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devnmon · 1 year

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Tell it To the Frogs

Chapter Six: Written in My Stars

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Summary: Daryl hunts squirrel and a deer in the forest, staying awake till morning deep in the woods. As he returns to camp, he finds the deer he'd been tracking gnawed on by a walker. He receives more upsetting news when he gets back to camp. It's only a matter of time before he's rushing to the playing field.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter Warnings: description of walkers/dead animals, typical twd gore scenes and mentions

wc: 7k

A/n: Wow I didn't realize this chapter would be so much longer than the first couple... This one is based on episode 3 of TWD, if u know u know. Either way I hope you all enjoy & happy reading!

Though Daryl had no sense of time by a clock these days, he could figure out how many hours of daylight he had left just by using his fingers and the position of the sun in the sky. It's one of the first skills daryl forced himself to learn from one of Merle's old survival textbooks, engraining it in his brain when he was young, in case he ever got lost.

It was about noon now, as the sun's light shone brightly across the leaves grown on the very tops of the trees, covering the forest floor in a cool shade. Daryl appreciated the difference in air temperature, the back of his neck already burnt from days before.

Amongst the trees and wild animals was where daryl truly enjoyed his alone time. Though he was attempting to focus his mind and body on the hunt, he couldn't help but notice how much he wished you'd been there to keep him company. Maybe one day you'd like to do that with him, if he ever got lucky enough.

Daryl strolled amongst the high grass, enjoying the peace but also wishing you were at his side, telling a joke or talking about how terrible his brother is. He scratched his head awkwardly at how much his thoughts of you bombarded the ones he was trying to have about the hunt he was on.

Pulling himself back to concentrate on the task at hand, he realized the forest he inhabited at the moment might be home to other unfriendly dead folks. Since his days of hunting with Merle, Daryl has been able to tell the difference between the sounds of animal, human, and now, walker tracks. It was another key aspect of hunting he picked up in order to learn the skills of hunting proficiently.

Daryl currently hiked up a steep hill that overlooked a section of the forest grounds with strong visibility. He scanned the area, squatting at the top and looking down below. His eyes studied the below ground, watching for any animals that could be rustling about in the surrounding areas. He peers through the scope of his crossbow, singling in on a large bush on the right side of the open area.

He'd noticed the leaves shake a minute or so ago, and focused in on it, waiting to see if anything made its way into the open. Once the leaves rustled again, he lightly gasped to himself, watching as the animal finally showed itself.

Appearing out of the wood was a large deer, one he'd been searching the forest to bring back for the group. Daryl's eyes widened as the opportunity washed over him, peering through the scope of his bow. The deer trembled in place, almost as if it had been spooked by something before coming into the clearing.

He'd been seconds away from plunging an arrow through the deer's body, when the bush it stood in front of rustled once more. The deer reacted strikingly, as it took off running through the open forest area. he hadn't realized within the deer getting scared off that he shot the arrow into the its backside.

To try and catch up with it before he lost the animal within the thicker part of the woods, Daryl trampled down the hill he'd been observing from as carefully as he was able to, without completely sliding down it. Passing by the same area in which he'd watched the deer exit from, his bow stayed drawn in order to catch (or put down) whatever came from the thick brush next.

Daryl crouched behind a lower part of the forest, as the bush rustled intensely, before the shape of something emerging from it came into the light. He watched as a walker stumbled out from the bush, realizing it was the thing chasing the deer.

"Damn.." He muttered lowly, standing up slightly to grab its attention. The walker groaned endlessly, his finger released the trigger as it turned to face him, arrow plunging through its skull and toppling to the ground.

"Let's hope ya don't have any friends taggin' along behind.." He muttered again, pulling his arrow from the walker's skull and heading off in the opposite direction to find the deer.

After about a half hour of exploration passed as he searched the area he'd seen the deer head through, deciding then that he'd just have to be more patient.

Instead of him finding the deer, he was going to let the deer find him.

Daryl took hold of all the energy brewing inside him for this hunt and put it into hunting squirrel in the meantime. Every time he came out here to hunt was when he felt the most like himself. He didn't understand it, but he guessed it was because he liked to be alone. Daryl was always good at catching squirrel, matter of fact it was his favorite thing to catch. Not really his favorite thing to eat though, he much rather preferred venison over squirrel. But it didn't matter that much to him, after all it was slim pickings in the forest and world these days. There were times where was grateful to be able to catch anything at all to hold him over during the nights.

Daryl always planned his hunts; whether it be when he was going, how long he was going to be out for, what he was going to catch, how much of it he was going to catch, or what portion he was going to keep for himself, he really took inventory with these kinds of things.

Considering the close knit group at camp were the only ones he'd have to provide for, he decided on about 10 squirrels, adding five extra to keep for himself. With that amount of meat, he would have provided enough food to last a week, probably longer if the camp's rations were a little more controlled.

By the time Daryl knew he had about three hours of sunlight left, he'd caught half of the squirrels he needed to meet his quota, then ended up impaling two of them on one arrow.

"That's a damn lucky shot.." Daryl muttered as he chuckled to himself, plucking the arrow from the tree it shot into.

He'd been tying the squirrels onto a string from a while ago, and each one he caught from then on ended up there too. as for now he was at ten, but with the lack of movement in the trees and on the forest floor, Daryl would have to hit his quota of squirrels by tomorrow. Though he did snag about two more before the sun went fully down.

Daryl wished he'd caught that deer so he could get back to camp earlier than he'd expected. He decided to settle down and make a campfire to cook his squirrel.

Since Daryl grew up in the woods half of his childhood, he'd always have an easy and enjoyable time cooking his food over the warmth of a campfire. At this moment, he sat on the stump of a log after tying off a small area for his camp with wires and tin cans in case of walkers or stray animals. He sat with a large piece of wood in his hand, cutting it into a tinder stick. They were used, he read in Merle's survival textbook once again, for starting campfires, ones that lasted long, burning strong and well. then he'd collected some dry leaves and branches from the ground, and put his soon-to-be-lit campfire together.

Soon enough, the flames burned brightly in front of the hunter's face, warming him within the cool evening air. He removed two of the squirrels for preparation, one for now and one for later on in the night.

Guess I'll just have to catch more squirrel before I go back to camp...

Though his quota had gone up again, he was sure there would be simple early-morning catches for him to replace the two he was sacrificing tonight.

Daryl hadn't planned on sleeping during this hunt, since there wasn't a place to stay, plus it was just easier for him to stay awake until his outing was finished. On previous hunts of his, there were times he'd fall asleep from closing his eyes for the slightest moment, the next thing he knew, hours passed and the sun had risen.

