't have a long range. We can sense them a lot farther away than they can sense us. Avoiding them is your best bet. When you can't avoid them, and there are too many to easily kill, you need to get outside their range That's usually not too far. About 50 to 100 yards."
"What if… I got people, in the prison. What if walkers swarm again?"
"If you have a vehicle or a horse, you can lead the walkers away. When you've taken them far enough away from your group, you can move faster than they can, and get out of their range. Then double back to your friends."
"Just that easy, huh?" He didn't believe it.
"It can be," Adam shrugged. Then he glanced up at the sky. "It's getting late. Do you have any more questions?"
Daryl shook his head. "I need practice, though."
"Practice you'll get just living. I want to get back to check on Joe."
Adam reined in his horse, abruptly raising his hand for silence when Daryl started to ask what was wrong. Then he felt it, too. An immortal's buzz, strong and healthy, coming from the clearing where they had left Joe.
"Stay here," Adam said sharply. "I'm going to find out what's going on."
"Yeah, no. I'm coming too." Daryl almost chuckled at the exasperated sigh he got in response. It was one that he was familiar with coming from other people around him.
"Fine, but stay behind me."
"Sure," Daryl promised, having no intention to keep that promise. If whatever immortal had Joe in the clearing wanted to fight anyone, he'd make sure to stick a crossbow bolt in their eye.
The buzz got stronger as they approached the clearing. It wasn't quite as strong as Adam's, the one that had drawn him there earlier. Did the difference in strength mean something? He made a mental note to ask later, when it was safe. No sense distracting Adam now, when there might be a fight ahead.
A woman's voice ordered, "Come out," when they were within a couple yards of the clearing.
Adam nodded to him, and they dismounted, leading their horses the rest of the way.
A tall black woman stood in the center of the clearing, a katana held in a ready position. "I am Michonne," she announced, her dark eyes moving between them both.
Daryl snorted at that, only to receive a quelling glare from Adam. What was the big deal about her saying her name? Did she expect them to know it?
Adam didn't seem to care about the woman's name one way or the other. "Where is Joe?"
"Introduce yourself as is proper," Michonne commanded. "It is, after all, our custom."
Custom? What custom? Daryl shook his head, confused, but that obviously meant something to Adam.
The older immortal drew himself up and snarled, "Adam. Since we're going by single names. Now. Tell me. Where. Is. Joe."
Michonne obviously had a death wish because she just shrugged. "Secure."
Daryl's eyes widened as he saw the older immortal's reaction to Michonne's words.
Adam shook with rage before visibly getting himself under control, his face turning as cold as ice. "If anything happens to him, if you have harmed him in any way, you die."
Daryl shivered at the explicit threat.
"I have no intention of harming him." Michonne straightened, sheathing the katana on her back with one smooth motion. "I'm looking for someone from the prison group. I have a message they need to hear."
"What is it?" Daryl asked, suspicious.
She looked at him dismissively. "You should teach your student not to speak unless spoken to."
"I'm not his student."
One dark brow raised. "Oh no? Then you aren't under his protection."
"He's under my protection," Adam sidestepped, moving between Daryl and Michonne. "And he's from the group at the prison. What do you need to say?"
She huffed, and leaned around Adam to look Daryl up and down once more. "What is your name?"
"Daryl." He didn't bother with his last name, because they hadn't, either. Maybe last names weren't important among immortals? But Adam had introduced himself as Adam Pierson, earlier. He pushed that thought aside. He'd figure it out later.
"Very well, Daryl," Michonne said, "I was in town, and I saw two of your friends. They called each other Maggie and Glenn —"
What? Daryl surged forward, alarmed. "Where are they? Are they all right? Did you hurt them? I swear, if you did —"
"Calm yourself, youngling. Why both of you seem to think I'm out for mortal blood…" She shook her head, exasperated. "They were captured, by the Governor's men. I couldn't warn them. But I overheard them talking about the prison, and taking baby supplies there." She turned, looking Adam dead in the eye. "I would never harm a baby. Or allow one to be harmed."
Daryl felt like snarling. "Do you know where Glenn and Maggie are?"
"Okoye," Adam interrupted, oddly intent on the strange woman. Daryl had no idea what that meant.
"How do you know that?" Michonne spun around, staring at Adam, irritated, then almost frightened. "Methos," she breathed, almost too soft for Daryl to hear.
Adam spoke rapidly in some foreign language that Daryl didn't know. Michonne answered, still in that same language. What the hell?
Both the older immortals had relaxed, though. Daryl wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not…