Broken strings---➤ Daryl Dixon

19

The nights are long and cold. It has been a few months or more since the farm, although I lost track of days a long time ago. Snow falls daily, thick white blankets that slow us down. But we pray that it makes the walkers much slower.

Each day we scavenge. Finding resources, and places to hold up for a night or two before moving onwards. After the farm, no house feels good enough, safe enough. Our group feels disjointed since Rick fully stepped into being a leader. Some of the others still had their disagreements for a while, including Glenn which meant for the first time in a long time we didn't see eye to eye.

As the temperature dropped and surviving became harder, I think the others began to realize that they would probably be dead already if it wasn't for Rick, and so they slowly let go of their anger. Except for Lori. She and Rick would barely speak for weeks on end. Carl had noticed this too and so I spent a lot of time with the kid, trying my best to distract him. He killed his first set of walkers this past week, becoming more accustomed to this world. Lori has started to show that she was pregnant as well, almost like a ticking time bomb. We couldn't still do this in a few months, we needed a secure home, somewhere warm and safe where she could deliver this baby.

There was one night, I imagine mid to late January, when the snow just kept falling. I had spent that day with Daryl, he had started teaching me how to track better. Using the snow could be either helpful or a hindrance. Snow prints are more clear to see and track, but new snow can quickly cover them up so we had to work fast. Plus most animals had long been in hibernation, so we never came back with much, but I was thankful for the lessons.

We also collected snow, to boil and drink. It wasn't the nicest but it kept us alive. That was all we could focus on, keeping ourselves alive. It took up all our energy and every day was exhausting. But that night when the snow didn't stop, was quite possibly the worst. I had started to feel cold and shivery, which wasn't unusual but it was paired with a migraine. Once Daryl and I had returned with a few dead birds, I told him I had to lie down.

I left the others and entered one of the spare bedrooms of the house and almost instantly fell asleep.

 I woke up to Glenn, bringing me some food, outside the window was pitch black and we were well into the evening. His eyes widen when he sees me.

"You're burning up." His voice was laced with concern but my mind was foggy and I couldn't bring myself to answer. He leaves me with the food and goes to get what limited medication we have. He also returns with Hershel, Rick and Daryl.

"Guys," I choke out, "I'm fine." I try to insist but it's no use.

I am ordered to bed rest and I tell them to all leave me alone. If I have the flu, or maybe something worse, as Hershel theorises, then I don't want anyone else getting sick. Glenn sits outside the room for a while, he talks to me for a bit. Even though my body shakes and is in agony, I don't tell him. I know he will only want to come in and I can't risk getting him ill.

I felt like I was dying.

The house was quiet, the others must've gone to sleep by now but everything hurts and I can barely breathe. I lie awake shivering for hours but then the door creeks open.

I can't move to get my flashlight, I just tell whoever it is to go away.

"No." A gruff voice barks back in the darkness.

"Daryl I don't want you to get sick."

"I made you some tea. Fancy herbal shit I found the other day. It might help." He ignores my commands for him to leave and I feel the side of the bed dip as he sits down beside me. I cave, and thank him for the tea, taking small sips.