188. (TWD) Daryl Dixon - Stone Cold

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Summary: a group of strangers appear on the Greene farm, and there's one particular redneck looking for a child.

Warnings: Kath trying to write about horses, twd gore and violence, cursing, grumpy Daryl. Also unedited I'm too lazy to edit right now.

Pairing: Daryl X Reader (Maggie's best friend)

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People from the city pisses Daryl off to no end. It doesn't matter which city they're from, they all have the same snotty attitudes and look down at people like him. It made him sick ever since he was a young boy, ever since Merle drilled into his head that city people hated people like them.

Then the world ended.

He thought somehow his view on city folk would change. But as stubborn as Daryl is, the feeling didn't change or go away. Because city folk, like the people in the group he was in, still looked down at him like he was trash. Like he was stupid or a fucking caveman who couldn't understand. But he did. He was the goddamn hunter, the survivor, the one who was prepared for the world to end. He and his brother were the ones who were in charge now; who knew what the hell they were doing.

Daryl feels like he's the only one who has a goddamn heart left in the group. There's a little girl missing, and the rest have turned their backs on the rescue search. Yeah, there's a chance she's dead, but what if she wasn't? Don't they want answers regardless, instead of ignoring Carol's pleas to continue or his own suggestions?

But here he is, in the middle of the fucking woods that's sweltering and there's no trace of Sophia. To make it more difficult, there's a person from the city that insisted they came with. A stranger. Someone who's holding the rifle oddly, but with some familiarity. Someone who looks out of place and kind of awkward on their horse. But they were someone who actually gave a damn about Sophia too, so Daryl reluctantly accepted their help.

They didn't talk much, except for the occasional swear when their horse made an odd step or when a branch snapped in the distance. They made a comment about how "fucking hot it is out here" and how much they were sweating.

He hasn't been on the farm long, and he only knew their name, Y/N. How you enjoy staying up late and getting up early to watch the sun rise and set. How you hate using guns but were raised to do so on this very farm. That was about it. But it didn't matter, he knew that his group would be moving on eventually due to Hershel and Shane's clash of interests. Whatever, he would think. All he cares about is surviving and not getting bit and killed.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the sound of rushing water in the distance. A good sign. He makes his horse move a bit faster to reach the river, and it soon comes into sight. It makes goosebumps appear on his flesh; how good it would feel to just jump in the cold water. As he watches the water flow below, he doesn't watch in front of him. He only hears the hiss of a snake, and he's suddenly being thrown from the horse.

You're cursing behind him, but your voice grows fainter as he rolls down the massive, steep hill and into the water below. He feels a huge stab of pain in his side, and that and the impact of the ground below knocks him out cold.

"Daryl!" You cry out when he rolls to a stop at the bottom. When he doesn't move, you fucking panic. "Shit, shit, shit, shit." You take the reins and your horse quickly goes into a run, you know there's a path leading to the bottom, but fuck, you don't know how long it will take. What if he drowns? What if he hit his head to hard and-

"Dammit, Y/N, don't panic," you grip the reins tighter, the sudden downhill slope making branches scrape against your arms and whips against your face. But you don't care.

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