But that was back in the old world, when there was no imminent possibility of life-and-death danger roaming the woods at any point in time. Though, it's not like Daryl got a normal amount of sleep on a normal-person basis, anyways.

So, Daryl cooked his food as he would any other time, adding some of the ingredients still in his pack from when he'd been on the road. He thought it was funny, how fast life in this world moves. Not even three days ago he was on a much different path, pondering if each day was going to be their last. Thankfully, that hadn't been true. By some luck, he'd found people who were kind enough to give him and his brother a chance to survive.

They had made it alright so far, why not keep going?

That night, Daryl stayed at the campsite well after he'd finished his first squirrel. Keeping the embers of his fire burning ever so slightly was how he spent his time, to have a tiny sliver of light and warmth amongst the chilled night sky. Owls and other nocturnal animals echoed in the dark, pitter patter of smaller woodland animals scurrying across the forest floor.

Daryl wasn't startled by these noises, since he knew the difference between each pair of scurrying feet patterns rustling the surrounded brush he'd been intently concentrating on.

It was silent for a while before it dawned on him that he'd spent what felt like forever hunched over the lingering warmth of embers burning out into ash, any light and heat dwindling away to nothing. Daryl only grunted in frustration at the pile of ashes that was once his blazing campfire.

He rose from the stump his bottom had become numb from, making him groan in pain a little bit as his hand went to rub some feeling back into it. He straightened his back all the way for the first time as well, the pain only hurting for a second or two before it felt good as he stretched his arms out by his sides.

Daryl could see pretty well in the dark, but clicked his flashlight on anyways as he stepped outside the sectioned-off campsite. The weight of his bow and pack on Daryl's shoulders had started to ache from its constant weight on his back muscles. Daryl hadn't taken off his pack in a while, the effect of its weight showing itself with those same aches. He decided to peer into the scope of his bow, the flashlight helping with visibility of where he was looking.

The minute he peered through the scope, he saw another squirrel, taking that as his sign to focus on meeting his self-drawn quota of how many he'd bring back for camp, the archer hunted until the sun shone across the forest once again.

Daryl stopped in his tracks the minute his eyes spotted a bright orange and pink sunrise that was broadening the horizon with each minute that passed. One thing Daryl did when he was out here was enjoy all the beauty of nature. He watched until the colors dissipated and the sky returned to its blue hue.

Only slightly drowsy at this point, Daryl pulled the last of his squirrels together around the string tied over his shoulder. He resumed his steps again, gaze drifting away from the horizon as he began to trample through the forest until its areas became familiar again.

Slowly, he recognized the surrounding area of the camp, feeling a bit foolish after going in one big circle.

Leaves rustled in front of him again, freezing in his tracks as he drew his crossbow, ready to fire. The particular bush in question shook a bit more, until the figure of an animal darted out of it, speeding right past Daryl, the exact way he'd been walking. realization washed over him, taking off in a sprint after it.

He followed its tracks into the brush once again, on its tail ever so diligently. It wasn't until he saw it dart into another bush, catching the figure of a walker headed into that same area.

The archer hadn't realized how close he'd gotten to camp again, since the next sound that echoed out were the screams of little kids. Frightened calls for their parents echoed out, high-pitched voices sending a chill up Daryl's spine. In spur of the moment, he shuffled into the clearing, trying to eye around the thick brush that just so happened to be near the entrance to camp.

As he walked closer, the deer on the ground came into view, arrow still sticking out of its backside. Daryl must have accidentally stepped on a stick as he came into the clearing, because the minute his eyes raised from the carcass, he also spotted a small group of the men from camp standing within the clearing, all looking at Daryl as if they'd mistaken him for a walker.

"Son of a bitch..." Daryl stepped further into the clearing, nearing the animal carcass and lifeless walker, "That's my deer!"

The sight of his deer's untimely death was horrific to the naked eye, and disappointed him in a way that brought a pit-in-his-stomach reaction. The remnants of one walker's meal lay half chomped on, its bodily fluids seeping into the dirt.

Daryl's frustration seeped to his core, his whole hunt wasted since losing the deer to a damn geek. His gaze faltered for a moment, until the only thing Daryl could feel now was the taste in the back of his throat, his anger taking control over his words.

"Look at it.. all gnawed on by this... filthy, disease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard!"

Daryl kicked angrily at the already dead corpse, as if it was going to do anything about the fact that it had already gnawed on the deer. The only option now was to see if he could manage with what he had, and save the parts of the deer that weren't bitten.

"Calm down, son. That's not helping." Dale's voice was the only thing he didn't need to hear right now, already in a heightened state of aggravation.

Daryl had done his best to go out and hunt for the group that had so willingly let him in, and this is what he gets? No, Dale didn't understand that the only thing Daryl could do at this point was yell.

It couldn't get much worse than this.

"What do you know about it old man?! Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'?" Daryl took a breath and walked over to the deer, yanking his arrows from it, "I've been trackin' this deer for miles. Was gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison."

"What do ya think? You think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?" Daryl pointed to the part of the carcass that was free of walker bites. Still bent over the animal, he glanced up at the group of men, realizing Amy and Andrea stood a few feet behind them.

"I would not risk that.." Shane said, the shotgun he'd been holding draped over his shoulders.

"That's a damn shame.. Well I got some squirrel- about a dozen or so. That'll have to do." He adjusted the string of tiny woodland animals hanging from his shoulder.

All the men did was stare at Daryl until he continued speaking. His eyes shifted from Glenn, Shane, T-dog and Dale to the other man standing in the group. There was something about him that Daryl recognized, but he didn't know him from the world before.

He did a double take and then it hit him.

It was the sheriff. The guy from the road. Shot the kid walker. He looked different without his deputy uniform on, that Daryl almost didn't recognize him.

What a world of coincidences.

Looking down at the still corpse of the walker they cut the head off of, its head reanimated instantly, cracking its mouth open as if it hadn't been decapitated from its body. The men let out groans of disgust as Daryl stepped towards it.

"Oh, God..." Amy and Andrea ran in aversion to the decapitated walker head that had come alive again.

"Come on people, what the hell?" Daryl aimed his bow at the head, shooting it swiftly with an arrow. "It's gotta be the brain. don't y'all know nothin'?"

He trailed off back to camp, leaving the deer and walker corpses to the men behind him. There was one man he hadn't recognized among the group, but figured his introduction to him wouldn't be far behind. As it washed over him that the group was back, Daryl figured Merle would have been looking for him by now.

Sauntering towards the main part of camp, the clearing where everyone lingered in their respective areas, his eyes darted around different areas of the camp for his brother.

