Here's another chapter all for D! Sorry for the delay, but I did warn you all. :) I'm all ears for constructive criticism. If I've missed any errors, or anything of the like, please let me know. I can only get better if I know what I've done wrong.

Enjoy!

D races away from the farm, the black bag of guns and ammunition still clutched in her hands. She leaps over fallen logs, ignores cuts from brambles and dodges low branches. By the time the sun makes it's appearance, D's tired, hungry and numb. With only one option left, she takes refuge in the closest climbable tree and sits hunched by the trunk.

She blinks slowly, her eyes involuntarily drift shut as the weight of her eyelids is too much. Her head droops. Clumsily, she wipes at her face — her eyes feel scratchy — and perhaps if she rubs hard enough the blurriness will dissipate. But it's no help that her stomach aches with an emptiness nor how light-headed she is.

There's brief moments where she dozes, but the images behind her eyes are horrendous. She forces them open. Buildings burn, there's hordes of dead and so many people ripped apart. And the blood. So much blood. Her adrenaline spikes, her heart pounds in her ears and bile rises up.

For most of the night this routine continues and it's only when she's near a comatose state does she give in to her body's need for sleep.

Bright light shines into her eyes and the loss of exhaustion and hunger compel her to open them. Green grass, the farm and tents catch her attention. In the recesses of her mind she is aware this isn't real — the fear and pain still fresh. But it is convincing. The smell is tangible. The touch of wind and grass palpable.

The farmhouse is as it should be. The barn, perhaps a little more put together than she remembers and the RV, tents and fire pit set up accordingly. A slight breeze cools her skin, tussles her hair and keeps the heat of the sun back. The scent of fresh air, animal musk and hay reaches her and flashes of memory play before her eyes.

Movement between the tents pulls her attention.

With slow steps, D eventually arrives at the small encampment. Rick is seated by his tent, Lauren on his lap, and Carl and Sophia by his feet — cards in their hands. Lori paces back and forth — from the corpse of Shane to where Rick sits — only Lauren's glare keeps her back. Beth, Amy and Jimmy cuddle together on the porch stairs, and Glen can be seen through the window into the kitchen with Maggie clutched intimately to him.

"Is this yer idea of peace?" A gruff familiar voice mocks from behind.

D spins on the balls of her feet to stare slack-jawed at the man before her. Merle stands proud and angry with a look of disgust plastered on his face. The last time he looked this fierce, Chester had his hands around Lauren's neck.

Her gaze drops to the ground briefly, but she steels herself and meets his eyes. "I don't know what this is."

"Yer subconscious, Girlie."

"No idea what it's trying to say."

"Where's ma little brother?"

Her lips pull down at the corners as she scans the area for him. "He's not here."

"Shoulda gotten ya inta the car."

"I should have."

"Nah, not as equipped to deal with this like Red." Merle looks down his nose at the brunette as he mocks her.

Her eyes well and she turns a watery glare his way. "Why not?"

"Red takes care of all. You couldn't even get yerself in a car."

D wipes at her eyes. "Shut up."

"You'd be wit the others if you were better."

"Stop it."

"Truth."

"Enough!"

D's eyes snap open and she's awake instantly. Her heart pounds as she gasps for air. Tears cascade down her flushed cheeks. Sobs break out and she clutches her arms to her chest. She hunches and rocks slightly, still aware she sits precariously on a thick branch.

The conversation with Merle replays in her head and with it agony of inadequacy — it strikes a chord she never knew she had. It takes awhile, but she gains control of her breathless cries. Fortunately there is nothing to indicate any dead nearby, which would have been attracted by her less than spectacular breakdown.

Her first priority is food and water. Luckily, her Hunter taught her to track and hunt:

He leans against a tree, arms folded and keeps his eyes on her every move. "Find the way back."

D blinks at him. She followed him away from the quarry despite the twists and bends he took. She had lost track of where he was headed almost immediately into their voyage. She did her best to keep up, gazed around and tried to mark out landmarks so if he left her not that she expected it she would be fine. Only, she didn't know what she was suppose to look for.

"What?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Find the way back."

"How?" She blinks at him again.

"Use our tracks."

It wasn't what she was hoping for when Lauren made him teach her — but he did give advice.

Daryl comes to stand beside her, he'd seen the anxiety leave and frustration take over. Her hard stare at the ground, with narrowed eyes, gives her away. Her mind probably filled with curses aimed at him.

He wasn't wrong.

Inside she throws every mean, nasty and horrible word she can think of at him. What kind of teacher tosses her to the wolves, so to speak. There should be theory to go with the practical. She casts her gaze around at the area. There are faint footprints in the mud, though she can't see where they lead let alone where they came from.

"Crouch."

She turns an annoyed look his way. "What?"

"If ya crouch low to the ground, then ya can see more."

