Since the night of the soiree everyone had been talking about it. Michonne felt like they'd all described the night so many times to each other that it was almost mythical. There had been something magical about it, though, and they no longer lived in a world where you let yourself often believe in magic and fairy tales. There wasn't Disney around any longer to sell that, or movies that convinced you that you could be swept off your feet during some enchanted evening. In reality, all they still had was a night when everyone had dressed up wearing the clothes of dead people and danced in the street of an old gated community, a fire burning near them, while an out of tune duo sung songs with made up lyrics to the tune of a guitar that was missing a string.
Still, the night had seemed magical, and that was all that was really important. It had raised morale to a remarkable level too, and Michonne noticed that even she was more enthusiastic about doing the work that needed to be done.
Their indoor bunny house was finally complete. It had been a simple project. It required merely that they empty the house in question, next to the one that they were converting into a barn of sorts, bunny proof it to the degree that their energetic furry friends couldn't cause themselves harm, section off parts of it for breeding bunnies, mothers with kits, and otherwise growing bunnies, and provide beds, water, and feeding areas for everyone. All that was left now was the work that they were employed in this particular day, which was transferring all the animals from one location to another. That job wasn't hard, but it was time consuming. They couldn't simply put ten to fifteen live rabbits in a bag and throw it over their shoulders for each trip. The rabbits were food and not pets, that much was clear given that they were identified mostly by markings, size, and gender, but they as the food giving, and therefore life giving, beings that they were, no one wished to mistreat them in any way.
Michonne reasoned, along with the others that had taken special interests in the rabbits, that if they kept their little treasures well taken care of they were likely to continue breeding indoors even through the winter months. That would keep the smokehouses filled, and that kept the table from ever lacking meat.
The barn was a different story altogether. It was coming along, that much was true, but not with the speed that their idealistic plans had made them hope for. It wasn't for lack of planning, and it wasn't for lack of effort, it was simply owing to the fact that there weren't enough workers to transform the house into the barn of Tyreese's vision as quickly as if they'd had a large, well-trained construction crew. What was true, though, was that it was at least ready to be temporarily a home for the goats and pigs that they had. The part that they had prepared was sectioned off into pens and the animals had somewhere to go. They could at least survive there, and everyone reasoned that they could continue working through the winter. The animals could be taken outside on intervals during the day while people continued to work to bring the project together. Tyreese had done a masterful job at building the doors, and Sadie was a demon at tearing down everything inside that he told her to get rid of. The barn was going to come together, it just wasn't going to be overnight.
With the cold weather setting in, Carol had abandoned a good number of her old jobs into the hands of Maggie and Beth who organized, from time to time, teams of the other individuals in the community. Carol didn't have time for cooking regular meals or doing laundry because she'd turned her attention full steam ahead to making sure that they had everything put away that they possibly could for the winter. She was mastering soap with the fat they collected from butchering anything they got their hands on. She was also making sure that every single they brought in from the fields, which were almost spent, was put away. She refused to let even one morsel of their harvest rot, knowing full well that one jar of food could be a big deal if times were lean enough.
They had discovered in the last few weeks, as well, that Libby had the uncanny ability to butcher and clean rabbits as though they had zippers. During their preparation for the bunny house, Carol had culled their rabbit herd, as they called it, and designated the ones that would go to the smokehouses instead of being transferred to the new winter residence. Libby had made it her life's occupation to butcher and clean the culled rabbits and string them up where there was space inside the three smokehouses that Tyreese had provided them with.
Michonne, carrying a few of the bunnies toward their new home, was feeling very optimistic about life in general. She couldn't help it, and she wasn't entirely sure it didn't have something to do with her hormones. The baby was growing, and though her body felt more cumbersome than it had in the recent past, she knew that winter also held the promise of their new arrival, and of her finally feeling completely in control of herself again. She didn't hate being pregnant, not as much as she told Daryl she did when she was feeling especially smothered by him, but she was really ready not to feel like the host to an alien life form any longer. This baby was much more active than Hope had been and it seemed to like to do most of it somersaults and gymnastics when she thought it was a better time for sleeping. She also hated feeling limited like she did. She worked daily, alongside the others, but she knew that they were accomplishing much more than she was at speeds she just didn't seem to be able to reach anymore.