"Merle!"

There was surprisingly, no answer. It only startled him slightly.

He half expected his brother to appear from the doorway of Dale's van, watching some of the group crowded around the outside of it, huddling with concerned looks on their faces.

Daryl called out again for his brother.

"Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!" Daryl placed the crossbow against some rocks and wood on the ground, and sauntered closer to the small group.

Though it wasn't until Shane called his name from behind where he walked that a slight twinge of worry started to settle in him.

"Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you." Hearing Shane's voice call his name, he turned to face him, left hand gripping the string with squirrels still on his shoulder.

"'Bout what?" He watched the officer stroll past him, signaling him to follow.

"About Merle. There was a- a problem in Atlanta." Shane hesitates to get the sentence out, wishing Daryl wouldn't react the same way his brother had, the past few days of them at the camp.

Silence rang out after Hhane's words ran him over like a strong blow to his stomach, a deep unsettling pit Daryl hadn't experienced in what felt like forever.

It had truly been the worst at this point.

My brother's dead, he thought, the harsh reality of his world currently crashing down on him. On the other hand, Daryl hadn't even been given the details of what had occurred.

"Is he dead?" His eyes squinting at Shane, waiting for him to rip the bandage off already.

"We're not sure." His voice was uncertain, which just made Daryl sweat with anticipation.

Not sure?

What the hell did he mean, not sure? The uncertainty that washed over him coated his hands and chest with a sting of unwanted panic that stood out when he clenched his fists at his sides.

Why was he hearing this from Shane, and not one of the people that was there?

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl walked past Shane, not giving him the opportunity to speak again, before the unknown guy from earlier started walking towards him. He wore a white t-shirt and blue jeans, finding something familiar about his face that he couldn't quite figure out yet.

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." The man in the white shirt spoke calmly as he approached Daryl.

"Who are you?"

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes, you got somethin' you wanna tell me?!" Daryl didn't want this conversation to be any longer than it had to. He wished the man in front of him would spit out what he needed to say already.

"Your brother was a danger to us all. So, I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there."

The sweat coating his skin dripped down the side of his temple, his pacing speeding up, as he'd walked away from the guy in front of him, before he ended up hitting him. Daryl didn't know what to think, the situation before him almost too aggravating to think straight.

He definitely wasn't in a moment like this.

"Hold on. Lemme process this. You sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?!"

Rick confirms what he's said is true, and the impact of his statement washes over Daryl like a bucket of cold water being dumped on him.

It wasn't a moment later that Daryl's eyebrows furrowed, heart starting to race again.

Within the extremes of his anger, Daryl always threw things at the people who'd annoyed him. Sometimes it was a clump of dirt, other times it was whatever was in front of him, or what he had on hand.

This time, it was the string on his shoulder with the dead squirrels attached. As it went flying, Rick dodged the foreign object being thrown at him, backing up out of his reach before Daryl got the chance to take another swing at him. With the force of his body being thrown forward, he grunted, only to be intercepted and tackled to the ground by Shane. His body weight on top of Daryl's made him really thankful he wasn't the one Merle had got knocked out on top of a few days prior.

The next thing Daryl knew, his anger took over his actions, since his anger grew so intensely. though Rick and Shane restricted his body, and next thing he knew, he was yelling out whatever came to mind.

"You'd best let me go!" Aggravation seeped from his voice, not appreciating the familiar feeling of his body being restricted once again in a different way than before.

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't."

Shane denied him the release of his arms from around his head, mockery in his voice pissing him off to another level. The arms around his head were wrapped in a way that wasn't made legal by law enforcement. He knows this only because he's been forced to the ground by many cops, none that had him in a chokehold, though. Shane was previously an officer as well, which just made it worse.

"Chokehold's illegal." Daryl grunted out, Shane's forearms still wrapped around his neck and head. His temple throbbed now, with the man's voice echoing in his mind.

"File a complaint. Come on, man. We keep this up all day."

As he beckoned Daryl to back down from any violence, he was pushed to sit on the ground as the two men stood above him. Looking up to see Rick crouched nearby, he now spoke with a lowered voice and more serious tone.

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?"

Daryl had been too worked up to speak in the moment, causing Rick to repeat himself.

"Do you think we can manage that?"

Daryl's silence gave Shane the signal to release him from the headlock.

Rick lowered his head so Daryl could hear him, and maybe, take what he said seriously.

"What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others." Rick says, in an attempt to let Daryl know how serious he was about trying to keep the group safe.

Daryl heard T-dog speak again, as he'd been admitting something on the lines of having the key to the handcuffs getting dropped down a drain, of all places.

his gaze faltered downwards, pulling his chin towards his chest, forearms shaking as he attempted to pick himself up off the ground already like a man.

though he wasn't present, his brother's words lingered in his mind, his thoughts, and all the decisions he made.

Astounded by what he's heard out of the people in his group, Daryl pulls himself up from his crouched stance, beginning to rise as Rick pivoted out of his way.

His lips pull together into a straight line, posture stiffening as he heads past the others. Trudging past T-dog, he can't help himself as he blurts out, "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't."

Though, he spoke once more, trying to give Daryl the benefit of the doubt that his brother was still alive.

"It's gotta count for something," Rick spoke again, mindful of his words in attempt to not heighten the state of the man in front of him.

Daryl bowed his head, looking to his feet as tears sprung a leak in his eyes. Instead of allowing himself the moment to feel his emotions, he blinks them away and said his piece before walking the other direction.

"Hell with all y'all. Just tell me where is.. so's I can go get him." Daryl felt his voice wavering, the back of his throat dry and lungs out of breath. He was exhausted, but denial was only poking him in the side and motivating him to do whatever it took to get his brother back.

The guys conversation continues, until Daryl hears that Rick's joining him on his trip into the city, and he isn't sure if he feels good about it. This particular guy was the same one who had a part to play in Merle being stranded out in the city, which didn't sit right with him at all.

He watches the two deputies bicker from the campfire, their conversation carrying over to where he sat. Rick treads back into the main campsite, as Shane follows, desperately trying to understand the decisions his friend is making.

"Could you throw me a bone here man? Just tell me why? Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon..."

"Hey. Choose your words more carefully." Daryl stood nearby, overhearing Shane's remark about his brother.

"No, I did. Douchebag's what I meant." Shane said, glancing over to Daryl before turning back to Rick, "...Merle Dixon- That guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"So you and Daryl? That's your big plan?"

The way Lori spoke agitated him, the woman's words not only sounding like she didn't believe they could do it, but undermining both of their intelligence. He only glared over to where she sat, everyone else turning a listening ear at the sheriff. Rick peered over to Glenn, a nonverbal questioning as to if he would join him into the city again.

