Chapter 4: A Brave New World

The quiet was killing me but I dared not break it. Not that I knew how mind you, as I said I'm out of practice with this interaction crap, but, even if I did, I wouldn't. Daryl had made it quite clear early on me making noises was not to be tolerated. Breathing, apparently, was stretching it so talking was out of the question. Sorry for trying to make conversation.

Sighing for what felt like the umpteenth time today, I cast a furtive glance at the man silently picking his way through the trees in front of me. I still couldn't believe I was here, with him, like this. What the hell had happened? One minute, I'm minding my own business, just trying to reach Atlanta and the next, my world's flipped on its head and I'm dangling over this bottomless pit of despair, barely clinging to the edge of this guy's worn and torn hiking boots. It was mind blowing. And now, here I am, trudging along to God knows where with this guy I don't know, who had already almost killed me once, and who's rude as all get out. What the hell was I thinking? Mom would be so pissed if she could see me now.

…but, then again, if Mom was around I wouldn't be here in the first place. A tight knot built in chest at the thought but I quickly dispelled the sentiment with a shake of my head. I've already had one break down in front of this guy; I will not have another. So, back to what the hell was I thinking? I have always been wary of strangers and most, ok all, of the people I have been suspicious of in the past hadn't done nearly half of what this guy had done to me. And yet I'm following him like a lost freaking puppy. Or, a lamb being led to slaughter. Take your pick. "But… it's not like I have many other options," I reasoned, my mouth twisting bitterly. This man, sorry Daryl, and his group might be the only humans left in the whole state of Georgia. Ok, maybe that's a bit melodramatic but what were my chances of finding anyone else soon? And even if I did find someone, again, not very likely, it's still not guaranteed that they would take me in. What's more, I couldn't survive very much longer on my own. Sure I could handle some walkers but a hunter I was not and I couldn't live on small edible plants that I so happened to come by in the woods. So, rude and dickish he may be, but at least Daryl had offered me respite and the promise of food that wasn't found in a bag.

Even if it was squirrel.

"Kid!"

Starting at the irate hiss, drawn from my reverie, I swung around to see Daryl five feet behind me and to my left. He was scowling at me again. Big surprise. "Yes," I questioned, my voice at a normal level as I tilted my head in inquiry. That, again, was apparently not acceptable because Daryl's scowl only deepened and he quickly brought a finger up, jamming it against his lips in a shushing motion. My brow furrowed and I opened to ask my mouth what was wrong because I hadn't seen any walkers around and—

All of the sudden, I sharp rustle of leaves and feathers rustled above me and I tilted my head back in time to see two birds fly out of the tree, small brown bodies exploding out of the green, green leaves. Oh. Right.

Cursing, quite colorfully I might add, Daryl took aim with his crossbow and fired. The arrow flew, straight and true, from its origin with a twang and a blur of motion but, sadly, it missed the bird by several inches, flying into the woods and burying itself into an unseen tree with a muffled thud. The forest fell silent again as the birds flew out of earshot, spiraling through the air, chirping in what seemed a mocking fashion, and the only noise left was Daryl's angry panting behind me. I winced. Fuck me. I turned to apologize, I really hadn't realized what he was saying before, but the hunter just shot me an ugly and livid look before stalking past me and into the trees, presumably in search of his missing bolt. Biting my lip, I couldn't help but run a nervous hand through my short hair. Aren't we off to an awesome start?

When I had caught up with him again, Daryl ignored me, concentrating on restringing his bow, stepping on the end and yanking the string towards his chest with an angry jerk. Unsure of what to do, I hung back awkwardly, twirling my katana in hand, feeling both guilty and embarrassed. Again. After a few moments, Daryl stood, bolt in place, and I tried to send him a small apologetic smile but he just shot me another dirty look before turning and loping away, his grimy clothing and silent movements making him almost instantaneously blend with the trees. Huffing, I couldn't help but scowl at his back; it's not like I had done that on purpose! "Be the bigger person," my conscience told me. "He's going to be feeding you after all." Unable to argue with such logic, or my stomach for that matter, I reluctantly swallowed my pride and jogged to catch up. Still he didn't acknowledge me so I took the initiative. "Look, I'm sorry alright," I said quietly as I drew up beside him, making sure not to trip on a rock or tree root. "I…I didn't mean to ruin your catch." Daryl scoffed scornfully, not meeting my gaze as he kept his eye out for more food. "Doesn't make it better. How the hell ya even survive out here kid, blind as ya fuckin are?"

