Feral

2/10

On the next morning, Daryl was again at the warehouse doors. He'd tried to think how to make the woman trust him, come back to the prison with him, but he hadn't come up with anything. Sighing, he knocked on the door.

"Hey...it's Daryl. I brought you food and water...I'm gonna leave it here and step back, alright?" Daryl left the package of dried meat on the ground next to a bottle of water, and he took a few steps backs, waiting, until finally the door of the warehouse moved.

The woman lifted it up just enough to look outside and check that Daryl was alone and without any weapon aimed at her, and he rushed to hold his empty hands in front of him, unwisely unarmed once again, his knife sheathed on his belt and his crossbow on his bike. Once she was sure, the woman lifted up the door completely. She looked at Daryl with those deep, black eyes that seemed to look deep inside him and then glanced at the food.

"Take it, I go out hunting every day and we also have gardens, we got enough food to spare," Daryl explained, he didn't know why. "Same with the water, we pump it inside from the creek outside the prison. If you came with us, you wouldn't be hungry or thirsty again."

The woman didn't say anything, just looked at him again, holding her knife and silent, and Daryl wasn't surprised. He chewed on his thumbnail, wishing he knew what to do. "You got a name?" He asked her, and there was no reply. "No? So...I've been thinking of you as a feral cat so...I'll call you that, uh?" He half-joked, unsure of how she was going to react.

There was again that scoff but also a smirk, and the same words. "Screw you," she rasped, and then she shrugged, looking down. "I like cats."

Daryl thought those were as many words as she'd ever told him and he couldn't help his small smile. "Cats are okay...I like dogs."

"Yeah?" The woman frowned at him...she was talking to him, she wasn't hiding or attacking him...this had to be progress, but Daryl wasn't sure of how to move forward from that.

"Yeah...why?"

"You look like you like cats."

Daryl blinked at her, puzzled. "Why?" He asked but the woman just shrugged. "It ain't that I dislike them...I like them, I just like dogs more."

"'Cos you never had a cat, then."

Daryl couldn't believe that they were really talking...he hoped he wouldn't screw it up. "Maybe...never had a dog before either...you ain't the first feral cat I feed, though..." Daryl smirked at the woman, turning into a full smile when she smirked back, still on alert but not as guarded and on edge as she had seemed once, at least she didn't look like she was about to flee or stab him at any moment, even if she was still holding her knife.

She chewed on her lip and then stepped away from the warehouse and towards the package of food, bending down to pick it and the water. "Thanks," she murmured.

"It's...it's fine, just...come with me?" Daryl tried again. The woman looked at him, then down, seeming torn, but she shook her head softly. Daryl took a deep breath before speaking again. "I know it sounds impossible, but it ain't. You'll be safe with us, I promise. You won't have to hide alone from walkers or people no more, or go hungry. Just come with me. Nobody will hurt you again. I promise."

Daryl thought that some sort of emotion seemed to reflect on the woman's eyes, but soon she was looking down, and Daryl was going to give up, when she spoke. "Why?"

"'Cause...'cause you look like you need it. And I can help you...so I wanna." Daryl shrugged.

"I hurt you," the woman said, eyes on him, and Daryl hoped that she really didn't think this was all something that he was doing to get back at her in retaliation or something.