"Oh, come on.." Glenn retorted, but quickly agreed after Rick gave him a bunch of reasons why he'd be helpful in Atlanta.

Apparently the dark haired man Daryl met three days ago in the woods had an extensive knowledge of the city streets in the brain buried under that baseball cap of his.

"That's just great. Now you're gonna risk three men, huh?" Shane's nostrils flared in annoyance, hands running through his hair as he sauntered away from the conversation before circling back.

All this time the guys have been going back and forth, you'd just been observing from afar, trying to figure out if they'd solve their problem anytime today. You hadn't seen Shane risking his life for this group, so his complaining was unjustified to you.

"Four." T-dog spoke up, the irony of him being he was the one that admitted to dropping the handcuff key.

Daryl scoffed, mumbling, "My day just gets better and better, don't it?"

His hands busied with cleaning off each of his arrows using the red rag he'd kept in the back pocket of his pants.

Sitting by the sidelines while Shane only ordered everyone around and tell people what they could and couldn't do. It was outrageous hearing all this talk come from a man who hadn't done at least as half as much as the rest of you did for the camp.

"Shane, I don't ever see you risking your life for the group, so what do you care if they head out to the city again? They're a smart group of men, they can do it. Do you expect us all to sit here with our thumbs up our asses all day and night? At least they want to do something to fix the situation!"

Daryl turned around to glance back at you, your eyes meeting his for a split second, then turn back to Shane and Rick.

Lori only glared at you but at this point you didn't care, if Daryl had gotten this upset about finding out his brother had been stranded, you thought they should do the right thing and go with him to get the man back. Even if you didn't care for him.

Merle was the last person you wanted back in the camp, since the peace without his presence in camp has been very soothing. On the other hand, you understood where Daryl was coming from, since the experience of something similar had happened to you.

Listening still, you stood behind daryl, sat on a log, also tuning in to Shane rambling on about Rick and how he was 'putting everyone in danger', like rick had no clue what leaving the camp meant to the rest of the group.

Daryl's impatient with the situation at hand, but wants to see where it goes before he collects his things and heads out.

Shane isn't on board with the plan until Rick mentions the bag of guns he'd dropped on the street the day Glenn found him. He describes in detail the list of guns he'd taken from the police station, before he'd been swarmed by walkers on the street.

You overhear Lori criticize her husband's choice of leaving the camp not even a day after getting there. The only thought running through your head was the fact that rick was responsible for Daryl's brother getting left out there, and he said himself he "couldn't let a man die."

You'd been drifting away from the conversation ever since Rick and Shane went back and forth at each other once again. So, you decided to actually drift away from the group to be alone.

Everyone began splitting off in their separate directions to collect their things for the run, after the conversation was over. Though, Daryl recognizes you further away from the group.

Rising from his seat, he plans to head back to his tent to write in his journal before he leaves, but his feet bring him to where you had wandered instead.

He spots you poking at the remnants of whatever lay in a pan over the campfire, observing as you scoop it up with a fork and shovel it into your mouth.

Daryl decides to approach you, since he doesn't want to be one of those guys that never talked to people. He also didn't want to be one that stared out of shyness and intimidation.

As he got closer to the campfire, he saw you sat with a book in your hands, your face reacting to the text as you read. It was funny, you hadn't noticed the man stood in front of you now, your eyes focused on the content of the book grasped between your palms.

Daryl studied your figure, shoulders relaxing as he stood with his gaze fixed on you. A moment passed before he'd had been pulled out of his ogling. Luckily, you still hadn't noticed him standing there. He cleared his throat as calm as possible to get your attention without startling you.

Your eyes glanced up from the book, brightening as the look of Daryl before you pulled your attention from the book fully.

"Oh hey, Daryl. Sorry, I was just.. reading."

Just reading?? Where did your social skills disappear to?

You wanted to apologize profusely to Daryl for not realizing he'd been standing there, not even knowing how long he'd been standing there, waiting to grab your attention.

It was cute how he didn't interrupt your reading, but some part of you wanted him to be the reason you did put the book down.

Daryl didn't mind though, he found it endearing how you couldn't tear your eyes away, as if even your peripheral vision was focused in on the story in that book, and nothing else.

It's the little things, this is the apocalypse after all.

In the back of his brain, there was a slight twinge of jealousy that made him want to be the object of your attention, in a similar way the book you clutched in your hands had it at the moment.

Daryl only nodded his head, brain void of any clear sentence after watching you read, until you spoke again.

"How was your hunt? Other than your deer.. which I'm sorry about, by the way." Your head tilted to the side, eyebrows raising in concern, since you overheard how upset he'd been over it earlier.

[Subconsciously, Daryl appreciated you asking about the hunt, and not about his brother. Then again, you probably would ask about him eventually.

"Oh yeah, the deer.. Don't think there was anythin' I could do about that, but thanks. Just caught a bunch of squirrel for stew."

His eyes softened as you looked up, brows furrowing before you spoke.

"Um.. squirrel stew?" You hesitated, disbelief in the words coming out of the archer's mouth. Daryl's head shook with disbelief, eyes widening a bit as he looked at you.

"Never had it?"

"No.. and I'm not sure if I want to.." Your nose wrinkled at the thought of eating those cute woodland creatures, ones you'd enjoyed seeing scurry around before the world ended. There was a slight laugh that came with your words, reassuring Daryl that you weren't making fun of him.

"Trust me, the way I make it, tastes just like-"

"If you say it tastes like chicken, Dixon..." Your hand raised in the air, pausing him from continuing his sentence. A laugh emerged from your chest at his absurd suggestion that squirrel would taste even remotely close to any other meat. A small smile cracked across his face, appreciating the fact that you were calming him from the state he'd been in earlier.

"Alright, it don't really taste like chicken. But it's real good if it's made right. And I just happen to do it up that exact way." His hands attached to his hips matter-of-factly.

"Well, I guess when you make that stew, you'll have to save a bowl for me." You closed the book, tagging your page and putting it down next to you.

"Nah. It's best when it's fresh, promise you'll get the first bowl when I get to makin' it. Maybe it'll change your mind about it.."

The banter between you both made you chuckle, nodding at his statement with a small smile. "Yeah, okay."

It warmed your heart to see Daryl so comfortable within the camp already, since his day hadn't gotten off to a great start. You hoped he wouldn't stop being so anytime soon.

Truth be told, he couldn't hold back the shy smile that weaved its way onto his face, but when Daryl fully felt it spread, you broke your eye contact with him for the first time.