Still, it looked like they would soon be ready to face the cold that was coming, and the coolness that had already come kept her from being as miserable as the heat would have made her, so she was thankful for that. She had already told Daryl, though, that beyond a shadow of a doubt this was her last child. There simply was no negotiating to be done. She'd hang in there through the birth of this one, but she was done with child bearing after this. She could understand now, from the conversations she'd had with Sadie while they worked, why the woman had insisted that her tubes be tied after her fifth child. There a came a very distinct moment when you knew you wanted to throw in the towel, and Michonne knew she was at that point. Luckily, Daryl hadn't even seemed disappointed. He'd fully agreed that they were done and their focus after the birth would be making sure that Hope and her future sibling had the best life that they could provide for them, given the circumstances.
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"Libby," Daryl called as he approached the girl that was inside one of the smokehouses. "Libby, can ya come out here for a minute?"
Libby stepped halfway through the door of the smokehouse, ash smeared across her face. She'd been tending the fires apparently, though he'd suspected she might be hanging more of the rabbits designated for butchering.
"What is it?" She called back.
With all the talk of winter preparations they'd seen a change in Libby. She couldn't exactly be said to be the most social individual in their community, but she was a hard worker. Apparently having goals spoke to the girl and it seemed that giving her the job of putting away meat for the winter had been one of the best moves that they could make. She seemed to like being useful. She'd pushed Emma in the direction of helping with whatever they could put her to doing, and the younger boys had been released from their captivity inside the house she shared with Beau to frolic with the girls and wreak havoc on the nerves of whoever was the unlucky soul who drew babysitting duty for the day. There was one characteristic about Libby that hadn't changed, though, she was somewhat skittish of people.
Libby seemed to have formed an attachment to Beau, which probably was brought about by the fact they shared a house, and also by the fact that Beau was the kind of person that it was difficult to be afraid of. He was too laid back to seem like a threat, and truly he wasn't much of one unless he felt you were threatening him or someone that he was dedicated to protection. The girl had also formed an odd sort of bond with Sadie, as though their brawl had brought her some kind of respect for the woman. Sadie seemed rather fond of Libby, as well, having fully forgiven her for her attack. Libby didn't demand much conversation from Sadie, and Daryl assumed that Sadie appreciated it. They'd developed a manner of communicating with each other that was almost silent and simply happened with gestures and facial expressions.
Daryl knew, though, that for whatever reason Libby was skittish around him especially. She seemed to respect him, but she didn't like to be singled out by him for any reason, even if it was just to show his appreciation and admiration at a job well done.
"I just need ta talk to ya," Daryl said.
"Ain't done yet, gimme a second," Libby called back, disappearing again inside the smokehouse without waiting for Daryl's response. He stood in the street, his arms crossed across his chest, and watched the bustling back and forth of the others who were scurrying around headquarters doing the variety of jobs that each had been assigned for the day. Finally the girl reappeared and stepped out, closing the smokehouse doors. She walked toward Daryl, pushing her curls out of her face. They were beginning to grow back now, and she'd also begun to put on some weight. She no longer looked quite like the girl he thought she was once, and Daryl was beginning to suspect that she, like Beau, were not quite as young as everyone had decided they were in the beginning. "What'cha want? I was doin' what I was s'posed ta be doin'," she said, already establishing a somewhat defensive tone.
"I know ya was doin' what ya was supposed ta be doin'," Daryl said. "I ain't said ya was doin' nothin' wrong, Libby, I just need ta talk to ya."
Daryl had been up most of the night because of Michonne. She tried to let him sleep, but she did a lot of tossing and turning at night and it was difficult to sleep in a bed when your partner couldn't keep still for more than ten minutes at the time. He didn't complain, though, and he often pretended he was sleeping when he wasn't so that she wouldn't feel bad about keeping him awake. The time that he spent awake, though, gave him a lot of time to think about all the last minute things that they needed to try to do in order to really cement the possibility of a successful and uneventful winter.
"Fine, so talk," Libby said, her hands going to her hips.
"Let's you an' me take a walk," Daryl said. Libby looked at him at first like she was unsure of such a proposition, but finally she agreed. Daryl walked with her a moment and got farther away from everyone else before he finally began to speak to her. "What's ya story, Libby? You been here a while, but ya still ain't told a soul how ya ended up at that farm house with all them young'uns."
Libby was quiet for a moment but she continued walking. Daryl sensed a hesitance on her part.