I frowned at him, irritation itching under my skin like a horde of ants. "First of all, my name's not kid. It's Audrey." A muttered "whatever" reached my ears but I ignored it. "And secondly, I'm not blind. I'm just more concerned with making sure I don't run into walkers than wondering if there's a damn bird in the tree above me." Daryl sneered, teeth bared and nostrils flared, but still didn't meet my eyes, stepping over a large rock with practiced eased. "Yeah well if ya wanna eat tonight, kid, how bout being more observant and fuckin quiet?" Not waiting for my response, he quickened his pace, making sure to put at least ten feet between us before slowing down again, head swinging right to left as he scanned the trees and ground for more 'critters.' Affronted, I came to a halt, staring at his back in anger and indignation as I stabbed my katana in its sheath, out of the way so I wouldn't "accidently" stab him. Ok, fuck what I said about being rude and dickish. This guy was a down right bastard! I've known him for barely and hour and yet he has got to be the most socially inept, blunt, cold hearted jerk I've ever met! And that's saying something because I have met some cold-hearted sons of bitches. Would a little compassion for the lost and starving girl be too much to ask?

"Food. Think of the food," I kept telling myself. Gritting my teeth, I tilted my head back and took a few deep, calming breaths. Finally, after some arguing with myself, and a long battle to repress the urge to throttle him, I decided Daryl freaking Dixon, what kind of hick name was that anyway, wasn't worth the energy of insulting. So, settling with a whispered "asshole" and a secretive middle finger, I tightened the straps of my pack and turned to follow my guide deeper into the woods, albeit a little more alert than I had before.

"God, what the hell have I gotten myself into," I thought as I trekked, blindly, into the Georgia wilderness.

When the sun's edge began to brush the tips of the treetops Daryl decided it was time to call it quits and head back to camp. Or at least I think he did. He kind of just grunted and jerked his head at me and since I don't speak caveman I was left to infer some things. Still, I followed him. It's not like I had many other choices. Glancing down at my watch, again, I bit my lower lip as I watched the minute hand reach six o'clock sharp. Wherever this camp was, I hope it wasn't far. Sleeping in a tree, especially with oh so charming Daryl, wasn't something I was looking forward to.

Speaking of my forest guide, it, surprises of all surprises, turns out that he doesn't like talking period. The "it's gonna scare the critters" shit was just an excuse. Didn't see that one coming. But fine, whatever. He had a dozen squirrels, five hares, three birds and one raccoon. That last thing aside, he had a feast against his back and I'd been damned if I didn't get a bite just because I did something to piss him off.

We walked in silence some more, the suffocating blanket broken only by the occasional twitter of a bird and the perpetual hum of the cicadas. The scenery didn't change much either. Trees, trees, and more trees; it all looked the exact same. Sometimes there'd be a rock or log to break the monotony of our path but besides that, I was lost in a sea of greens and browns, in the smells of pine and dirt and sweat. Daryl didn't seem the least bit bothered, of course, or lost for that matter. He just continued walking, not hesitating, not looking at any map, just winding around trees and up and down hills as if there was a freaking yellow brick road leading him to this camp. His adeptness at direction equally annoyed and intrigued me. "How the hell did he get so good at this," I thought, watching as he picked his way across the forest floor like this was his fucking home. "It's like he was freaking made for the apocalypse." Ok well that was a conclusion influenced by our circumstance. The fact of the matter is, Mr. Dixon here had probably come out of his mother's womb hunting and his prowess at this was more likely than not a common trait in whatever backwater, hillbilly town he had been raised in. It impressed a "city" girl like me but I'm sure where he came from, it was nothing special.

"Still," I amended as I watched him skirt a large tree, the edge of a tattoo peeking out from underneath his sleeveless shirt. "I can't help but wonder what his story is." Like where had he lived before this? What had he done? How did he get here anyway? Did he have family? So many questions. I was curious, as anyone else would be in my situation, deep in the woods with a stranger who was "saving" my life. But, I also knew that it would be a cold day in hell when Daryl Dixon would pour his heart out, especially to me. I've known him less than a day but, call it intuition, Dixon doesn't seem the type to open up to his best friends; some "blind" and irritating girl he had found in the forest was not even in the running. Sighing, I took a swig of water from my canteen, deciding to drop this useless and unproductive train of thought and decide what the hell I was going to do once I got to this camp.

