D doesn't count the days she spends lost, she worries more about how far in front of the horde she is, where her next meal will come from and how to keep hydrated. When the sun begins to set on her first full day on her own, she's faint, tired, and desperate for food. The fear of death by dehydration settles into the back of her mind.
She discovers a decent place to rest, as well as somewhere safe for the bag of weapons. Not like she would misplace it - she's risked her own life for them. On a short break, she watches as a herd of deer pass by. She monitors them, the practice and education she received from her Hunter proves that she is a huntress in her own right. Her kill and subsequent dressing of one of those creatures attests to it. However, she does have to speed up, fresh blood brings the non-living.
Unfortunately she doesn't have anything sufficient to carry the meat from her hunt. The dead begin to emerge from the trees, forcing her to flee with what little she can manage. When there's plenty of distance from them, she's observant, spotting a good place to cook the meat. The small glade consists of a pond with a clean-ish rock slab, which would be perfect to start a fire, and debris to act as warning bell for encroaching enemies.
Despite all of this, she doesn't lose faith. Daryl and Lauren will find her. Until then, she needs to care for herself. There's food; the meat she hunted, an abundance of berries – thanks to the Hunter's instructions about which ones are edible – and water. She's even taken Lauren's idea of sleeping in trees for safety.
Once she has her wits with her again, she can see about making her way back to her people. She is no wilting flower, or damsel in distress. She is strong, she is the Hunter's Girl. If she keeps all of the lessons she learnt in her head, she will get through this.
By day five, the loneliness and isolation have set in. In her chaotic exit from the farm, she's strayed too far from it and the road. Now, she's realised she has no idea where she is. The paranoia has set in and she's constantly fearful of the dead grabbing her while she's skulking around the wilderness. She spends her days in the tree more often than not.
Though D knows she has to come down from her safety net in the tree, she's exhausted, hurt and scared. The loneliness, although not debilitating, is enough to keep her spirits and moral down.
It takes another day of internal conflict for D to convince herself that She's not a quitter and decide that she will not give up before she reunites with her friends and family. All she has to do is take one step at a time and think logically. She has to figure out where she is first. How far away she is from the farm, or the road. She's confident her sister-from-another-mister and Hunter won't leave her. She has an improvised base, somewhere safe to come back to when darkness sets in.
Two days later, she has found a viable way to keep track of how far she travels and in which direction, with a way back to camp. Within a few days she has made use of combination of the tracking skills Daryl has taught her and a few of her own ideas she finally has some progress. On her way back she doesn't exactly follow the way she came, there's too many ambling corpses, but she's able to creep back to the pond. She observes that there are more milling about than usual, enough to keep her cautious, but this time, it's not enough to scare her into quitting.
Her resolve strengthens. "I will not be a damsel in distress." She mutters to herself, eyes narrowed.
She's survived on her own, and whilst her food supply is dwindling – she has ample water to survive until she needs to hunt again.
She comes across the Farm, unfortunately she isn't as careful as she should be and makes the worst clichéd accident anyone ever could.
She steps on a stick.
The loudest stick in the world right now. The walker nearest to her twists in her direction and limps closer. She pulls out a large hunting knife, and slams the sharp end into the head. Unfortunately this wasn't the only one to notice her.
Now she's running for her life.
Again.
"What the hell am I doing?" She whispers as she runs around the farm. "There's got to be a better way."
She shrieks and throws herself to the side when the half eaten body of Patricia grabs at her. To her horror, it's not the only one she recognises. Andrea, or at least what use to be the blonde, snatches her from behind. Daryl screams again, and drops to the ground using her weight to rip herself from the rotted hands. She rolls and comes back up, bringing with her a large thick stick.
She swings it at them.
"Shit!" Daryl merely nicks the side of Used-to-be-Andrea and dashes for the barn.
Feeling the panic and desperation push in on her, she searches for anything she can use as an adequate weapon. The stick she has is not ideal. Regrettably, in her frightened escape more walkers have realised she's around.
As a working farm, there are enough tools for protection. She arms herself with a pitchfork, shovel and a bolt gun. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn!" Daryl's rushed rummage brings up a mere four bolts for the gun. "Goddamnit!" The brunette takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. "Right, so only for emergencies."
She escapes the barn, using the shovel a few times, she's no safer than before, the walkers from around the property continuing to follow her.
"Oh god, oh god." She panics. "What do I do?" She glances at the house, looking to find a safe way in. "No bag. No food. The house will be my grave."
With no other idea coming to her, and the dead catching up, she makes the decision to head back towards her base camp.
She zig zags a little, in an attempt to reduce the number of the dead following her. She's able to lead a few into a trap to take them out. She gradually reduces her pursuers, so when she's back to safety, she's on her own. The walkers either lost or permanently extinct.
As she sits in the tree, away from any dangers on the ground, and the sun setting on another lonely, lost day, Daryl fights back tears. Seeing the farm has reminded her that she's alone. She misses the group, her family, and her friends. Most of all though, there is a deep ache for her mother. She has been pushing the thoughts, the depression, back for months. Every time the burn starts she busies herself with Lauren, with Daryl, Glenn or even sometimes Amy.
Anything to distract her from those thoughts.