"Question, do you know how long the group's been back?" Daryl asked, out of curiosity, since your answer would give him an idea of how long his brother's been out there.

"I think they got back late yesterday, Glenn apparently saved him from being swarmed by Geeks.. He was surrounded in a tank in the middle of Atlanta. I heard from him that Rick had been looking for his wife and son, imagine my surprise when they ended up in our group. Of all places.. " You chuckled at the amazing coincidence, "I saw him run up and hug them both yesterday.. It almost brought me to tears. I haven't seen anything like that in so long.."

You trailed off, smile dropping when you realize Daryl's listening to you go on about someone else's family, the day after he'd lost his.

"Sorry. I know you're going through something with your family and-"

"Nah, don' worry about me. I'm glad you told me 'bout Rick. Makes him seem more human an' less 'asshole that chained my brother to a roof'.."

You chuckled again, and Daryl actually smiled that time.

The sweet moment between the two of you settled, realization setting in his brain again: he's wasted so much time at camp, thinking his brother could be hurt, or worse out there on a rooftop in the city. He'd better get moving with the thing she had to get done before leaving.

Oh, how he would love to sit next to you and talk for hours..

"Hey look, I gotta go do some stuff before i leave for the city. It was nice talkin' with ya after the mornin' I had, so thanks."

You nodded again, appreciating Daryl for coming up to you and stealing your attention away from that damn book.

His grin lingers as he walks away from you, cheeks hurting by the time he gets back to his tent. Unzipping it, he steps inside and sits on the cot. Immediately, the pain in his feet withdraws as he kicks them up after taking his boots off.

His pack drops off of his back now, hand reaching inside for the familiar leather book. The pen topples out of the page Daryl had last written on.

"Alright, let's see here..."

The pen clicked, scribbling of ink onto paper scratched out a few words, and before he knew it, Daryl had written a whole paragraph.

Day four

The group made it back from the city later in the day, without Merle. Don't know exactly what went down, but some guy named Rick Grimes said he was a danger to the group an’ that he had to leave him behind. Told me he handcuffed him to some rooftop in the city. Found out just as I got back from hunting. Almost had a deer but a geek got to it first. Other than that shit I talked to Y/n after it all.. like the easiest thing in the damn world. Merle would call me a pussy if he knew I wrote in this damn journal. Anyway, goin' out as soon as possible with Rick an a few others to get Merle back.

The journal closes, Daryl's hand aching the slightest bit after he finished writing. He lay in the peacefulness of his tent for a few more minutes, then headed back out to camp. He grabbed his pack again, and another shirt, and reached for his bow before he remembered he'd left by the campfire.

Collecting his bow from where he'd left it earlier, he joins Glenn and T-dog over by the truck. It seemed they were the only ones ready to head out, as Daryl turns his head to see where Rick had gone.

Daryl watches Jim, Dale and Rick discuss from afar, pacing impatiently in the back of the truck. He grows tired of just watching them converse far enough away for him to be out of ear shot.

As he turns to Glenn in the driver's seat, Daryl presses his heel to the horn a few times.

"C'mon, let's go!" Their conversation breaks, Dale handing a pair of bolt cutters to Rick, finally heading towards the truck.

As Rick gets in the front seat, he loads his pistol. Daryl pulls the back door to the truck shut, the engine starting. Glenn put the truck in drive, and they were pulling out of the quarry.

The truck rumbled on top of the road, Daryl staring down T-dog in the back, as if that was going to be any type of useful. He sat across from him, with Glenn and Rick in the front seats.

"He'd better be okay. It's my only word on the matter."

"I told you, the geeks can't get at him. Only thing that's gonna get through that door is us." T-dog panted as he explained, once again.

Daryl wiped the corner of his mouth, listening to T-dog explain himself once again. Turning off the truck, Glenn peered behind him to the other two men.

"We walk from here."

The four men made it through a hole in a fence one by one, Rick breaking the silence to ask a question about the plan.

"Merle first, or the guns?"

"Merle! We ain't even having this conversation!" Daryl retorted quickly, not only knowing that it was quicker, but also due to the fact that he just wanted his brother back.

"We are." Rick turned to Glenn saying it's his call, since being the only one who knows the geography of the city.

To Daryl's surprise, Glenn mentions the words 'Merle first, guns second', and the rest of it is history.

They all scramble up the stairs of the building Merle had been chained on, energy straining low as the steps felt never ending.

7th floor, 8th floor... Damn how many levels does this place have?

Daryl's internal monologue of worry about his brother only made him that more eager to kick this damn door open already.

The guys paused as T-dog clipped the chain with his bolt cutters in one swift motion, Daryl growing impatient and using his foot to kick the door open as soon as it'd been freed from the chains. He darted out onto the rooftop, calling out Merle's name, hoping and praying his brother's voice would ring in his ears once again.

Though, there was no response to his call.

He ran frantically over to where the guys had said he'd been chained up, only to find a pair handcuffs dangling from around the metal rod.

What Daryl saw lying a foot away from the handcuffs was his brother's severed hand, and a hacksaw covered in blood.

"No.. No!"

Daryl looked back at the men of his group, despair in his voice and tears in his eyes, his cries of frustration and agony the only thing to be heard as they echoed throughout the city.

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devnmon · 1 year

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The Return to Atlanta.

Chapter Seven: Written in My Stars

gif by @userpascals

Summary: Daryl and the guys chase Merle's trail around Atlanta, running into some not-so-friendly faces. All they want to do is get the bag of guns, and find Merle. How can they do that if one of their friends is taken?

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter Warnings: a bit of violence, mentions of blood, Daryl and his snarky comments.

wc: 4.6k

Still staring down at the handcuffs and severed hand on the ground, Daryl's anger brought him to aim his bow at T-dog. The rage brewing inside of him couldn't help but put his thoughts to actions. Before he can make another move, the barrel of Rick's gun is aimed at his head.

"I won't hesitate, I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

Daryl blinks, hard, knowing he only has one way out of this. with a sigh, he lowers the bow. Still looking at T-dog, he asks if he’s got something he can pick his brother’s hand up in. Glenn's face breaks out in disgust as Daryl places the now wrapped hand into his backpack, explaining that Merle used a tourniquet on his wound, since the trail of blood he picked up on was minimal.

Without thinking, Daryl calls out into the building for Merle, not concerned about whatever could be attracted to the sound of his voice.

The four men descend a couple flights of stairs, following the archer as they venture through the building, and down a hallway until they spot the bodies of two geeks lying on the floor in another room, lifeless.

Clearly taken out by Merle, because who else could have done it?

The sight surprises Daryl, but he knows his brother better than anyone else does. So, he also expects it from him.

