Both Eyes Open - Daryl Dixon (under editing)

Lay down your weapons.

Quick, silent, precise steps led him through the dull, seemingly empty forest. The foliage beneath his heavy duty boots barely made a sound as he treaded lightly on his toes, eyes narrowed, intent in catching the next meal.

He needed a break from the group he had joined at the start of the apparent end of the world.

Shane and Lori were annoying him endlessly, with their constant doe eyes toward one another, and their sneaking around thinking nobody knew what was going on between them, even though everyone knew, except Carl, Lori's son. Eds' horrible treatment of Carol was not going unnoticed by the members in the camp. And his brother, Merles' brash, unpredictable actions were getting insanely frustrating.

He needed to get away even just for an hour.

Every twist and turn he took through the trees, the grasp on his crossbow did not let up, prepared to strike at any given moment. You never know what lurks around the corner, out of sight, in a walkers world.

Out of the corner of his eye somethings dashed about carelessly. Swinging himself round and crouching low, he spied the hare from a distance, and steadied himself on his honkers, controlling his breathing, aiming at the animal as it nibbled on its last meal.

An arrow suddenly pierced the helpless creatures fur body and it toppled over, shocking the redneck. Before he had a chance to even move, a cold sharp object scraped lightly across the back of his exposed neck, and he tensed involuntarily, slowly as he could reaching down his pant leg for his dagger.

"Don't even think about it." A distorted, muffled voice emanated from behind his head and he sighed exasperatedly in unhappy defeat. "Lay down your weapons. All of them. I ain't afraid to frisk you." The voice commanded him.

Lifting the strap of his crossbow from his neck, Daryl felt the metal lift lightly away from his skin, giving him room to remove his weapon, and he took this instant opportunity. With speed he didn't realise he had, he spun on his knee, shoving his arms into their stomach, to off balance the stranger and knocked the object, he now learned to be a bow and arrow, to the ground.

Regaining balance quickly, the stranger, who stood at five foot seven inches easily, lunged at his torso, toppling him down to the ground, but once on the mucky floor, Daryl used his strength to force the person over onto their back so that instead of them straddling him, it was him straddling them.

Looking down on them he noticed their face was covered by a thick grey scarf. They wore heavy duty gear, truly kitted out in post apocalyptic attire, a rifle slung behind their back, which must be extremely uncomfortable to be forced onto with his weight on top of them.

Pulling a knife from their jacket the person swung viciously for his face, but Daryl timed their movements to perfection, and he caught their wrists mid swing, and pinned them above their head.

Writhing and squirming uncontrollably below him, Daryl lowered his head to face the person closely and said with a scowl, "You got some fight in you shorty. But it ain't enough."

He then leaned back and reached forward to remove the scarf covering their face, and the beanie hiding their hair from view. The person tilted their head bemused and raised an eyebrow daring him to continue.

Before taking away the bandana, the person kicked up on their legs and sent Daryl hurtling above them on his chest, and they speedily moved to secure him. Slinging their rifle off of their back they sat awkwardly on his back, the tip of the rifle aimed at his neck.

"Well this ain't fair!" Daryl grunted, "Ye ain't even gonna gimme a merciful death."

There was a strange pause before the stranger spoke monotonously, "Who said anything about death? I'm not gonna kill you dude, I just want my dinner. My arrow- my meal." Then they simply stood up off of him, slinging the gun onto their back, and picking up their fallen bow and arrow.

Daryl clambered to his feet in an instant and stood defensively, squinting his eyes at the stranger warily, as they walked carelessly toward the hare, pulled out the arrow, cleaned it, and tied the bunny to the side of their back pack.

"You attacked me for a goddamn rabbit?"

"You still whining on like a pretentious little brat?" the person mocked.

Furious, Daryl took a few steps forward bending down to pick up his crossbow, when he heard the pluck of an arrow releasing from the bow in the strangers hands. Briefly his heart jolted, until he heard the dull thud of a body dropping right behind him.

Turning to look at the walker, he pulled the arrow from its head.

Perfect shot, he mused.

He turned round to go after the stranger to give back the arrow, only to find that she stood right behind him, scarf pulled down, a smirk adorned on her face, and the black beanie pulled off, revealing the luscious brown hair the unknown girl hid underneath it.

Wide eyed, and without thinking, Daryl blurted, "Yer a girl?"

"A woman, actually. Arrow?" She asked, hand raised expectantly.

Frowning slightly, he dropped the arrow into her hand and watched her as she effortlessly slid it back into its sheath with the other arrows, before looking down to the ground with a sigh.

"I'm afraid that precautions have to be taken here. I can't have you chasing after me."

Before confusion had even settled in, her leathered gloved hands were placed, one at the back of his head, and one across his nose and mouth, holding a handkerchief, dosed in chloroform.

Accidentally taking in a large gasp of air, Daryl instantly felt woozy and weak, falling slowly down, which is when she removed the cloth from his face.

"It's not enough to conk you out, just enough to make sure you don't make an idiotic mistake in following me."

"Ye little bitch..." He mumbled angrily.

"Ye little thief." She mocked him with his accent, before returning her serious expression, saying, "Think twice next time before aiming for my food."

And with that she left the redneck leant up against a tree, lethargic, and with a bottle of water, before jogging off, back to wherever she had come from.