"Libby, we all got our stories," Daryl said. "We all lost a lotta things on the way here, an' ain't nobody gonna judge ya 'cause a' yours. I just wanta get a little better feel for ya an' what ya been through out there. It couldn't a' been an easy task endin' up like you was."
"Ain't nothin' ta tell," Libby said. "Like ya done said, we all lost a lot, I ain't no different. I ended up with them young'uns 'cause they's all I got left. That oughtta answer all ya damn questions right there."
Daryl realized that he might have struck a nerve. People were strange about their stories. Some of them shared them freely, like Sadie, giving you every gory detail you might try to drag out of them. Others offered bits and pieces when necessary, like Michonne. Even others, like Carol, wore their stories like a badge of honor to show just how far they had come and to serve as symbol of how far they hoped to go. And finally there were those like Libby that seemed to want to keep their stories to themselves, locked away, either as some kind of treasure that they didn't want to share with anyone else, or like some kind of nightmare that they were afraid of letting others see.
"Fair enough," Daryl said after a moment. "Just tell me this, Libby, how did ya keep 'em safe? When ya was alone, how'd ya keep them young'uns from gettin' hurt. It ain't easy out there ta keep yourself goin', but somehow you managed ta keep all a' them goin' too."
"I hid 'em," Libby said. She stopped walking near the fence line and Daryl stopped walking too. "I hid 'em just like ya seen. We never stayed in no spot more'n a couple days. If'n ya didn't stay put it was harder fer the dead'uns ta catch up with ya. If we'd known that before, I mighta not been the only one draggin' them young'uns around."
Daryl considered the girl a moment and she stared back at him, almost like she was trying to look into his mind.
"So ya kept 'em hid, but that couldn't be all, Libby. I been out there, an' I know what it takes ta keep people alive. They couldn't help ya fight or look for food," Daryl said. Libby shifted.
"I left 'em where they was hid an' I went out in tha mornin's. I found 'em a new spot, never too far from where we was, just whenever I could find somethin' that looked like it might have somethin' ta eat somewhere. I cleaned out the dead'uns that was there an' then I moved 'em to tha new place. We ate what we could an' then I moved 'em again. It weren't no kinda special plan ner nothin'. I just kept goin'," Libby responded. Her voice sounded almost desperate. Like she was trying to explain the simplest thing to Daryl that she could possibly think to explain, but he just wasn't capable of understanding how very simple it was. "They's all I got left, an' I figured if I could keep 'em from gettin' hurt then I wasn't gonna be alone, an' havin' 'em there made me not so sad 'bout everyone else that was already gone."
Daryl nodded. He could understand that feeling. He hadn't been alone out there. He'd always been with someone else, but he knew the feeling of not wanting to lose the people you did have for fear of ending up entirely alone, like Beau had.
"Listen, Libby, when ya was at that farm house and ya had all them pigs an' goats, was they the first animals ya came across?" Daryl asked.
Libby shook her head.
"Nah, we had done eat some a' the chickens that was left there an' I seen other animals, but I weren't able ta get most a' the stuff we came across 'cause we had ta move 'fore the dead'uns found us," she said. "Why?"
"Do ya reckon if ya was to go an' look at some of the places where ya seen these animals ya might find more? Like were there cows or chickens? Or were there even more pigs an' shit?" Daryl asked.
Libby thought about it. Finally she nodded her head, running her fingers through her hair again to hold back the two curls that seem to insist on falling into her eyes.
"Yeah, I mean I reckon I could find some stuff. An' I know they was some cows I seen in an old barn we stayed at. I didn't mess with them 'cause we weren't gonna eat a whole cow 'fore we had to step out," she said.
"Would ya be willin' ta take the day an' go an' try to round up as many animals as ya could? Maybe a couple of days?" Daryl asked. "Whatever we could get, whatever we could bring back here for the winter could do a lot for us, especially if we was to get us some to breed."
Libby looked unsure about Daryl's proposition. She thought about it, looking conflicted.
"I ain't goin' out there alone," she said.
Daryl shook his head.
"Of course not, I weren't gonna suggest ya go alone. You can take who ya want. Take Beau an' Sadie with ya if it makes ya feel better, but it seems like ya know them farms better than anybody here," Daryl said.
Libby considered it a moment longer.
"I'll take Beau, but I ain't takin' Sadie. Ya gotta be close if ya wanna talk ta her an' I ain't takin' the chance that she get caught by some a' the dead'uns," Libby said. Daryl nodded his understanding.
