AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

The newest place they'd found was nice enough. It was deep enough that all their belongings could fit inside it, and so could they, without any worry that rain would get to anything as long as there was no wind to blow it sideways. It was decently close to a small creek where Carol could get water, and they didn't have to venture too far for gathering up enough wood that would do for fires. It suited Daryl for the time being, and Carol wasn't going to complain. She was more than satisfied with what they had.

While Daryl went off to see the progress of the little town that was growing some distance away, Carol stayed at camp like she preferred to do. She washed out their clothes and hung them over scrubs and branches nearby so that they could dry. She washed their breakfast dishes, and she used her spear to gather enough fish for a supper that would fill both their bellies to the top. Daryl did love fish, and Carol did love to surprise him with it when they were near water that was teeming with the good kinds to eat.

Carol cleaned the fish carefully, seasoned them with supplies from her pack, and carefully covered them to wait until Daryl was closer to home so that they would be hot and fresh from the pan. She prepared the rest of the meal, swept out the cave, and arranged their blankets for sleeping—side by side because it was better for warmth in the night and because she'd told Daryl that it made her feel more secure against any possible threat that might be around.

When Daryl returned, he was smoking a cigarette and carrying the bag he often wore to town.

"Did you sell all your pelts?" Carol asked.

"Sure did," Daryl said. "Weren't in town hardly ten minutes 'fore there was a man what bought 'em all up an' wished there was more. Said he had a mind to try to make some kinda beaver skin cover for a place he's tryin' to put up. If you ask me, it would take a lot less time to just build a proper roof, but he didn't ask me…so I sold him the pelts. Didn't buy much. Didn't know what we needed. Got tobacco."

"I don't think we need anything else," Carol said. "Not right now. I—got a surprise for you, Daryl."

"You do?" He asked.

Carol smiled. His voice had gone up with the question in a familiar sort of way. He enjoyed surprises from her. It didn't matter what they were. Once she'd found some honey, and he'd been thrilled by the surprise. The few stings he'd suffered from moving too quickly around the bees hadn't seemed to bother him as they'd eaten fresh honey over hot biscuits. Anything she did for him—and anything she gave him—always seemed to be something he enjoyed.

She enjoyed, too, the way that his appreciation for the smallest thing made her heart race in her chest.

She wanted to give him more. She wanted to give him everything that would make him look so damn pleased with everything he received—nothing about her had ever seemed so pleasing to anyone before.

"I do," Carol said. She went over to where she'd wrapped up the fish. She unwrapped it all and showed it to Daryl. "I've been keeping them covered so the bugs wouldn't get at 'em. If you're ready to eat, I could put them on to cook. Everything else is ready except the coffee."

Daryl smiled softly.

"I'm ready to eat if you are," he confirmed. She nodded enthusiastically at him and took the pan over to the fire for cooking the fish. She also started to spoon the coffee and water into the pot so that she could set it to boil soon, too, so it would be hot after they ate.

"I got a surprise for you, too," Daryl said.

Carol's heart nearly stopped in her chest. Daryl brought her nice things. He'd brought her clothes to replace her own as they'd worn out. He'd brought her good boots that kept her feet warm, dry, and protected. He brought her soft socks that she even wore while sleeping and her feet felt comfortable in them. He'd brought her a comb, too, that she kept carefully wrapped up among her things so that nothing damaged it.

She felt jittery to see what he might offer her. He looked excited, and he extracted, from his bag, a small bit of paper. He unwrapped it to reveal several sticks.

"What is it?" Carol asked.

"Candy," Daryl said. "Peppermints. Tastes sweet. You suck on 'em. Here."

Daryl held one out and Carol observed it for a moment. She vaguely remembered something like this—it had been a long time, though, since she'd been to any town to see the treats like this. She'd never had anything like it. Her parents wouldn't have bought such frivolous things, and Ed certainly wouldn't have wasted his money on something for her that was anything less than necessary.

She held Daryl's eyes for a moment, and then leaned her head to take the end of the stick into her mouth and suck it. The flavor that coated her tongue was surprising. When she pulled back from tasting it, Daryl was watching her.

"Good?" He asked.

"You taste it," Carol said, moving his hand to try to coax him to taste it.

"Nah," he said. "Got it for you. Here—have some more. Much as you want. They all yours."

Carol's heart drummed in her chest. He'd brought her candy. He'd brought her peppermints. Five of the sticks wrapped in paper. It was the kindest gift that she could imagine.

