Arrowhead ➳ Daryl Dixon

t h i r t y - t h r e e

"Presley!"

Daryl cursed himself. If one more damn person says her name they're gonna get socked in the face. He watched with a frown as Mika ran past, following by the loping Zeva. He turned to see Presley lean down to embrace Mika, pulling the girl into the air and spinning around. Zeva hopped on her hind legs, letting out a shrill yip.

Pathetic. He felt pathetic. Watching her with that thin smile on her face made him roll with jealousy, but of what? Nothing. He was jealous of absolutely nothing because nothing was making her happy. He wanted to be the one who caused that happiness, but all he did was piss her off. Feeling pain towards her smile, he turned away, grumbling softly to himself.

"Somebody's cranky." A sarcastic voice commented. He didn't have to look to know that it was Carol. She wasn't the only one who saw his frustration towards Presley, for Michonne saw it as well. The two just sat and watched, as if reading a really good story out of a book. This wasn't a damn story, it was hell. Daryl ran a hand through his hair, looking at Carol in annoyance.

"I am not cranky." He protested with a rumble, looking back over to Presley, who was now kneeling beside Mika. He frowned when he saw Stefan approaching the two, the same stupid smile portrayed on his face. Fuck you. As if Stefan had heard Daryl's harsh words, he looked up, the dumb-ass smile on his face never faltering. Daryl simply turned back to Carol. "There's fucking dead people walking around and they're over t'ere screaming and having a little tea party."

Carol rolled her eyes, giving Daryl a friendly punch to the shoulder. He looked at the elder woman with annoyance. "I know it's beyond that. You'd be perfectly fine with the noise if it were you there instead of Stefan or Mika." Carol said, offering a small smile. She didn't pause to give him time to answer, simply looped her arm through his and started walking. "But you'll come to find that you're not the only jealous one around here."

He looked back over to Presley, finding that she was watching himself and Carol. A small frown now added the slightest imperfection to her face, but she looked away before he could do anything. Carol continued to lead him away, and he let her.

"You'll get her, but you can't keep standing off to the side and waiting for her to come dashing into your arms." She said, pulling away from him.

"She is careless."

"And so are you." The woman retorted, jabbing Daryl in the chest. "You can't protect her- she's a stick of dynamite that's just waiting to go off... But so are you, Daryl." She said, stepping closer. "That's why you two don't seem compatible- you're both the same."

"Me an' that she-devil are nothing alike." Daryl spat, but horror was unleashed as he soon came to realize that Carol was right. All this time he'd been trying to hold back an open flame, when that was impossible. You had to guide it. He'd been about Presley all wrong.

He nearly kicked himself for just realizing that now.

He was trying to use his breath to blow out a wild fire, instead of using the river to redirect it. Presley couldn't be stopped, but she could be controlled. He looked down at Carol, and she smiled in amusement as the cognizance came upon him. Suddenly he turned, marching away from Carol quite quickly. She was left alone with a bright smile on her face.

- - -

"Beth, how long has it been since you've ridden a horse?" Presley asked. She sat on the wooden fence, balanced perfectly with her hands in her lap. Beth had a rope tied loosely around the horse's neck, but beyond that, no other equipment. Presley tossed a stale cracker into her mouth, watching Beth with curious eyes.

"Not for a long, long time." She muttered as she led the mare to the edge of the fence. "Could you hold her for a minute?" Brushing the crumbs off her hands, Presley hopped down from the fence and approached the mare, who simply looked annoyed.