D laughs to herself. It had been a good day, at least in hindsight. She was able to spend the day with a man she had been slightly obsessed with, which gave her time to realise he was more than a fictional character come to life. He was patient, explained techniques in an easy way for her to understand. Of course all it did was strengthen her feelings for the man.

To think, if it wasn't for the red head's persistence — and possible slight boredom, then she may never have gotten to know the Hunter. At least, like she has. Those first few weeks were surprisingly crucial.

Lauren rolls her eyes as D tugs at her arm. "You will thank me for this one day, and you know what," the red head casts a look over her shoulder, "I am so not going to let you forget how much you struggled."

"Well excuse me! I don't like being man-handled."

Lauren shakes her head, once again exasperated with her friend's stubborn nature. "You'd like it if You-Know-Who was the one doing the handling."

"…shut up."

The taller girl snickers as she all but flings the brunette into the middle of the Dixon camp. The two brothers look up from their respective projects and stare at the two girls. Daryl eyes the red head cautiously but continues.

"Merle Whatever-your-middle-name-is Dixon, I humbly request you stop what you're doing and teach me the art of shooting wood."

Daryl's head snaps up and he blatantly stares. The older brother's eyes bug out briefly, but then he starts an uproarious laughter D shifts uncomfortably as it draws attention from the other survivors.

D snorts to herself, it was probably because she was bored.

"So, Amy's fun and all," Lauren wrinkles her nose, "but you should totally hangout with the littler Dixon."

D frowns, though she does glance at said man. "And do what? We don't have a lot in common."

"Haven't you heard, opposites attract."

"Come on Loz, people need at least a few common interests to make a relationship work."

The red head cocks her head to the side. "I thought one only needed attraction?"

"No."

Lauren throws her hands in the air. "Work with me D, I'm trying to get you near your obsess…"

D throws herself at the taller girl, a hand overthe red head's mouth. "Shut up."

"One day you will thank me." The red head doesn't give D a chance to protest and drags her towards the Dixon camp.

"When I find them, I am going to thank her." D mumbles to herself.

D huddles by the fire pit with Glenn and Amy. All the chores have been finished for the day. Now they get to sit and do whatever they want. To bad all D wants to do is hang out with Daryl. But there is no way she could. First of all, Glenn and Amy would see where she's off too and interrogate her for it. Second, she doesn't want anyone to know. This is her secret. Hers.

"Wow." Glenn chuckles.

Amy perks up a little. "What?"

"Loz looks like she's on a mission."

And right he is. The red head marches towards them head held high and a determined expression on her face. She smiles insincerely at Amy and winks at Glenn. She takes hold of D's arm and pulls her from the chair. "Sorry folks, need to borrow her for a bit." She drags D towards the quarry, only to duck into the trees and head back to the Dixon camp.

"What are you up to?"

"You won't go see him on your own, so I have to do this." Lauren shrugs.

"You make everythingso complicated."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

Lauren stops and stares blankly at her. "I hate complicated."

D shrugs, but a smile tugs at her lips. "Life's complicated."

"Not if we could sleep all day." Lauren mumbles as she continues to drag D along.

They sneak into the Dixon camp, with no one any the wiser except perhaps Dale, who had an eye on the two and Lauren pushes D to stand in front of Daryl.

"She needs anotherlesson. She sucks."

D turns an affronted look onto the red head and glares. "Loz."

"What? It's the truth."

"Don't you worry Girlie," Merle snickers, "Little Red, can't shoot to save her life."

"Ha." D snickers.

Lauren looks between D and Merle. "I will have you know, I am not a murderer of fluffy creatures."

"Ya killed a bunch already." Merle shrugs.

Lauren pouts and turns her back on the older man. "Well." She places her hands on her hips and taps her foot, attention on Daryl. "Are you going to?"

Daryl looks between the two girls, then huffs as he gets to his feet. He grabs his crossbow and some bolts, then tilts his head towards the forest. All three watch him walk off, and with a nudge from Lauren, D follows after him.

With a jerk back to reality, D frowns as she looks around to gage how safe the area is. She's lost. No idea where she could be, at least in relations to where the farm is. What ability she has to track is useless. She could back track, though it might take her right into the horde she ran away from.

She squares her shoulders — if Loz can do this, so can she — and climbs down. With the black bag in her grasp she creeps away like she has someone on her tail. It's a steady pace for awhile, but hunger and thirst cause her to stop. She digs through the bag and pulls out a small hand gun. There's a black clip.

If she uses the gun to hunt, then she'll need to be careful. Shoot, collect and run. She'll need to get as far from wherever she fires from, so she's not caught unaware by the dead, or someone like Chester.

Eventually she gets the courage to attempt. She tracks for any sort of creature she can cook and eat. It takes a few hours, there's always one reason or another she has to pass on it. It's too small and not enough meat, won't be able to fetch in a small enough time frame. Part of her knows they're excuses. She hopes her search will lead to her people.