A trickle of sweat suddenly dripped into my eye and I squinted at the burn. "And of course the world had to end at the start of summer," I thought dryly, dragging my forearm across my eyes to clear them. "Walkers alone weren't enough; the universe had to mix some scorching weather in there too."

Tired, hungry, overheated, and deeply lost in thought, I didn't even register Daryl's hand on my elbow until it was jerking me backwards with enough force to dislocate my arm. Crying out, in shock and in pain, I stumbled back with the motion, nearly ending up on my ass again when the bastard decided to let me go. When the world stopped moving, I snapped my head up, my expression less than happy. "What the hell," I growled, glaring at the redneck as I cradled my arm. "Why'd you do that?" Feeling suspicious and wary, I shifted so I could grab my sword if things went to shit.

Daryl just scowled at me, blue eyes narrowed, and did his grunt-jerk-chin thing. "To save yer blind ass!"

I continued to glare at him but threw a little confusion into the mix. "I was paying attention this time though! You said you were done hunting and there are no walkers! What the hell else am I supposed to look out for? Bigfoot?" I mean really; this guy's arrogance and 'I don' give a fuck bout nothing and yer just a dumb ass kid' attitude was wearing me thin. All he had done was bark and snap at me since we met. It was more than a little taxing. Again, Daryl didn't even bother to respond, only turned to kneel in the dirt. Brow furrowed, still rubbing my arm, I squinted and moved closer to see what he was poking at.

A wicked looking, nearly invisible, homemade trap glinted up at me from the forest floor. It looked like one of those traps you see in the movies, the gaping jaw ones that spring close if you step in them and trap some innocent looking creature as bloodhounds bay in the background. Except this one looked a lot more painful because instead of small even teeth, this one had jagged pieces of glass or metal welded into the frame, for all intents and purposes resembling the lethal mouth of a hungry mako shark. "Wh…what the hell is that," I murmured, although I knew perfectly well what it was.

"An animal trap. What the hell it look like," Daryl growled back, standing back up. I stood up with him, disbelief flooding my veins as I jerked my head up to stare him in the eyes.

"But…but that thing is barbaric! I…is it yours? You can't tell me you actually catch animals with this thing!"

Daryl looked at me with a mixture of shock and annoyance, as if he couldn't believe this "kid" was going to lecture him on something he obviously knew how to do and do well. Well, he had another thing coming. "Ya its mine! I can't fuckin shoot everything we eat. We need the traps. Just be glad I saved yer ass from stepping in it."

I opened my mouth to argue but he just straightened the string of carcasses on his shoulder fixed me with a glare and muttered "camp's close" before he strode off again, without another word, leaving me to stare at the trap at my feet. I wrinkled my nose at the horrid thing and made to follow the bastard, I was hungry and tired and just wanted to get somewhere relatively safe so this day could end, but a sudden thought made me pause. Looking up to make sure Daryl wasn't watching me, I reached for the tanto at my hip and drew it quickly, kneeling in the same motion. I know I should leave it, it wasn't my place and it could lead to more potential food but…it was too cruel. When the short hilt was in my grasp, I jabbed my blade out without further thought, the bright steel striking at the heart of the godforsaken device.

It closed much quicker than I anticipated.

With the sound of creaking metal, the jaws of the trap sprung close, the glass and rusted teeth screeching against each other and my blade. I winced at the noise and was slowly extracting the tanto when I saw it. Blood and bits of fur and flesh clung to the serrated tips, brown and crimson and other unholy colors. Bile rose in my throat and I fought the urge to be sick. Now, I'm not a vegetarian, nor am I very squeamish. One can't survive this apocalypse being such. I've "killed" many walkers since the end of the world and I just spent the better part of the day watching Mr. Wilderness kill nearly thirty little animals. I was not squeamish but this, torturing animals in such a manner, just spoke of unnecessary cruelty and malice. I bit my lip and glanced in the direction Daryl had disappeared in. What kind of people had I gotten myself involved with?

"Hey hurry the fuck up," I heard Daryl call out from somewhere beyond my line of sight. "I ain't bein caught out here after dark."