"After supper, then," Carol said. "Put them away—bring some cool water? I'll tend to the fish, just like you like."

111

The meal was every bit as good Carol had hoped it would be. She'd eaten her fill of food, and she was sure that Daryl had, too. She'd heaped his plate with fish every time he'd eaten what was there, and he'd finally pushed the last bit away to be scraped out for any animal that might want it—there wasn't enough for breakfast, and there was more than enough beaver that Carol ought to cook for the morning meal before it went to waste.

During the meal, there had been very little talking. Neither of them had had too much to say, and it hadn't felt urgent to fill the silence with more than comments about how good the fish was or who needed a bit more water to wash it down.

Carol moved their plates out of the way so they wouldn't draw bugs, and she'd settled down near Daryl to sit on their blankets in their little shelter and enjoy their coffee. When he got up to get his tobacco, he brought her the paper-wrapped peppermints.

"For enjoyin' after such a good meal," Daryl offered.

"They're so nice," Carol said, "that I don't hardly want to eat them."

"Why wouldn't you eat 'em?" Daryl asked. "That's what they was made for. If you weren't to eat 'em, then they'd just be goin' to waste."

"But—if I eat them," Carol said, "then—I won't have them anymore."

Daryl laughed quietly.

"That's silly. You eat 'em and—then you have more. Them ain't the only candy there is. There's a whole jar of them sticks in the mercantile. Next time I go into town, I'll just—bring you more, if they mean that much to you."

"I just—you never had something you just…wanted to keep forever, even if you knew you really couldn't?" Carol asked.

Daryl stared at her. He stared at her long and hard. It wasn't it a scary kind of look. It wasn't the kind of look that Ed got before he jumped at her, coming after her to hurt her. It was something of a sad kind of look. It made her chest ache, and she wished she could take it away from him.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Reckon I have."

"It's just that kind of feeling," Carol said, bringing one of the peppermint sticks to her mouth to carefully suck the end of it so that it might last as long as absolutely possible. Daryl watched her sucking it. Then, he tasted his coffee and turned his attention to his tobacco. He took longer than usual making a cigarette for himself, and he finally lit it and set to smoking near her.

"Town's growin' pretty quick down there," Daryl said. "They done got a main street and there's a dozen of them temporary shanties that's gone up with people come to stake their claims and make a life for themselves. Farmin' types, and diggin' types, and all."

"Every town grows," Carol said quietly. It was a silly thing to say, and it didn't mean much of anything, but she felt like she ought to say something when she had really nothing to say.

Daryl hummed and nodded as though what she'd said had been somehow monumental.

"Was thinkin'—there's a right good parcel of men down there, Carol," Daryl said. "Maybe—next time I go back to town, you oughta go with me. You know? See if—there ain't one down there that you take as fit to be a mate."

Carol's stomach sunk. Her chest ached. She didn't want even the peppermint that she held in her hand. The thought of it all stung at her eyes.

"I can't," Carol said.

"I know you got your…your courses and all," Daryl said. "But they gonna go on soon enough and—maybe you just find your mate an' let him know that, you know, you'll come on when they do go."

Carol laughed nervously to herself.

"What—what does a mate do, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"Do what?" Daryl asked.

"What does a mate do?" Carol asked. "If I was—to be someone's mate, what would they be expecting of me?"

"You know that," Daryl said.

"But—just suppose you told me," Carol said.

"Everything," Daryl said. "You'd do—everything you do."

"Cook for him," Carol said. Daryl nodded. "Clean for him." He nodded again. "Wash his clothes and his plates. Shake his blankets and sweep his floors. Tidy his space and mend when his things is needing mending. Make his coffee for him and…when he needs it, trim his beard and hair with scissors so he doesn't get frustrated with the handling of them?"

Daryl half-smiled, but he swallowed it back quickly.

"You good at all them things," Daryl said. "You don't gotta be nervous. You gonna be a real good mate, Carol. And you—you look like a real good mate, too, so they gonna see that right off."

She laughed to herself.

"What's a real good mate look like, Daryl?" She asked.

He shrugged and chewed at his fingernail. He had a bad habit of gnawing his nails and his fingers, even, down to the actual skin. Sometimes, Carol tended them for him and smeared them with a little grease to help heal them and soothe the ache that he swore wasn't there, but she knew he had to feel—especially working so much with his hands.

"Pretty, like you," Daryl said.