"Take Carl with ya," Daryl said. "He's gettin' real good at doin' stuff like that an' he can imitate Beau almost like lookin' in a mirror. Get what'cha can today, but if ya see there's more ya wanna go back for then ya can go as often as ya need to."
Libby stood there a moment longer and then finally nodded.
"I'll go talk to 'em," she said. "We'll get some stuff together an' we'll head out just as soon as we can."
Daryl clapped her on the shoulder and she didn't pull away from him like she normally would when he made a move toward her.
"We all appreciate it, Libby. Y'all go when ya ready, an' be careful."
Libby nodded and trotted off. Daryl turned in the opposite direction and started back around the community in search of Glenn. He had plans to send him out with his own team to gather up whatever they could of feed and hay for the animals.
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Rachel, Stella, and Chelsea had taken over water runs for the most part. The three of them passed out of the gates just behind the truck that Glenn was driving out with Jimmy and Junior to go after whatever they could scrounge up in the way of feed to keep their animals from starving when winter was truly set in.
The three women made their way slowly down to the creek. Beyond the fence lines, where the Walkers seemed to pile up from time to time, there was very little Walker activity. Rachel carried two buckets, and therefore was unarmed, but she wasn't concerned. The two girls were armed, and so far they hadn't caught any Walker attention whatsoever.
"Do you suppose they're hibernating?" Chelsea asked.
"Daryl thinks they hibernate," Rachel said, "or at least they aren't as active in the winter. We've noticed that they slow down a lot. You've pretty much got to walk directly in front of them for them to even think you're worth their attention."
"Do you think they'll ever die out?" Stella asked. "I mean there could only be so many of them, right?"
"Who knows?" Rachel said. "You figure that everyone that didn't survive was pretty much a Walker. If you assume, just for our sake, that the Walker population was at least half of the United States, and probably more than that, there's a whole lot of Walkers out there, and we already know they seem to herd and migrate. I assume that they just keep moving around. We probably haven't seen half of what's coming from the more populate regions of the country."
"Not to mention," Chelsea added, "that everyone who was a survivor in the beginning isn't a survivor now. We don't know how many there are out there, but they're dying every day. Look at Frank and Dora. The survivors will repopulate the Walkers to a degree. If no one puts them down then they're just doomed to roam like the others."
"Geez," Stella said. "Aren't you two just balls of light and joy?"
Rachel snickered at the girl.
"Let's talk about something else, then," she offered. "Let's talk about something nice. Chelsea, is there something going on with you and Jimmy? I noticed you've been a lot friendlier since our little soiree."
"No," Chelsea said, "I mean at least not anything like that. I like talking to Jimmy. He lets me talk about my life and I let him talk about his. I guess we're just friends, but it's nice to have someone who doesn't interrupt you when you're talking, and he doesn't point out to me that I've already told him a story, when I know that I've retold the same thing at least six or seven times."
"I think we all do that," Rachel said. "There's something comforting about remembering your life, isn't there? At least the good parts of it. Sometimes I even tell myself the same stories over and over because they're the ones I like the best."
"Do you and Seth talk about your lives much?" Stella asked.
"Sometimes we do," Rachel responded. "Sometimes we're just quiet together. I guess it depends on what kind of mood we're both in. Seth is sweet, but I know he's lost a lot and there's still so much that he's not ready to let go of."
The three women reached the water and Stella trotted off to the side to kill a Walker that really seemed to have more interest in standing still between a few trees. Still, one less Walker was one less Walker, so there was no need to leave him standing there, even if he seemed to pose no real threat at the moment. Once buckets were filled, they started back, their pace even slower than it had been on the previous trek.
"Do you think that we're the lucky ones because we survived," Stella asked, "or do you think that those who have gone ahead are the lucky ones? I mean they don't have to worry anymore about when or how it's going to come, they're already wherever it is that they're going."
"I guess it depends on what you believe happens when you die," Rachel said. "That's a very personal thing, as well it should be. If you believe that we go on from here to a place where everything is glorious and wonderful, then at times I guess it seems that they're the lucky ones. If, however, you believe that there's just nothing after this, then perhaps we're the lucky ones. We're still alive, no matter if it's the storybook life we thought we might live once upon a time."