"Had enough in him to take out these sumbitches, one handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother… Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails."

"Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is."

Though Rick was technically right, Daryl’s method to his brothers madness was etched into his brain.

He follows the trail of blood drops down another hallway, before he's calling out again, this time getting a reaction out of Rick.

"Merle!"

"We're not alone here, remember?" Rick responds in a lower voice than the man beside him.

Daryl decided screw that, because his damn brother could be bleeding out somewhere nearby, only reiterating what Rick said so himself. He follows Daryl as he continues searching for the man throughout the building.

Crouched down low, Daryl spots the flames of a stove turned on high, filling the air with gas.

Sure enough, there was the tourniquet Merle used, his belt wrapped like it would be around his wrist, where his hand had been cut.

"What's that burned stuff?" Glenn asks, not sure if he was going to regret asking or not.

"Skin. He cauterized the stump." Watching as Rick picked up the iron, pieces of flesh burned to a crisp on it. Daryl only observes as both Glenn and Rick's faces contort and refuse to look back at it, and Glenn regrets his questioning the second he hears Rick's response.

Before the broken window gave away the fact that Merle left the building, the group discussed that his out there weren't as high as they'd like them to be, with the amount of blood he'd lost.

"No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks."

The looks of guilt on both T-dog and Glenn's faces was enough to make Daryl feel twice as bad about his brother being stranded and his disappearance.

They were both lucky Daryl hadn't seen it on their faces.

Daryl’s face reddens in his stressed state, the inability to stand still making him pace around the room again as they try to figure out where to look next.

"You couldn't kill him. Ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard.."

"What about a thousand dumb dead bastards? Different story?"

Daryl and Rick had been arguing over nothing at this point, getting pissed off by what the other one retorted and so on and so forth.

That is, until Rick explained to Daryl how he understood Merle was family and what he was going through, since he had just gone through hell to find his. Though he's pissed off, Daryl respects Rick a little more after he offers to check around a few blocks in the area, but only if done so with a level head. he agrees, and T-dog butts in.

"Only if we get those guns first. I'm not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?" T-dog speaks up, the safety of his group in mind.

They all agree finally, gathering in a different part of the room while Glenn draws out the plan. Daryl and Rick retort with their concern for his safety, since Glenn's plan strives on him going into the street alone for the bag of guns. He places some random small office supplies on the floor to demonstrate his plan as clear as possible.

Daryl's curiosity on how Glenn knows this much about the city streets and how to get around quickly defeats him.

"Hey kid, what'd you do before all this?"

"Delivered pizzas. Why?"

Before Daryl knew it, he was climbing down the side of a building into an alley with the baseball cap-wearing man, crossbow out as they headed to crouch behind a dumpster. Glenn's feet move quickly as he races out of the gate, leaving Daryl to wait for him there.

The plan quickly goes awry as Daryl is approached by a young kid, yelling for help in a language he didn't know, getting ambushed by two guys. Daryl's helpless as he's being pushed to the ground and beaten up, until Glenn runs back to the alley to see the scene.

Some guy calls glenn a vato as Daryl gets up in time to shoot one of the guys in the ass with an arrow. One of the other men backs up with glenn in a chokehold, completely powerless over him as he yells out. Before Daryl knows it, a car is pulling up behind them, as he watches both guys get into it and drive off.

Rick and T-dog are finally close enough to the two of them so Rick can restrain Daryl from punching the kid out. Daryl didn't realize that he was just a scared kid that was doing whatever it took for his group.

The next thing Daryl knows, he's lunging towards him without control, yelling out of blatant anger at how their plan got turned sideways on itself. Of course, Rick restrains him, pushing him back every time Daryl lunges forward at the kid again.

He's yelling, straining his voice, the walkers on the fence growling louder than Daryl is able to think.

"Get to the ladder, go!"

With that, the group retreats since being cut off by geeks, running back to the same ladder they'd come down from. The last thing Daryl sees is Rick grabbing the bag of guns and his hat before he starts running ahead without him.

"What the hell happened back there?"

"Told you, this little turd and his douchebag friends came outta nowhere an' jumped me."

Anxious as ever, Daryl paced. His gaze on the kid, Miguel, never faltered as they argued.

"Man, you're the one who jumped me, puto. Screaming about trying to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

Then Daryl explains to rick that his people took Glenn, which he thinks means they could've done the same to Merle.

"Merle? What kinda hick name is that? I wouldn't name my dog Merle."

Miguel pushes Daryl an inch further, sticking his foot out to kick him before he was getting restrained by Rick, again.

Daryl decides to bluff a little and scare the kid, grabbing his brother's severed hand from Glenn's pack and unwrapping it.

"Wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?"

Dropping the body part in the boy's lap, Miguel yelled out as he stood, the severed body part dropping onto the ground. Daryl threatens him again, until Rick pushes him away and explains to him that all they want to do is talk, to see if they can't work something out with the group.

After the boy gives up the location of where his group, the Vatos, are holed up, they find it's time to go meet Guillermo. Daryl and men crouch outside of the entrance now, their guns (and crossbow) loaded and cocked as they push the boy forward, watching the door open.

The first man that walks out is Guillermo, the man Miguel had mentioned before.

"You okay, little man?"

"They're gonna cut off my feet, carnal."

G looks to Rick, asking him, "Cops do that?", in which Miguel responds.

"Not him. This redneck puto here. Cut off some dude's hand, man. He showed it to me!"

"Shut up." Daryl retorts, crossbow aimed at the men before him.

Before G can continue, two other men emerge from the doorway, both holding guns pointed towards the men opposite them.

"Hey, that' that vato right there, homes. He shot me in the ass with an arrow, man. What's up, homes, huh?!" Guillermo insists the man put his gun down, and once he does, he continues talking to Rick.

"Chill, ese. Chill, chill. This true? He wants Miguelito's feet? That's pretty sick man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion."

"That hillbilly jumps Felipe's little cousin, beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet, Felipe gets an arrow in the ass, and you want a calm discussion? You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment. Mistakes were made on both sides." Rick pushes so desperately for this conversation to remain civil, and Daryl can tell.

"Who's that dude to you anyway? You don't look related."

"He's one of our group, more or less. I'm sure you have a few like him.

"You got my brother in there?" Daryl speaks up, wanting this conversation to move along to what he really wants to talk about: finding Merle.

"Sorry, we're fresh out of white boys. But I got asian, you interested?"

"I have one of yours, you have one of mine. Sounds like an even trade." Rick begins to bargain, but it's just not enough for G.

Guillermo then insists that the bag of guns was his, and demands that he and his people be given compensation for all their pain and suffering.