Carol felt like she'd jumped right into the frigid creek water. Her breath left her chest.

"You think I'm pretty?" She asked.

"Well—yeah," Daryl said. "I reckon—I covet you an' all…so…they gonna covet you, too. Real bad like."

Carol felt her face burn warm. She wasn't certain, exactly, what Daryl meant about coveting her, but she could guess what he might mean. It was the first time she felt her heart hop around in her chest—daring to believe that she might have a chance. Carefully, Carol wrapped her candies in the white paper and put them to the side. Daryl watched her, but he didn't scold.

"Daryl—what if I was to tell you that I can't take no mate down there in the town?" Carol asked.

"I know you say you mated to Ed for life, but he ain't gonna find you here."

"Whether he was to find me or not," Carol said, "I couldn't take no mate down there." Daryl simply made a face at her, and she accepted it as the question that he didn't quite put to words. "I've already chosen a mate," she said. "And—I'm the kind of animal that can't be persuaded different when I'm set on a mate."

"You done chose?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed quietly.

"I've been trying to mate with you for some time now," Carol said.

"Me?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed and nodded. "But—you couldn't mate with nobody 'cause you got your courses."

"You can mate with your courses," Carol said, "I suppose—as long as it don't bother your mate. Just means that there's no baby that's come of your mating. But—as it happens? My courses aren't on me no more."

"They gone today?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

"They're gone," she said.

"Carol—I—I ain't fit to be your mate," Daryl said.

"You've already been my mate," Carol said. "As I see it? We've already been mating. Near enough, at least. All this time. I've been doing all those things you said to me that I'd have to do as a mate, haven't I?"

"Well—but…" Daryl said, clearly not prepared for this argument.

"And—you've been doing all the things that you ought to do for me as a mate," Carol said. "You've been seeing to it that I was provided for. I don't go cold or hungry. You find me places to keep dry at night, and I don't hardly ever feel thirsty before you find me water to drink. I sleep warm and safe—and even if a bear was to come, I know you'd kill it and make bear steaks out of it, and we'd sleep under its hide when the snow comes." Daryl stared at her, open-mouthed and at least a little confused. Maybe, even, he was shocked to hear that he was so good at what he'd believed he would be poor at doing. "You've done been mating me, Daryl. And—I don't think you can turn me loose after that. Not after all that mating, and not…not when I don't want to be turned loose."

Daryl stared at her. She let him have time to process. After all, she'd been thinking about this for some time now, and he hadn't really had the same advantage of thinking things through that she had.

"If you covet me," Carol said, "then…that's OK."

"It's bad to covet," Daryl said. It was the first thing that he'd seemed able to respond to as he was processing everything. It sounded like an answer that came from deep inside—a lesson learned early in life.

"No," Carol said. "It's not. Not when you're coveting what's yours. You can covet what's yours all the time, if you want."

"Mine?"

Carol nodded.

"You've done been mating me," she said. "And—I've been mating you. So—if you were to turn me loose…it wouldn't do. I've chosen my mate."

"This ain't all there is to matin'," Daryl said. "Can't be."

"There's a little more to it," Carol said. "I can show you. But—not if you won't promise not to try to turn me loose."

"I ain't no fit mate," Daryl said. "I'm just some kinda savage."

Carol felt anxiety bubbling up inside her.

"Maybe I like savages," she said. "Maybe—I'm a little bit savage, too. Maybe it's why I couldn't mate real well with Ed."

"You ought to pick someone better," Daryl said.

"Can't," Carol said. "I already picked. I saw the best for me, and I picked it. And that's just nature. Promise me, Daryl, that you won't try to turn me loose anymore."

"I never wanted to turn you loose in the first place," Daryl said, somewhat regretfully. There was a touch of pout to his voice. Maybe it was all the sorrow he'd felt over having to turn her loose before. Maybe, deep down, he'd believed everything she'd told him about her courses just because it served him as much as it served her.

Carol smiled at him.

"Then—why don't you let me show you everything I know it means to be a mate and…then, maybe, we can talk a little more about…what we both figure it means to be…to be a…a mated pair?"

Daryl held her eyes a moment. She could practically smell his fear. For once, she had the upper hand entirely—and she realized that she would never, never abuse that power over him. He nodded his head, somewhat hesitantly. There was want there. Hunger. But there was fear, too.

"Come on," Carol said, moving to close the distance between them. "I have a feeling that—you're going to like being mated with me, Daryl, and I'm going to like being mated with you."