Now though - she's up a tree alone, with nothing but her fears, loneliness and heartache.
As she drifts to sleep, she prays everyone else is alright.
"Why do we have to do this?" Glenn huffs, arms crossed and leaning against a tree.
Lauren spins round, hands on her hips. "I'm sorry, would you like to be eaten? Cause I know for a fact when push comes to shove, my peeps," the red head gestures to the kids, "are gonna be able to evade our enemies. You, I'm not so sure about."
"I will have you know, I have been into the city on multiple occassions and I'm still fine."
"It's okay, you're only jelly of my skills." Lauren continues.
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not!"
"Are too."
Daryl chuckles and places a hand on Lauren's shoulder. "How old are you two again?"
"5?" Lauren raises an eyebrow at her.
She rolls her eyes, but can't help the tilt of her lips. "Right, so how do we…?" Daryl gestures to the trees.
"At least someone is interested in my 'staying alive' tactics." Lauren sniffs at Glenn. "So, you're gonna wanna learn by appearance, which trees – or whatever tall thing you come across – is the best to climb. I mean, it's all good learning how to climb trees, or become stronger, but if you pick the wrong one to start off with, then it's gonna make it even more difficult. Sometimes the only safe place is up."
Daryl watches as Lauren points out the tricks for spotting climbable trees, how to clamber to the higher branches and the best way to balance. Glenn takes note, but strolls away and Amy barely even stays to hear the explanation. Daryl takes the lessons to heart. and 'played' around with the kids, chasing them and having them chase her, so the adrenaline was high.
No point trying to climb without some sort of threat about, according to Lauren.
Tears run down Daryl's face, she's still as sleep so she doesn't realise. She whimpers softly and shifts on the branch.
'From the memory, Daryl understands she's now in a dream. The sky is too blue and the clouds too distorted. At the real Quarry, the water never rippled, or lapped so gently at the shore. There's a faint mist to everything, though some areas are too densely populated with trees while other sections are bare – like a blank canvas ready to be painted.
"I don't remember. How can I not remember?" her voice trembles.
A massive boulder catches her attention. Perhaps because she definitely didn't remember such a thing at the real Quarry, but she climbs on top.
It's the perfect place to watch whatever events waiting to unfold.
Gradually, others appear. Lori and Carol and Jacqui - although the black woman too is a little hazy. There's a pained thump to Daryl's heart, and a faint sense of nausea.
Amy materialises next to her, as the young woman Daryl met all those months ago. Bright eyed, a smile for everyone – almost everyone - and a kindness that charmed the majority of the Survivors. Then she shifts. Eyes turning cold, a permanent scowl causing a hard distinctive jawline and a far gaunter appearance as she glares at everyone around her.
The muted laughter of children catches Daryl's attention and she turns to watch as Carl and Sophia play with two undefined Hispanic kids.
"Oh god! What did they look like?" Daryl's eyes water at the truth.
Movement from the top of the Quarry, where they had once set up camp, caught her eye.
Lauren stood there, gazing out at the people below, with Rick next to her - observing their surroundings. This was fitting. The man who protected against danger, and the woman who safe guarded their wellbeing.
Daryl searches for the missing piece, finding him slinking through the dense trees.
Was it darker?
The muted sun was still out, but the wooded area sits in darkness. The Hunter steps out, heading towards Daryl. A predator stalking his prey.
But then, with a blink he's back amongst the trees and she was - for all dream logic - in the middle of a meadow.
Again, the Hunter prowled towards her, only Daryl noticed him back in the shadows.
"Either this is a very apt metaphor, or one hell of a premonition." Daryl mutters to herself eyeing the creeping Hunter in annoyance.
Shane and Lori were equal parts alive and dead. S The once Deputy staggered towards a lost and scowling Lori. The closer he got to her, the more zombie-like he developed into and the more manic Lori began to look - until finally she fell beneath him.
Daryl twisted away from the screams and blood.
D sits up too quickly, seconds from a fall to the ground. She clutches the branch and pulls herself back up, leaning against the trunk.
Though she does lose the guns.
She winces at the sound of impact. "Thank god they're made of sturdy stuff." She rubs her chest, hoping to calm her thundering heart, and focuses on breathing deeply.
Flashing before her eyes are the people from her memories, and she struggles to accept that some of them she can't remember. Nor can she truly recall the Quarry she once called home.
Did the lake glisten in the morning? Or was it too muted by the surrounding trees? Were there any cliffs? What about any abandoned mines? How steep was the hill towards the campsite?
Worse, what about the people?
Didn't Jacqui have a smile that was just a little too wide?
Was Eliza more like her mum or dad? Which features were more prominent?
Were Louis eyes always that far apart?
Daryl takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. "Enough. It doesn't matter. They're gone. I need to find Lozzie, and Daryl. I have to get back to the group." She pauses and stares out at the forest before her. "Oh god, what if they leave for somewhere better without me?" Her breathing hitches, her lips tremble and she curls up with her hands over her ears. "No, no, no. They can't." An ache starts in her lungs, escalates to her chest and her throat closes. "Don't leave me, please!"
Exhaustion settles in, and she drifts off, curled around herself, with a dry sore throat.