She ignores the fear, loneliness and heartache which settles in because of the separation from her Hunter and best friend. Eventually she finds a small meadow — an oasis — it seems idyllic almost too good to be true. And it has a pond. Water. She's desperate. Her thirst can no longer be passed over, nor can her empty stomach.

Good fortune seems to be on her side. A family of deer make their way to the small pond from the other side of the meadow. She crouches low, tries to creep closer, but stops whenever one of them lifts their head and scans the area. She may not be as proficient with firearms as she is with the crossbow, but Daryl taught her.

He smirks down at her, then glancesdown to his side. She follows his gaze, the butt of a small black hand gun sticks out of his pants. D turns back to him with wide eyes.

"Gonna teach ya the basics. Don't want ya unable to use it if it's the only line of defence ya have."

He catches Rick's attentions, nods his head towards the forest behind him, and waves the gun briefly. The Sheriff hesitates, but nodsand then turns back to his conversation. Daryl takes D far enough into the forest — he's technically on the property — still inside the crudely constructed fence, but far enough away no one can see them.

Luckily, the gun Daryl borrows has a silencer. Now despite popular belief, a silencer doesn't make a gun unheard, but it will dull the sound so it's not as loud. He also brings his crossbow, so if they are set upon, D can use it while he takes the gun.

He explains the theory of it — at least what he knows — then shows her. He shoots the trunk of a nearby tree. There's a crack in the air. Though not nearly as loud as it could be. He pulls the trigger twice more claps and then he hands it to her. D breathes deeply and takes his advice on her stance and aim.

Daryl stands close, eyes flicking from her to the target he locates. He points to a nearby tree. "Try for the low branch on that one."

She takes another deep breath and pulls the trigger. A crack in the air, and she barely hits the branch. She uses a full clip in her practise. Unfortunately, the sounds do attract a few walkers. They're slow and few. Five. All in varies stages of rot — limbs and facial features absent.

D takes a step back as she gasps and trembles. The colour in her face drains and she whimpers. "Daryl."

The man takes his place behind her, hands on her waist, and lowers his head so his lips are inches from her ears. "Yah got this Lea. We've got distance and the fence. Aim and shoot."

Her focus shifts from the terror in front of her, to the heat and solid muscle behind her. The feel of his warm breath on the back of her neck causes a different sort of tremble. His hands slide from her waist to hips and her breath hitches. His firm body leans into her and soothes her frayed nerves.

"Aim. Shoot. Like I taught yah."

D takes another deep breath and raises the gun — her aim on the closest walker. She fires. She clips the one behind him in the head. Not enough to kill, but he stumbles and falls.

"Again." Daryl breathes.

Her hands shake. Daryl glides his hands up her sides, then down her arms util he cups the bottom of the gun. D moves her aim and breathes in — and like Daryl taught her — pulls the trigger on her breath out. It hits. The dead falls for good. A smile spreads across her lips, and her aim moves to the next. Again she fires. Clips it. She tries again and hits off centre. It goes down. Her concentration settles on the far left walker. She gets this one with one hit. A look to the gun and she realises Daryl hasn't helped her. His hands are back on her hips.

However, now they're too close, and there's three left. Her hands start to shake again, her heartbeat skyrockets and blood rushes through her veins. She aims well enough, but her fear is too much. Daryl eases the gun from her clutch and shoots them. A bullet to the head for each. The second clip is finished. D's breath is rapid, her brow slick with sweat and her gaze sweeps the area.

"They're gone Lea." Daryl murmurs as he dips his head to place a kiss on her shoulder. "Yah did good."

It had definitely been on way to learn, but she killed two walkers on her first practice and even had a moment or two with her Hunter. Maybe she is suited for this life. It doesn't always feel like it, sometimes she's wondered if she's more of a burden; Rick leads, Lauren comforts, Glenn scavenges, Shane was a crack shot — even if she didn't want to admit it — and hell, Andrea seems to contribute to the group.

It's not true though, she helps. In fact she's always right there with Daryl and Merle when they hunted and gave a hand when it was time to skin the beasts. Even Lauren never did that — the red head a little too squeamish for it.

Still, she was taught enough with the gun, she can take out one of the deers. The only problem is whether she can drag it far enough away to ensure her safety. With the need for a fast getaway in mind, she goes for the smallest one. She aims, shoots and flinches at the loud crack. There's no silencer for this one. The family of deer takes off, the littlest one lagging behind. She pulls the trigger again, flinches again, and watches as the fawn collapses.

She has to move. Has to get away before anything can get the drop on her. But there's water. She chances it. She shovels handful after handful of the hydrating life force into her mouth. Reluctantly she leaves, and hoists the back legs of the fawn onto her back. It's no easy task, but she makes it into cover as a number of dead stumble into the meadow.

Luck seems to be on her side, they don't catch her scent. They congregate where the fawn had bled. D gives one last look back, her gaze on the pond, then jogs away, putting distance between herself and the dead.

She does her best to ignore her hunger pains.