"It's not a bad life," Chelsea said. "At least it's not as bad as it was. When everything first went crazy there were a lot of times that I hoped that I would die. I just wanted to not see any more of it. I don't really feel that way now."
Rachel sighed.
"Unfortunately, that could all change. At some point we're going to have to leave our little community. Realistically we all know we can't stay there. We'll run out of food eventually, and then we'll have to go to where the food is," Rachel said. "The road is where it gets bad again."
"Let's not think about that, either," Stella said. "I always felt safe with Dominique around, even when I knew we weren't safe, and now that he's gone I just don't want to think about going back to living surrounded by Walkers every hour of the day."
Rachel smiled, turning her head toward the girl.
"Look at this way, when we move on, we move on together. There's strength in numbers, and if we follow Daryl's plan we're only on the road a week, two or so tops. It won't be as bad as not knowing where we're going," Rachel said.
"But we don't know where we'll be going," Chelsea argued.
"No," Rachel said. "We won't know where we'll end up, but we'll know that we're on our way there. It's not perfect by any means, but at least it gives you the hope that there's light at the end of the tunnel."
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The crew had gone to work unloading everything that Glenn and his search team had brought back. It wasn't all that they needed by any means, but his group was willing to head out at first light to continue. At least what they brought back, though, provided the promise that more was to come. Even if it was just grasping at straws, it felt good to have straws to grasp at.
Daryl was getting worried, though, because the three prodigal children had not returned from their hunt yet and it would be dusk soon. Michonne was circling the parameter and clearing the fences, the Walkers becoming a little more stirred up that bunched around the fences, but she hadn't reported seeing any sign of the three on the horizon in any direction.
Daryl knew that if they got somewhere and got into a tight spot they were likely to spend the night outside the community. For Beau and Libby a night in a barn loft somewhere wouldn't be concerning in the slightest. Beau had survived a while alone, simply sleeping in trees and eating whenever possible. Libby had managed to survive for however long she had, though she hadn't elaborated on how long she'd been moving the children from place to place, and she'd also managed to keep three almost defenseless people alive. Daryl also doubted that it would be problematic for Carl to stay a night away. The boy was growing up, and he was developing skills that Daryl had never been sure that he would possess. He could feed himself without any worry at all and he was becoming a skilled Walker killer. He took to Beau like his shadow and the boy was molding himself to be like Beau. Though Rick had expressed that he wasn't exactly fond of the fact that Carl's language skills were changing to match those of Beau's more closely, he certainly hadn't complained that Carl would choose to learn from someone who simply shrugged at having spent six months on their own outside the safety of prison or community walls.
It was clear, though, that Rick didn't want Carl to have to test his survival skills, and Daryl noticed that he seemed antsy about the fact that the boy was still missing. Daryl caught sight of him while they were finishing their work and he would stop randomly and get lost in his thoughts, pausing mid action at whatever he was doing. Sadie seemed to hover near him, never offering much more than a hand resting on his shoulder or something of the like to remind him that he wasn't alone and that others had worried about the safety of their loved ones as well.
When they heard the ringing of the dinner bell, everyone that was at work in the barn area put their tools away where they could find them first thing the next day and they started in the direction of headquarters. Daryl thought that it seemed a little early to be eating, but sometimes meals ran early or late depending on the work load of those usually responsible for preparing them.
As they neared headquarters, however, Daryl became aware that the bell wasn't being rung to signal a call to eat. Instead he saw in front of him the three that he'd sent out. If he hadn't recognized them by build and stance alone, he might not have known who they were. All three of them were caked in mud and Walker mess, but all three were grinning. A proud Carol was standing near them, admiring the fruits of their labor, and also probably considering how much water they'd need to even begin to resemble anything less than savages.
Beau held a rope that was attached to a grey mule that was loaded down with burlap sacks. Daryl had no idea the contents of the bags. The mule itself seemed content to stand there, and he imagined that the rope could have been dropped at any moment without the animal so much as changing his location at all. Libby grinned ear to ear. Behind her, and attached to similar rudimentary harness was a very scrawny looking cow, but Daryl could tell from a distance that she was a female, and given a few good meals could prove to be a dairy cow. Carl had the smallest load, but he was still pleased with his spoils. A complacent nanny goat stood beside him, also tied, and Carl scratched at her head. Behind that was a bleating kid, presumably the kid of the nanny goat. He was tied to the nanny, but at the moment he was busy protesting everything about his world.