Rick is baffled at how the man insists on the aspect of playing finders keepers, even in the apocalypse.

A few other men raise their guns at the group, until Rick looks to T-dog who was sat on a high ledge with a sniper rifle. With that, G yells out, and Glenn appears on top of the roof, held back by another man, with duct tape over his mouth.

Guillermo insists that they come back with the guns, serving their best and worst options to them before retreating back inside with his men.

Back in the building they were loitering around in earlier, Rick starts going through all the guns in his bag, reloading them and making sure there's bullets in each chamber.

"You think that vato across the way is just gonna hand Glenn over?" T-dog asks, before Daryl gets overtaken with frustration at the aspect of their situation.

"You calling G a liar?"

"Question is, do you trust that man's word?"

"No, question is, what are you willing to bet on it? Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?"

Rick holstered his python, then looked to Daryl and spoke, the concerned look on his face showing more than what he said.

"What life I have, I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could've walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I."

"So you're gonna hand the guns over?"

"I didn't say that."

"There's nothing keeping you here. You should get out, head back to camp." Either Rick wanted to do this alone, or didn't appreciate the conflict or amount of opinions at the moment.

"And tell your family what?" The look on T-dog's face says it all, that they weren't going to leave him alone out here to deal with something that he might need their backup for.

Rick looks to each of the men again, and hands each of them a shotgun, loading them with shells as they head out again.

In the vato's territory again, they make their way into the building, Miguel first as they walk in, guns loaded.

"I see my guns, but they're not all in the bag." Guillermo begins.

"That's because they're not yours. I thought I mentioned that." Rick's looking down the barrel of a shotgun, as he begins to retort the same things he's said earlier.

Felipe steps up to Guillermo from behind him, anger in his voice prominent as he begins to speak, "Let's just shoot these fold right now, ese. Alright? Unload on their asses, ese."

"I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation."

"No, I'm pretty clear," Rick states before putting his gun down, then cutting Miguel's restraints around his wrists free, "You have your man, I want mine."

Guillermo hesitates for a moment, then decides to make another threat.

"I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs. They're the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked 'em up from Satan at a yard sale."

The look he shares with Rick is calling his bluff, before G makes another threat.

"I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?"

"My hearing's fine. You said come locked and loaded," Rick's shotgun cocking only triggers Daryl to do the same, him and T-dog raising their weapons as the rest of the room does as well, "Okay then, we're here."

Tension is thick in the air, Daryl staring down the barrel of his shotgun while Rick's is pointed directly at Guillermo. He thinks the next thing he's going to hear are multiple gunshots at one time, but a different sound comes instead.

"Felipe, Felipe!"

"Abuela, go back with the others- now."

"Get that old lady outta the line of fire!" Daryl yells, stiffness in his shoulders growing as he continues to hold the gun to eye level. G finally turns away from the receiving end of the gun, to speak to the older woman.

"Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay? This is not the place for you right now."

"Mr. Gilbert is having trouble breathing. He needs his asthma stuff."

Her voice almost pulls each of the men from their violent tendencies, the tone of her voice threatening to break in concern for the man she was talking about. G brushes Felipe off to go handle the situation with his Abuela, and before he can get out of the room with her, she looks at Rick and the other men out of curiosity.

"Who are those men?" Stepping forward, the three men lower their guns almost instantaneously. "Don't you take him, Felipe's a good boy."

"Ma'am? I'm not here to arrest your grandson."

"Then, what do you want him for?"

"He's.. helping us find a missing person. Fella named Glenn." Rick speaks, in the calmest way possible despite the threats made just moments ago.

"The asian boy? He's with Mr. Gibert. Come, Come, I show you."

"Let him pass."

The woman led the four men to a different part of the buildings, where there were even more elderly people. Daryl's eyes dart around in disbelief, the men's situation much different than they had let on.

Rick and the others approach a group of elderly people, surrounding the man who must be Mr. Gilbert. Among the group, Glenn stands near the others.

"What the hell is this?"

"An asthma attack Couldn't get his breath all of the sudden." The look on Glenn's face shows that he hadn't been beaten or tortured, much like Rick and Daryl had thought he was being.

"We thought you were being eaten by dogs, man!" Glenn's face turns to the three tiny chihuahuas behind him, sitting in a bed together.

"Can I have a word? You're the dumbest son of a bitch I've ever met." was the last thing Daryl heard as he watched Rick pull G to the side. "We walked in there ready to kill every last one of you."

Now with a lighter look on his face, G responds, "Well I'm glad it didn't go down that way."

"If it had, that blood would've been on my hands."

Guillermo explains to Rick how all the staff picked up and left when everything happened, that the workers left them there to die.

After a while, Rick leads the group out of the structure, giving some guns and ammunition to the group for protection. The walk back to their truck was tiring for the whole group, Daryl's feet aching.

"Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat." Glenn spoke to Rick about the cowboy sheriff hat that adorned the top of his head.

"Don't tell anybody."

"You've given away half our guns and ammo.." Daryl retorted, not understanding how Glenn could be making jokes after they could have walked away with the same amount of guns they'd entered the city to find.

"Not nearly half."

"For what? A bunch of old farts who are gonna die momentarily anyhow? Aeriously, how long do you think they've got?"

"How long do any of us?"

The four men expected for their truck to be in the same place they'd left it, but when their eyes trailed over to where it had been parked, they only saw the empty space where it had once been.

"Oh my god."

"Where the hell's our van?"

"We left it right there. Who would take it?"

"Merle."

"He's gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp.." Daryl looked down, the thought of his brother all amped up after a day and night of being exposed to the elements, and whatever else is out in the world now.

As the realization washed over all four guys, they stood in silence until Rick began walking forward.

"Where the hell you goin'?" Daryl called after Rick, already making distance from the other three men from where they stood.

"We've gotta get back to camp somehow. Come on." He called back at the group. With a groan, Glenn began walking to catch up with Rick, T-dog following, and eventually, Daryl too.

The group didn't make it to camp until way after dark, coming upon it as the herd's attack had been imminent.

They'd darted back into the camp, watching people run for their lives and screaming at the sight of horror that plagued their camp.

Daryl looked over at Andrea, crouched on the ground next to a body, one he figured out was Amy after he stepped closer.

"What the hell happened?" Rick's voice calls out, gaining the attention of Dale and Shane, whose clothes were covered in blood.

"Walkers came outta thin air. We were sitting around the campfire for dinner, and then..." Dale gestured to the blonde woman crouched next to her sister's corpse.

"My god.." was the last thing Rick said before jumping in to help take down the remaining walkers.