"I'm coming!" Realizing it was too late to do anything about it now, I grit my teeth, shot one last look at the now closed trap, and ran to catch up with the hunter, bracing myself to face whatever the universe decided to throw at me next.

"So…how many people are at your camp?"

We had been walking for a few more minutes when I decided I needed some answers. Apparently, Daryl was none to happy with his new development because he just shot me another glare and tried to quicken his pace. "Oh no you don't." With some effort, I managed to keep even with him, gazing at him expectantly as I jogged by his side. He rolled his eyes at my stubbornness but finally answered me.

"Ain't my camp," he grunted. "Me and Merle just found the dumbasses few weeks ago. I ain't in charge of nothing."

"Except hunting," I thought but I kept the comment to myself. "Who's Merle," I asked instead. This was the first survivor I'd learned of by name, well besides Daryl here. I was curious. Daryl pursed his lips as if he hadn't meant to mention that but finally he muttered "my brother." I felt my eyebrows lift in surprise. So, he had a brother. And he was alive. Well, I guess that shouldn't really surprise me. If Daryl was this good at surviving it's a given his brother should be too right? I kind of wanted to ask more about this brother Merle but Daryl cut me off before I could. "There's bout twenty-five others. Ain't got three brains between em though. Fuckin useless assholes," he growled. My automatic thought to his comments was "that's rich coming from an ignorant, redneck, dickhead" but I immediately felt guilty for thinking it. Even if this guy was an asshole, he was indirectly saving my life. I should be grateful, I am grateful. If I hadn't been shot by this guy, which still fucking hurt by the way, I would have continued on my merry way to Atlanta, walking straight into the arms of thousands upon thousands of walkers. I should, at the very least, tell Daryl thank you for circumventing me from that fate.

…but Christ, talk about something being easier said than done.

"He barely likes me breathing next to him. Me talking obviously pisses him off. Blubbering to him my thanks for rescuing me will probably lead to an arrow between the eyes," I thought dryly. So…maybe I just shouldn't say anything. Daryl doesn't look like the kind of guy that needs hot air blown up his ass. If I did thank him he'd probably just shrug it off with a grunt and a nasty comment or two. Then I'd be embarrassed and pissed off and say some shit and then I'd piss of Daryl and again, it would probably end with an arrow through my forehead. It was a lose-lose situation. I don't even know why I was debating this.

Except…I do. I'm debating this because…because I was raised better than that, at least in the last eight years. It was because my Mom and my sensei taught me to be respectful and gracious and kind and a whole bunch of other things that shouldn't matter anymore, not in this new fucked up world, but yet, somehow did. I was debating this because truthfully, it wasn't about Daryl and who he is and how he would feel; this was about who I am and how it makes me feel. And the Audrey Bennett that I used to be, that I hope was still alive somewhere under the cynical, scared, scarred, and bitter woman I was becoming, wouldn't let someone who saved her life go without a few words of thanks. I exhaled harshly and rubbed my forehead in defeat, being sure to not touch that still smarting gash on my temple. Why did I have to have such a bleeding freaking heart? Lord knows, after all the shit I've been through, I should be a hardened, uncaring bitch. Guess that's just another testament of God's cruel sense of humor.

"All right Audrey, you can do this," I encouraged myself. "It's just five words. 'Thanks for saving my life.' Easy. Simple. And then you can move on with your life and not feel guilty over something so trite." Slightly empowered, but still ready to hit the dirt if Daryl decided an arrow really was the best way to shut me up, I opened my mouth to talk.

"Hey Daryl…"

The man beside me froze in mid-step, body going rigid like a dog on point. I felt my brow furrow at the reaction and I slowed to a stop, casting my eyes about to see what was wrong. Were there walkers or was it simply another squirrel or something we could eat? Or was it just me opening my mouth again and—

A sudden rustle in the brush before us had my body freezing up as well. That sounded way too big to be a freaking squirrel.

Feeling my heart kick start in my chest, I slowly reached around for the handle of my katana, flexing my fingers around the cool, leather shaft. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of disbelief. Daryl and I had been walking for hours and, even though I am directionally challenged, I knew enough from the aching in my calves and shins that most of it had been up hill. By my reckoning, which, again, isn't much, we were somewhere up in a mountain range, or at least some really tall hills, miles and miles away from Atlanta or any other city. If there were walkers all the way up here…

I grew cold at the thought.