"Looka here!" Daryl called out as they got closer, the three not moving at all. "I sent ya out thinkin' ya might bring us back a pig or two an' ya done brought us Old McDonald's farm!"
"Ain't all," Beau said. "We got us a mess a' chickens in them there bags an' we even found us a rooster!"
"He's in a bag all his own," Libby said. "He's an asshole. Damn near tore my arm in half an' he got Beau a couple good times too 'fore we got him sacked up, but he'll set just as good as any cock!"
Daryl noticed then that they had bandaged Libby's arm with some torn pieces of cloth and he could see the blood had soaked through in places.
"Carol, ya reckon ya can doctor 'em up for us?" Daryl asked, turning toward Carol who looked thrilled.
"That won't be a problem," Carol said. "I'm sure a few rooster scratches won't slow anyone down."
"We've got good news, too," Carl said. "We found a bull, but we couldn't get him. We tried, but he was a bigger asshole than the rooster."
"Carl!" Rick scolded, having approached just behind Daryl. Carl ducked his head for a moment and Daryl chuckled.
"I reckon if he can go an' bring us back all this he can at least call a spade a spade. A bull can be a right fierce asshole if he's got a mind ta be," Daryl said. Rick eyed him. "Tomorrow Tyreese an' me will go out with ya," Daryl said. "We'll get that bull."
"He ain't gon' stay in that there barn we're buildin'," Libby said. "He'll be busted all the damn walls out tha place. You'd be better ta fix him his own little private area an' make him a lean to or somethin' for shelter. I imagine he ain't been got by no dead'uns 'cause even they don't have a mind ta try an' tame him."
Daryl chuckled again. It sounded as if there bull might do better in whatever fenced in area they could make him away from everyone and everything else. Bull would keep calm when they were fenced up for the most part, so long as there wasn't anything causing them to get stirred up. A little privacy just might do him good and keep him from getting loose and wreaking havoc. He'd only be good for a little while anyway.
"We won't have ta keep him long," Daryl said. "He ain't gon' cover that heifer but once an' then he won't like the smell of her. We'll butcher him after we got us a calf ta show for his bad attitude."
"Good thing is," Libby said, "there's more where this came from. We ain't gon' have no slack winter at all, not if'n we can get us a few more animals. An' if we get us a billy this nanny here looks like she ain't too bad off ta throw us a few more kids 'fore she ain't no good for nothin' 'cept eatin'."
Daryl smiled. Libby looked transformed. Maybe the key was that the girl needed a purpose. In order to fit into the community, she needed to feel like she had a niche, and Libby certainly had a niche now.
"That's just fine," he said. "Ya can get whatever ya want. We'll pack that barn we're buildin' full for the winter an' work on us another if we gotta."
Daryl eyed the mule a moment. He knew that the animal couldn't be bred, and the truth was that an animal who had no reproductive qualities was really not good for much in the community besides food. He'd never eaten mule before, but he supposed that it was as good as anything.
"Reckon we'll have ta butcher that ole mule, he ain't gonna be good for too much," Daryl said.
Beau immediately moved and grabbed ahold of the rope harness around the animals head.
"We can't butcher Blue!" Beau said. "He's a good mule. Just look at him! He done carried all them chickens an' I ain't even had ta fight him none ta get this here harness on him. Come right to me. He's broke too, an' his feet an' teeth is good. He's 'bout as good as ya'd hope ta see in a mule an' you'll really see it when he gets him somethin' good ta eat."
Daryl was surprised by Beau's sudden protests about the mule. Usually Beau went along with anything that he suggested, especially when it had to do with putting food on the table. Daryl noticed that Michonne stepped beside him then, threading her fingers through his. He stood there a moment regarding the animal that Beau was petting now.
"Beau, he ain't gon' like it none stayin' here. We ain't got no pasture for him ta graze in and he ain't gon' be like that dairy cow. She's prob'ly spent most her life shut up somewhere just waitin' ta be covered or milked. That ole mule ain't lived like that," Daryl said. "He can't even make no babies nor nothin'. He'd just be eatin' an' not givin' nothin' back."
"I can take Blue out," Beau argued. "I can take him out ridin'. He's broke an' he don't even need no saddle. I could cover a lotta ground with him an' I could carry back things that I got while he was eatin' grass an' stuff. We'd be able to scavenge them farm houses an' stuff an' he'd be gettin' all the exercise he needed, prob'ly wouldn't even be eatin' a whole mess a' food 'round here."
