my tears ricochet

Chapter Fifty Six

"Tell me if it hurts," he told Ivy, "Don't wanna pull."

The section in his hands slowly work itself freed and Daryl gently ran the comb through it to make sure that thin teeth weren't catching on anything. Her hair was already damp from a quick wash in the creek and it made the work easier, dedicated to the task of easing each knot. Ivy's hair was thick and curled easy enough, but between the trip to Terminus and the escape, it had formed angry snarls that caught on her fingers when she tried yanking it away from her face.

Eventually his work was complete but Daryl ran the comb through a few more times, noticing the way the tension in her shoulders dissolved from the practise. But eventually he had to stop, tapping her shoulder to catch her attention. "Better go wash it out again. Come back and I'll fix it up for you."

She had changed back into her clothes after her quick wash in the creek and hadn't bothered to put the sling back on. Ivy cradled her arm tight to her chest with her good hand. "Okay."

"Hey, where's that sling?"

His luck, she would have tossed it into the creek in an effort to escape it. Ivy scowled at him. "With my stuff."

Her few items were folded neatly next to his. Daryl would have to busy himself in her absence by fitting it into Oscar's bag. The sling was barely visible from beneath the spare shirt Maggie had found her. "Get," he scowled back, messing her hair up to annoy her into smiling.

Sasha was still at the creek keeping watch. Modesty didn't mean much on the road but they tried to divide the time at the water, men earlier in the morning and the women after. Ivy was safe to run the short distance to the creek with the older woman keeping a sharp eye out on any danger looming.

Daryl crossed the church to their supplies and pulled Oscar's bag close, digging through the contents with a practised hand. He was a bigger man and the few spare items of clothing could be split between Abraham and Tyreese. There was a slim paperback of poetry and bag of pecans, and when he opened the book up he saw the man's familiar writing. 'Mika and Lizzie.'

He wasn't sure why he had recorded the names of the girls onto the first page. It might have been a way of remembering one girl killed and the other abandoned, or it might have been something different. Daryl would never know.

Carol had admitted a few details earlier, guilt heavy across her shoulders. He still remembered that deathbed promise to look after the pair, the woman collecting two new lives to watch out for. And then one killed the other as soon as Carol's back was turned.

Daryl tore the page from the book and shoved it in his pocket incase Ivy got bored and started looking at it. He finished shoving their items into the bag and left her sling out, waiting with a nervous ball of energy tight against his chest. Daryl felt edgy in Ivy's absence, his desire to keep control slipping. But eventually she returned, face brightening when she saw him.

She had worked the conditioner out but he still ran his fingers through her hair to check for any new tangles. The length of it left her shirt wet and he pulled it carefully, binding it into a simple braid. It had been a lifetime since Lori had cut the split ends at the farm and eventually someone would have to make the girl sit long enough to do the job a second time, but he said nothing, content to form the braid.

He tied it off with the elastic she offered. And, because he knew his kid, he caught her by the wrist before she could move off. "Gotta put it on."

"It's fine, I don't need it."

"Wasn't asking for your opinion, kid. C'mon."

Daryl helped her gently get situated, her healing limb locked into place. Bob had started working her through with a few quick exercises and stretches to help strengthen the shoulder and Ivy had committed to the task, intent on discarding the restricting sling as quickly as possible. "Bob said it was okay now. I don't need it."