The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

nine.

I locate a tree to lean against, to let everything sink in. We were really talking about murdering someone. I get it, for our safety. Killing the living dead is one thing, but another living breathing human? Then again, I did threaten Shane because his arrogance could get us all killed. Randall could, too, because of his group. Why am I suddenly questioning my morals?

"Vanessa." Daryl gently whispers, bringing me out of my inner monologue. I must've really zoned out, since I didn't hear him approach. Damn it, I'm usually good with not letting people sneak up on me.

"Oh, he knows my name." I smirk in his direction, taking a drag off my cigarette. I pull out my pack, offering him one.

He takes it, lighting it. "I didn't know ya smoked."

"Old habits die hard." I shrug, flicking the ashes to the ground.

Grunting at my answer, "You and I are gonna go bring your tent over next to me when we're done here. It shoulda been done when we found out about the walkers. You're gonna stay away from the barn and Randall."

"Daryl-"

"And you're not guarding him anymore. You're not to go near him." He looks up at me, anger towards Randall simmering in his Georgian blue eyes.

"Where is this coming from? No one's been concerned about where my tent was until today. Even Glenn said something." I run my hand through my blue hair, "I don't exactly feel safe being close to Shane while I'm sleeping." I admit quietly, biting my lip in embarrassment.

Daryl has become someone I could trust. I don't know if I would call us friends, but there's a safety I feel around him. I don't feel that often. I've only ever found it within myself.

"You'll be next to mine." He pauses, "I don't want ya by yourself if his group comes lookin for him." He throws his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out. "My camp is tucked away from the everyone else." Still away from Shane, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Over the next hour, we tore down my tent, dragging it and my things over next to Daryl's. We barely speaking to each other over the course of it.

When did Daryl start to actually care? Did hell freeze over? Did I miss something? Maybe it's because there is safety in numbers. We could be facing a threat. Randall was only a kid, but from the sounds of the group he ran with, they're dangerous.

Once we are done, Daryl asked me to go with him to help collect some firewood. It's better than sitting on my hands listening to everyone fight over what's to come.

Do I think Randall deserves to die? No. But with him being here threatens everyone I've come to care about. These people took me in when they didn't have to. Over the course of the last few weeks, I've started thinking of them as family. If it comes down to this guy, or my family, I'd do anything to protect them.

"Carol send you?" Daryl asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. Glancing up, I see Dale heading our way.

He comes to stop in front of us, "Carol's not the only one that's concerned about you, your new role in the group."

Daryl is clearly already annoyed, "oh, man, I don't need my head shrunk. This group's broken. I'm better off fending for myself."

Funny, says the man, who dragged me out of my little corner on the farm to his corner. I roll my eyes in their direction. I continue to listen to their banter, choosing to stay out of it. It's their conversation, I'm just a pretty little wallflower. Or gate flower, rather.

Daryl and his hard ass exterior. I can tell he's hurting. Anger is easier to handle then the mess pain brings. He really thought we would bring Sophia back to her mother. But hell will freeze over before those words slip out of this mouth. Broken people can spot other broken people.