As sunlight started to shine, Daryl realized that he'd been up for two days without sleep; he beelined to his tent, wiping his hands off with his red rag again, as he sat down on his cot.

It was too comfortable in the moment, he thinks, because the sleep deprivation began to worsen. Daryl sat up straight and shook his head to wake himself up again before grabbing his journal.

Day seven

So... shit went down. Went back to the city for Merle who they all said was handcuffed to the top of a building. When we got there, he wasn't. But his hand was, and a trail of blood too. We followed it, but it didn't lead to nothin' except a dead end and broken window. He left the building 'fore we could get to him. Wherever he is out there, I hope he's alive. I'm tryin' to think about the future, like goin' from day to day and not thinkin' about the past. Then when we got back to camp, shit had already hit the fan here. Last night the group lost Amy, and Ed. Didn't know either of them all that well, but they ain't deserve to die like that. I'm gonna try an' sleep, so I got a clear head later on.

Daryl figures, by the time he finished with the journal, that he could probably get away with sleep while it was still dark out.

The sun had barely risen yet, and with that, he kicked off the boots on his feet, wrapping himself with a blanket, satisfaction and comfort washing over him the second his head hits the pillow.

Daryl soaks in his four hours of sleep, shaking awake at the sounds that filled the camp. He takes a sharp inhale, consciousness overtaking him as he woke from slumber. Raking his hair down again, Daryl stretches his arms out and sits up, blanket falling off his body.

As he stands, placing his feet on the floor, he stretches again, including his back, neck and legs this time. He was a bit more awake now, as he sat down again to pull his boots on. Once he changes his shirt, Daryl steps out of his tent, the bright sun blinding his sight for a moment.

He shakes his head free of the ache and heads up to the main camp, spotting you before he even makes it there.

You're standing on the outskirts of the campsite, watching timidly from afar. eyes fixed on Andrea and the sweet girl she had lost hours ago, you don't notice Daryl coming up behind you until you hear a gruff voice.

"Hey."

Your head whips around at the sound, recognizing the voice but only startled a little bit.

"Hey, Daryl. How was the city?"

"We ain't find Merle, if that's what you're askin'."

Daryl knew you didn't get along with Merle, and he knew how you really felt about his brother. But your words are different than what he thought they would be.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is he, um.." You pause, before a partial realization washed over you. Merle could be-

"Dead? Nah. My brother's tough as nails. He was just gone, when we got there. But from what it looked like, he survived that rooftop, which means he can survive out there with what he's done before. Ain't nothin' that can stop him."

You beamed inside at Daryl's hopefulness about his brother and where he might be. He had such hope for merle's survival. Nodding to Daryl, you glance over at Andrea again. She and Amy were like sisters to you, so to see her still over there pricked an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

Looking back to Daryl, you didn't even know if he knew what happened last night.

"Last night... do you know what happened?"

Daryl only shook his head, but looked at you with sympathy now, since you had probably witnessed all of it.

You turned to him, eyebrows pulling down in concentration to remember the chain of events clearly.

"It all happened so fast, you know..." You said, slight chuckle in your voice, though it was only to cover up how terrified you were in the moment. "One minute, we're sitting around the campfire, and the next, Amy's getting chewed into-"

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't wanna."

"N-No, you should know what happened. I wanna tell you, it's just hard to put into words."

Daryl only nodded, gesturing for you to continue. You took a deep breath before continuing to tell him what happened.

"Earlier in the day, Andrea, Carol and Jacqui and I were washing clothes down by the water. We'd been cracking jokes, having a genuinely nice time... and then Ed came walking over, too upset over the fact that we were having a good moment, just to come and ruin it. Started with some bigoted remarks and then- Then he just- he hit Carol.. and Shane stepped in and.. ended up beating the hell out of him."

"Holy shit.." daryl muttered under his breath, glancing to the ground and then back up at you.

"Yeah. I mean, it wasn't like he didn't deserve it. But that.. that was the last thing he ever did. He was laid up in his tent all day and night, his face bruised and bloody, thanks to Shane. Next thing you know, he's the first one to get gnawed on when the herd came out of the woods. Guess that's karma for you."

"They called it a herd? How big?" Daryl's brows were drawn together now, eye contact with you growing stronger as he leaned in.

"Probably 10 or 11 of them, all out of nowhere. First it was Ed, we didn't hear his screams.. But I glanced to the left and Amy's just-"

Your breath shudders, a chill running up your spine as you twist your head in unpleasantness. You take a deep breath in, letting it out slowly as you try and shake the thought of last night from your mind.

"You alright?" Daryl drawled lowly, concern for you growing every minute his eyes had been on you. He'd been watching you go on about the events of the night before.

Watching you relay the tragic events of last night made Daryl grow more fond of you in a way, knowing how difficult it must have been, to be as strong as you were in trusting him enough to tell him in the first place.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Despite it all... I think I really am. All the people i care about are alright and alive. So, I can cope with the walker thing. I've just never seen that many together. It was kind of disturbing, but I think i'm just desensitized to all the bad shit.."

What you didn't mention was that Daryl was one of the people you cared about, one who was alive after last night.

"And now Andrea's over there hovering over her sister's corpse as it rots, and she could turn any minute now-"

You turned to Daryl, his deep blues focused on your figure. He could've sworn time stopped when you looked at him in the eyes, as a sign of trust between you two grew stronger with just that exchange of words.

"Other than everything that happened here, are you alright, Daryl?"

Caught off guard at your question, he glanced to the floor, chewing on the inside of his cheek before turning his head towards you and nodding. Daryl had never been asked that in a genuine way before. not by someone he's actually trusted before, either.

"Yeah, I'll be alright. Just gotta get through the day now. Then we can handle everything and move on."

"We will be alright. Listen, Daryl, if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here, as your friend."

The corner of Daryl's mouth nudged up the slightest bit as your words hit his ears, fingers pressing to your lips in the moment. He nodded at you, not feeling his smile widen until you had one on your face as well.

"Thanks, I'd do the same for you. As your friend." That last part was choked out on Daryl's end, hoping you didn't notice it. He was about to speak when he heard someone call his name from up in camp.

"Daryl! you out here? We need help with the bodies, you comin'?"

Daryl cleared his throat, and called back out to the voice.

"Give me a damn minute." His drawl came out rougher, like he was frustrated he had an actual job to do, rather than sitting around talking to you all day.

"Guess they need you over there, Mister Dixon. Better hurry before Dhane comes over here."

"Yeah, I'll see you around, y/n."

You laughed, pushing Daryl away playfully, sending a small smile his way, as he turned his back to you.

"See you, Daryl."