As Daryl and I stood there, tense and taunt with weapons in hand, the rustling got louder and closer until a bush not fifteen feet from us shook and moved and…a man holding a rather large shotgun stepped out. At the sight of us, the man blinked in surprise before lowering his shotgun that I hadn't even realized was pointed directly at Daryl's head. "Shit Dixon. I nearly blew your fuckin head off," the man grumbled before his eyes finally landed on my. There was a moment where abject shock floated across his face before a slow smile pulled at his mouth and he swung the shotgun up to lie across his shoulders.

"Well I'll be. Now who's this," he asked. I felt a small, responding, shy twitch of my own lips and couldn't help but distantly think that this man had a nice smile.

Beside me, Daryl growled in annoyance and shouldered his own crossbow with an angry motion. "Some nobody I found in the woods. Ya want her Walsh? Take her. She never shuts the fuck up anyhow," he grunted. Registering the words, I whipped my head around to stare at the redneck in disbelief but he was glaring at the guy in front of us. A small feeling of hurt danced through my veins, quick and sharp, but it quickly became eclipsed by a tidal wave of anger. Who…who the hell did this son of a bitch think he is, just handing me off? Like he fucking owns me. Fuck him. And you know what? Fuck thanking him. He can kiss my mother fucking as—

"Hello?"

Snapping out of my self-indulgent fantasies of kicking the asshole named Daryl Dixon's where the sun don't shine, I turned back to see the new guy, Walsh, gazing at me in a mixture of confusion and concern. "You ok there miss," he asked before his eyes flickered over to Daryl, something dark and accusing in his gaze. I felt my own confusion at the look before I realized what Daryl and I must look like. Me, with blood streaming down my face from what I knew had to be a nasty looking gash and Daryl with his broken and twisted nose all covered in his own blood. We must look like we had a knock down, drag out brawl…which isn't that far from the truth.

"Uh…yeah. Yeah I'm fine," I mumbled before sheathing my sword in a smooth and practiced movement. "Nothing some food and rest won't fix."

Walsh, which I'm presuming is his last name, pursed his lips and pinned me with an inscrutable stare, dragging his gaze from my face to my sword, before his eyes left me to glower at Daryl again. "I see. Well I think we might just have some food and room to spare Miss…?

I couldn't help but remember what Daryl had said, "a nobody I found in the woods" and felt a sour taste in the back of my throat as I replied, "Audrey. Audrey Bennett." The man smiled again at my name, warm and welcoming, as he tipped the cap he was wearing at me in an exaggerated fashion from some old Western movie.

"Miss Audrey then. Welcome to Camp End of the World," he joked and took a step forward, extending his hand. "Name's Shane Walsh."

I wish I could say I smiled in return and took his hand without hesitation. I wish I could say I shoved Daryl away from me and skipped into camp with Shane at my arm, laughing and joking like some goddamn cheesy movie. But that would be a lie because that's exactly the opposite of what I did.

The moment that Shane had stuck out his hand, a universal sign of greeting and desire for rapport, I took a step back. I…I fucking shrank away, drawing back until my shoulder brushed against Daryl's and I was practically glued to his side like some frightened damn puppy. I saw Shane give me a confused tilt of his head, Daryl reciprocating with his own glare of 'what the fuck? Get the fuck of me!' and I felt myself thinking the same thing.

Why…why had I done that? Bewilderment spiraled through me, dizzying and potent, as I cursed myself. What the hell was I doing? Here Shane is, rolling out the welcome wagon, all nice and charming, and I get closer to Daryl? Daryl Dixon? Mr. Crossbow-Wielding-Asshole himself? Why?

Biting my lip, I let my eyes wander over Shane, trying to find an answer, trying to figure out what the hell made me lose my mind. I couldn't find a damn thing. Shane was about 6 foot tall, fit and muscular. He had dark and wavy hair, from what I could see below his cap that I now saw said Policein big, bold letters, and a few days scruff on his lower jaw. He had a slightly crooked grin that was slowly fading as I continued to just stare at him and his eyes were dark and kind. Overall, he looked like a nice guy; hell he was even a police officer if the hat and shirt, which also bore the same insignia, were any indication.

And yet something in me still gave pause, like a little voice in the back of my head telling me something wasn't right.

