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"I'm going out." Daryl states the following morning, unzipping the tent. "Can't just keep sitting on my ass doing nothing when we got ourselves a trail."

I sit up. "I'll get my stuff."

"Naw, you stay here." He replies, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder, turning back to me and pointing at the cot. "Give it a day."

I let out a huff of indignation. "I've given it three days. I'm coming with."

Daryl sighs, turning back and sitting on my cot.    His cerulean eyes bore into mine. "Just stay, alright?" I shake my head, and he scoffs in annoyance. "Well why the hell not?" He raises his voice, standing up abruptly. "You won't make it ten feet with those ribs. You'll just slow me down." He growls venomously his face inches away from mine as he points an accusing finger at me.

I sigh calmly, sitting criss-cross on the cot. "When we met by the river... Do you know why I was alone?"

He gives a half-hearted shrug, turning away from me as he runs his finger along an arrow.

"I used to have a different camp. White Rock. I was one of three runners, and we got sent out to try and find supplies in the city." I blink once. "The other runners and I, we were close. And, Denali, he said he wanted me to stay at camp because he thought it was too dangerous for me in Atlanta." I can't stop emotion from rising in my voice, and Daryl turns back to look at me. "They... They never came back. They died in Atlanta, and I was just sitting at camp like--" The emotion overwhelms me and I try to quiet myself. Hesitantly, Daryl takes a step closer.

"It's not your fault." He says softly. "Atlanta was overrun, it was---"

I nod. "I know. But I should have been there." I whisper, standing up. I sling my bow and quiver over my shoulder, turning back to look at him. "Even if I slow you down, I want to be there." I smile sadly. "I told you I'd have your back, didn't I?"

Daryl looks at the ground, then back at me. "I got yours."

•••

I sit on the ground at breakfast, leaning on the heels of my hands. Daryl sits beside me in a folding chair, slouched as he hastily eats his food with his fingers. Carol offers him a second serving, which he greedily accepts. I shake my head at him with a smile, biting into my peach. 

"You sure you don't want any eggs, honey?" Carol offers me a plateful.

"I'm okay, thank you." I reply with a smile.

"Um, guys?" Glenn nervously steps in front of the group.

We all look up at him expectantly.

"So..." He begins, anxiety edging his voice. "The barn is full of walkers."

My head snaps toward him in alarm.

Minutes later, the group surrounds the barn at the edge of the field.

"You cannot tell me you're alright with this." Shane snarls at Rick.

"No, I'm not. But we're guests here. This isn't our land." Rick tries to remain calm.

The others agree with Shane.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug." Andrea argues.

"It ain't right. Not remotely." T-Dog remarks, looking back at the barn with disgust.

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