Daryl furrowed his brow. He felt Michonne tug at his arm.
"Can I talk to you?" She asked. "Alone?"
Daryl nodded at her and walked off to the side with her.
"Let him keep the mule," Michonne said.
"But 'Chonne, that mule ain't good for nothin' really, and it's just gonna end up gettin' eat by some nasty ole Walker if he trots it around outside the community much," Daryl argued.
"So what, Daryl? So the mule gets eaten by a Walker. At least that would make sense to Beau, but us butchering it doesn't make sense to him. Now I don't know why he wants that stupid mule, but he seems to want it badly, almost as badly as he wanted Sadie. You can't give him Sadie, so at least let him have his stupid mule. If he takes it out on some runs and he gets some supplies that benefits all of us," Michonne said.
"But 'Chonne, the damn thing's just gon' end up gettin' torn up," Daryl said. He wasn't wholly convinced by Michonne's argument, but she batted her eyelashes at him and he could tell that she was going for the throat by trying to employ the doe eyes she threw at him to get her way.
"Daryl, I don't know why he wants it, but he obviously really wants it. Let him have it, please? As a gift to me, let him keep the animal. He's already named it," she argued.
"He named it Blue an' the damn thing's near enough blue that I don't reckon it was too hard ta give it a name," Daryl said.
"And you named your dog Dog," Michonne argued, "but didn't you still want that dog, even if its name wasn't perfect?"
Daryl thought about it a moment, but didn't respond.
"And if you take this mule away from Beau right now he's going to feel the same way you felt when your dad took that dog away from you. He's probably spent his whole day with that skinny thing following around behind him and in his head he's probably imagined how happy he's going to be with the damn thing," Michonne argued. "Please, Daryl…"
Daryl was a little taken aback. Michonne really wanted him to let Beau keep the mule. He could see tears building in her eyes, though he didn't know why it meant so damn much to her. She hadn't seen the thing for more than twenty minutes at most. He sighed and touched her cheek.
"I don't want ta make Beau felt like I did with my ole man," Daryl said. "I'll let him keep his stupid mule," Daryl said.
Michonne smiled.
"Thank you, Daryl," she said.
Daryl walked back over to where Beau was standing, stroking the head of the mule who looked bored.
"Ya got'cha self set on ownin' this old thing?" Daryl asked.
"I do," Beau said, looking at him with a look that Daryl hadn't seen before. For a moment he wondered if Beau was about to square off with him over the animal. He smiled trying to reassure him a little.
"Well, then, I reckon ya got yourself a flea bitten old mule, boy," Daryl said. A smile spread across Beau's face.
"I'm gonna practice throwin' loops again," Beau said, "an I betcha than if'n I practice an' Blue gets him a couple good meals, we'll even bring back a few more bulls ta top that ole cow," Beau said excitedly. "Might even rope us a few more cows ta bring back."
Daryl couldn't help but smile at the boy. He addressed all of them then.
"Fine, y'all did good today and tomorrow's gonna be a good day too. Go with Tyreese and get these here animals bedded down for a night and then come on back and let's get some supper. I reckon all three of ya earned that and a good bath for the day," he said.
He watched as all three of them started off leading their findings behind Tyreese. Daryl walked back over to Michonne and put his arm around her shoulder.
"That boy seems ta think that mule's a stallion or somethin' instead of the old bag a' bones that it is," Daryl said. Michonne turned to him and smiled.
"Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, Daryl. Most of the time we see anything that's ours as a lot better than everyone else sees it, but their vision doesn't take away from the beauty it holds for us. A lot of people might see you as just a dirty redneck, but you're my prince charming, and a lot of people wouldn't consider me much of a prize these days, but that doesn't mean that you don't make me feel like a million bucks. I don't suppose it will hurt anyone if Beau thinks that mule's the best thing he's gotten out of this world gone to hell," Michonne said.
Daryl chuckled at her and tipped her chin up to kiss her.
"Well hell," Daryl said. "Then I reckon the damn mule's gotta stay if ya think it means as much to the boy as you mean to me."
Michonne wrapped her arms around.
"I don't think it's the same thing," Michonne said. "And maybe that will come for Beau in time, but for now the mule will have to do."
"Come on, 'Chonne," Daryl said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again. "Let's go get us somethin' to eat."