I mentally shook my head at the notion. I'm just being overly suspicious, my past catching up to me. Or the sun must be getting to me. Heatstroke could explain this. I mean, Daryl freaking shot me and yet I trusted him enough to lead me here. Didn't Shane deserve at least a handshake?

"Christ. Maybe that arrow gave me a concussion."

Shaking myself one last time, I stepped away from Daryl, who, I could see, was all too pleased with the motion, and grasped Shane's still outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you Mr. Walsh. Uh…sorry about before. You'll forgive me for being a little wary," I chuckled slightly, giving him my best apologetic smile. Shane returned it and shook his head.

"Call me Shane," he said. "And no harm in being cautious. Hell, I wished more people around here had those instincts." I felt something in me stir at the word 'instincts' but I ignored it as Shane tilted his head back behind him. "But anyway, come on. I'll introduce you to everyone." Feeling both nervous and excited I nodded and moved to follow him through the thicket where, I realized, I could here the sound of voices and the laughter of children. "Children. Wow. Maybe…maybe there is some hope after all," I thought.

"A hope you wouldn't have if Daryl hadn't brought you here," my conscience suddenly reminded me and I mentally scowled. "He doesn't deserve my thanks. He's an asshole. I hate him." That last thought sounded childish, even to me, but oh well. People have hated for less.

"Then why did you draw back towards him huh? As if you felt safe with him," was the retort but I immediately repressed it, writing it off as heatstroke or fatigue or momentary insanity. "I don't feel safe with him. He nearly killed me. He can go rot in hell," I thought adamantly to myself.

And yet, as Shane held a few branches out of the way so I could duck underneath and into camp, I found myself glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see Daryl close behind me, scowl in place.

But the forest was empty and quiet, dark and deep. The hunter, and his catch, was nowhere to be seen.

The night was cool and tranquil, the stars were bright and the moon hung fat and full in the sky. Trees stretched on for miles in every direction, the only interruption being the gorge that dropped down before me into the rock quarry and the sparkling blue lake below. Everything was bathed in silver moonlight, pale and washed out, like an old black and white still life from another time, another place. Another life.

It was beautiful though, so…breathtakingly stunning that all I could do was stare in awe, eyes wide and unblinking, at the expanse of untouched nature before me. Like this, under the blanched moon and diamond stars, it was almost like the past month hadn't happened; like the world hadn't ended; like the dead hadn't started walking and eating the living, infecting, devouring. It was like…it was like I was back on the roof of my own house, relaxing after a hard day of school and training, gazing up at the constellations I couldn't quite name and listening to Mom sing Manny and Irina to sleep.

But I knew it was a lie; I wasn't that delusional. I knew the moment the sun rose it would be back to surviving, back to baring teeth and claws and fighting for the right to live, back to chopping wood or washing clothes or other countless chores that needed to be done. But right here, right now, everything was peaceful and quiet. Everything, for just this one small moment, was perfect and normal.

"Bit cold out here huh?"

Well, as normal as sitting on the roof of an old RV in the middle of nowhere with a guy who I just met and his shotgun can be anyway.

Reluctantly tearing my eyes away from the sight before me, I turned to Shane with the ghost of a smile. "Not really," I said quietly, trying my best not to disturb the night. "I think it feels good after the heat of the day." Shane made a thoughtful face before nodding in agreement.

"Yeah…I guess your right." He trailed off into silence after that and I silently went back to staring into the distance, my chin on my knees and my eyes on the stars. I had wanted to be up here alone, to just think and reflect on all that had happened to me today because, shit, a lot had gone down but Shane had insisted on taking watch with me. I couldn't decide if it was because he didn't trust me to be watchful or he just didn't trust me to be alone in general.

"Um…Audrey?"

I started at my name and tilted my head slightly to look at the former police deputy. "Yes," I answered, wondering what it could be now.

Shane looked kind of…awkward in the moonlight, which is weird since, in the few hours I've known him, he's been nothing but commanding and charismatic. But now he's sitting a few feet from me on the roof of this beat up old RV, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at me as if he doesn't really know what to say. "You sure you don't want to get some sleep? You've had kind of a…a trying day," he says, and I don't miss how his eyes flicker to the makeshift bandage on my temple or the scratches on my cheeks. "I mean with the chores and all."

I pursed my lips harshly but then quickly forced a smile, hoping that it somehow reached my eyes. "I'm really ok. I just kind of want to…see the place you know? Like to make sure it's really…real," I finished lamely, not knowing how to fully convey my feelings. This interacting with other people again was going to take some time to get used to. Shane furrowed his brow but then just shrugged after a moment, muttering an "all right, if you say so" as he turned back to gaze into the forest.

Following his lead, I replaced my head on my knees, squeezing my arms tighter around my legs because, truth be told, it was a little chilly. But I can't focus on the scenery any longer, my mind is churning through too many ideas and memories of today to just rest and relax. A notion occurred to me and I frowned as I thought back to what Shane had just said. That last comment, about the chores, had been tacked on as an afterthought, haphazard and tactless. I wondered at why he had said it at all. We both knew he really didn't mean the chores, the folding of clothes that I had awkwardly jumped in and helped Carol with, or the moving of logs T-Dog had chopped. That comment, despite his attempts at covering it up, had blatantly been about Daryl and me. Nobody had wanted to say anything, they were all smiles and warm wishes as they met me; but around the campfire tonight, as people asked me more superficial questions, I could feel everyone's eyes on my temple, on the dried blood crusted atop my collar and splattered across my shirt. It was like a taboo, like no one was supposed to mention it. And yet, when Daryl had walked by tonight, a plate of roasted squirrel and beans in each hand and his eyes trained straight forward, everyone, as one freaking entity, had watched him go by with a glare that could cut through stone. Some had tried to hide it, some tried to make him notice but either way, the…animosity could not be mistaken. It was shocking at first to say the least. I thought everyone was going to be angry with me, I mean I did break his nose, which he seemed to have fixed sometime between leaving Shane and me and the campfire. But, as it turns out, no one really…liked Daryl. And that was putting it nicely. They all kind of seemed to move around him, trying not to acknowledge him and if they had to, with the minimal amount of words possible. I can't help but recall what Daryl had said this afternoon, about it not being his camp. I thought he had meant he just wasn't in charge of anything, like he had said. But…it was more than that. It was like he was part of the camp…and not at the same time. He shared the space, the food, and partook in some of the chores, mostly the hunting as I had seen but he had helped in other menial things, but that was it. He didn't talk to anyone else besides the occasional grunt of a question or bark of an answer; he didn't mingle with the other survivors. He just…existed, like he was in this little world the survivors had built he but not of it. It was puzzling; he was puzzling but it seems everyone just didn't care, nonchalantly apathetic or just callously ostracizing.

My frown deepened at the thought. No, that last bit didn't quite fit. Everyone I had met today, with a few exceptions, had been really extremely nice and genial. Like Dale with his cute but goofy hat and mothering hen tendencies. Or Carol with her sweet disposition and kind heart. Or Lori and her son Carl, who, even after all they had been through, could spare some friendly smiles and a few extra supplies. Or Glenn and his awkward yet endearing attempts at showing me around camp, at making me feel welcome. Or Jacqui and her warm hearted, caring concern. Or Amy who smiled so big at me, a girl who was finally around her own age, you would think I was like the second coming of Christ. Or…hell just about anyone in this camp. They were welcoming, they were friendly; there were…just all around good people. I couldn't see them just scorning Daryl just because. There had to be a reason.

"Yeah. Merle," a tiny voice in the back of my head supplied and I shuddered at the mere mention of that man's name. Merle Dixon. Fuck, if there was ever a person to never turn your back on it was Merle Fucking Dixon. From the moment I met the bastard, lounging in front of his and Daryl's tent like he was king of the fucking mountain, beer in one hand and cigarette in the other, I wanted to scrub every inch of my skin raw and red just to get the feel of his leering eyes off of me.

It had happened not long after I had entered camp. Glenn had been showing me around, pointing out the road that led to the quarry, Dale's RV, and some other miscellaneous things, when all of the sudden a very loud and very clearly drunk voice had cut through the air, stopping me right in my tracks.

"Now isn't this a fuckin de-light," Merle had drawled out, smoke curling from his chapped lips as his glassy eyes crawled across my body, slow and disgusting. "Ya finally brought back some decent meat lil brother!"

Daryl, who had been sitting beside him, cleaning his arrows, hadn't said a word, hadn't even look up; he just continued wiping the shafts of his arrows clean, face stoic and cold. Glenn had shifted nervously beside me then, face twisted in discomfort as he muttered that we should just keep walking, that we shouldn't mess with Merle Dixon, especially when he was drunk. As I stood there, still staring, I remember thinking "So this is Daryl's brother." He certainly couldn't be more different than the hunter I had met in the woods. He looked a lot older, that was for sure, late thirties or maybe even early forties. His hair was closely shaved on the sides, but the top, untouched part, was a lot darker than own Daryl's sandy brown hair. He had deep wrinkles on his forehead and more crow's feet around his blue eyes than I could count but that wasn't what made him look, or seem, so different than his younger brother; it was the look in his eyes and the expression of his face that set them apart.

Now Daryl was an ass, I wasn't arguing that. He was rude and snappish and quick to anger and over all just didn't play well with others because he was an asshole. But Merle…there was something else there, something…dark. And it wasn't like the darkness I had seen in Daryl's eyes, the painful shadow of too many horrors seen and lived through, this darkness was…evil. Or something very close. There was a haughtiness and a disdainful arrogance to the older Dixon brother, like he hated the world and just didn't give a fuck if it cared or not; like the rules of life didn't apply to him and he would do whatever he pleased and whenever he damn well pleased it. His eyes were challenging, antagonizing, just begging for someone to say anything to him, just so he could tear them to shreds, with his hands, with his teeth. I'd met a few men like him before, though I was loathe to admit it, but there had always been something to keep them in line, be it a crowd or the presence of lawn enforcement. But, as I had watched Merle Dixon lick his lips and undress me with his eyes, I had realized, right then and there, that there was nothing to stop him from taking anything he wanted.

Namely me.

Oh sure, there were people around, witnesses that would normally act as deterrents, but Merle again, looked the type to not give a fuck if people are around and he was easily 6'4 and weighed way over 200 lbs of just pure muscle. Even Shane would have trouble subduing him and he was the most capable of the camp. The horrible truth was this was the end of the fucking world and men like Merle Dixon had finally come into their heyday. As the feeling of cold dread had settled like a stone in the pit of my stomach, I had jerked my eyes from the man and all but dragged Glenn away with me, trying not to appeared frightened but not succeeding very much since I was definitely shaken. I hadn't been fast enough to escape Merle's parting words though.

"Ya can run sugar tits but ya can't hide. I'll be seein ya again real soon and no fuckin chink or nigger or faggot's gonna keep me from callin."

Glenn and I had all but sprinted back to the center of camp, close to the RV and, although we hadn't said it out loud, close to Shane and his trusty shotgun.

So, yeah I guess I can see why people would stay away from Daryl now. Though, to be fair, Daryl wasn't exactly like his brother. Yes, he had Merle's quick temper, and nasty tantrums, from what I'm told, and his less than P.C. tendencies but…I can't help but think I'm grateful that it was Daryl that had found me in the woods and not Merle because for all his nastiness, for all his caustic demeanor and even more acidic words…I wasn't scared of Daryl. Pursing my lips in thought, I felt myself glance over at the Dixon's tent that was on the very outskirts of camp, away from everyone else. At least…I wasn't scared of him yet.

"Want a word of advice?"

Blinking at Shane's sudden words, I turned back to look at him in question. "What," I asked, feeling I may have missed some part of a conversation. Shane cocked an eyebrow at me before jutting his chin out towards the Dixon's tents. "My advice to you is just steer clear of the Dixon brothers. They've only been around a few weeks but I've seen enough of them to tell you they're not good people." He snorted at that and shook his head. "Actually, they're fuckin scum if you pardon my French. But," he said, tilting his head at my temple and the bandage that lay there. "You don't really need me to tell you that do you?"

"Yeah," I chuckled, brushing my hand across the wound. "I uh, kind of got that." But, even as I hummed and nodded in agreement, that yeah they were scum and the dregs of society, I couldn't help but glance back at the Dixon tent and remember the pity in Daryl's fathomless blue eyes when he told me about the fate of Atlanta and the fact that he had brought me here, to safety, when all I had been was a crazy, stupid, blind girl that had broken his nose.

Yay for my longest chapter yet :) What did you think about it? I want to know your questions, comments, or concerns :) So drop me a review, PLEASE, and tell me what you think.

OH! P.S. : I'm thinking about writing some chapters in Daryl's Pov but i'm not sure about it :/ What do you guys think? Yes or no? Tell me your answers when you click the pretty button below. :}

Happy Holidays everyone! :D

~Shadows