The sky started turning beautiful shades of pink, orange, light blue, and red as the sun rose on the horizon. The wind was cool and bit into my skin, causing me to shiver as my skin erupted in goosebumps. I looked all around me, feeling tranquil as the sounds of birds chirping popped up in every direction. This is the first time since this happened that I feel peaceful as if nothing has happened to the world and all is good. I squeezed my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to keep myself warm in the crisp morning breeze. I was alone on the porch, finally giving up on my attempt to sleep as none found me throughout the night. I couldn't help but feel the dull pang in my chest as I worried about Daryl and the rest of the group, hoping they were safe and already on their way here. I've gotten so used to being by Daryl's side all the time that I couldn't help but think about him every so often, wondering what he was up to and if he was protecting them. I heard the door open behind me, not bothering to turn and see who was joining me on the porch.
"You sleep, okay?" I heard Shane's accented voice ask me. I turned to look at him and gasped slightly at his newly shaven head. He looks so much better bald!
"I couldn't sleep, so I've been up all night." I said quickly as I got up to stand beside him, "I like it!" I exclaimed, bringing my hand up to rub the smoothness of his head. He quirked his lips upwards and leaned against the railing, his hands finding their place in his pockets.
"What's the plan for today?" Shane asked me, gazing at the horizon, admiring the rising sun.
"Well, hopefully, the rest of the group with come today without any problems." I started leaning against the house, "Then Daryl and I can start looking for Sophia."
"Just you two?" Shane asked, "I don't like the sound of that."
"Rick won't be able to come since he gave a lot of blood yesterday. He'll end up passing out," I explained, darting my eyes to his ankle. "And you can't come either cause of your ankle."
"It ain't that bad." He muttered, shaking his head. Ha! It's so swollen that it resembles an elephant's leg! Not so bad, my ass.
"It is bad." I stressed, "I would rather you stay here and take care of your ankle. Who knows how bad you can damage it if you keep trying to run on it."
"We'll just have to ask Hershel then," Shane said, his sharp brown eyes meeting mine. It was obvious that he didn't like the idea of sitting today out, but he had to! The more he's on that foot, the worse his ankle will get. I rolled my eyes at the stubborn man and bit my lip, trying not to piss him off this early in the morning.
"So," I began, "I thought we could make a memorial for that man they lost last night." Shane continued to stare at me, his gaze hardening. Is there something wrong with my suggestion? Either way, I continued, "We can help them make a little grave of stones out somewhere and say a few last words. I think that would help them mourn him."
"Whatever you say," Shane muttered, shrugging his shoulders. Since he got back last night, something has been off about him. Something seems to bother him more than usual, which worries me. I don't know what went down last night, but it had to be something big to bother him like it is. The sound of the door creaking made me divert my gaze from Shane, stopping all thoughts I had on the subject matter. Maggie stood in the doorway, watching Shane and I.
"Morning." I greeted her. She didn't look too good this morning with her red, puffy eyes, but no one could blame her. They all lost someone dear to them. If Maggie looks and feels like this, I feel for Patricia. From what I learned, she was married to Otis, the man that shot Carl and went with Shane to get the respirator. Pobrecita.
"Morning." She repeated, "You both sleep okay?"
"Oh yeah," I answered, omitting that I didn't get any sleep, "I just want to thank you and your family again for helping us." Maggie nodded at me, her lips pursed. "I was thinking about approaching you or your father about making a memorial for your friend, Otis. Since we don't have a body, we can't have a burial, but I thought we could pile up stones, say a few words, and have a moment of silence to honor his life." Maggie gave me a sad smile and nodded, her eyes filling with tears as a sob racked through her body. I rushed forward and hesitantly wrapped my arms around her, trying to comfort the strange woman.
"That would be beautiful." Maggie sobbed, "I'll let Daddy and Patricia know." I nodded at her and let her go, watching as she disappeared back into the house. I turned back to Shane; his eyes were firmly glued on me, and his face was expressionless as he stared. I returned his gaze, questions running through my mind. Why is he so hostile this morning? What's with this death glare set upon me? I haven't done anything other than suggest a memorial, and he looks about ready to kill me.
"June." I turned and saw Hershel, his button-up, pants, and suspenders already in place as he came out to meet me. "Maggie told me about the memorial you had in mind."
"What do you think?" I asked him, hoping that he wouldn't completely hate the idea. He stepped closer to me, a sad smile on his features.
"I think it's a great idea." He whispered, "Otis was a good man and a friend." I smiled at him, understanding how much they were in pain over his death, and I honestly believe the memorial will help them come to terms with his death. "There's a beautiful spot by a tree. Let me show you." I followed him as he walked out into the surrounding land. I couldn't help but admire the openness and the beauty of the land he owned, something I could only dream of owning. We stopped in front of a huge tree, the branches providing shade. He was right about the spot being gorgeous. The tree was on top of a small hill that overlooked most of the farm, and the rising sun gave it a sparkle that made you stop and catch your breath; it was utterly breathtaking.
"This is beautiful, Hershel." I smiled up at him. He gave me a tight smile, his gaze returning to the house.
"I'll get my daughters and Jimmy to help you." Hershel said, "Thank you for suggesting this." I nodded at him and followed him back to the house, seeing Glenn and T-Dog up and talking. I bounced up the steps and greeted them, happy to see T-Dog feeling better and back to his usual self.
"How you feeling today, T?" I asked, eyeing his clean bandage.
"Like a million bucks," He grinned, "Thank God for modern medicine." I didn't want to burst his bubble, but I knew that soon enough, meds will be rare to come across. But that's a different conversation for a different time. I didn't want to be a downer.
"So, I need the two of you to help me with something," I began, "Well, only if you're up to it, T, but Glenn, you have to help me no matter what," I smirked as I glanced at Glenn. "I need you to help me gather rocks and make a memorial for Otis."
"I'm in." T smiled at me. Glenn nodded as Maggie, a blonde girl, and a guy emerged from the house.
"June, this is my sister Beth and Jimmy." Maggie introduced. I smiled at them and said hello before following as Maggie led us over to a pile of rocks a few feet from the house. Jimmy disappeared and reappeared with a wheelbarrow, picking up a rock and placing it inside the wheelbarrow. I followed, picking up as many rocks as possible and placing them in the metal contraption with wheels. We worked silently, the rocks growing in size and weight as more and more were placed inside. After what seemed to be an eternity, I had built up a sweat and shrugged my flannel off, tying it around my waist. As we continued working, I could hear a small gasp escape one of the women and turned, squinting at them as I lugged a rock into the wheelbarrow. Beth stood, gobsmacked, with her eyes glued to me.
"What?" I questioned, genuinely confused as to why she was staring at me like that. I could see her swallow thickly as she diverted her gaze, her cheeks burning.
"It's just –" She stopped herself, "Why did you get that?" She asked, pointing to her back. I scrunched my brow until it hit me. She was talking about my tattoo. Had she never seen one before? Or was she one of those that just didn't like them?
"My artist wanted to do a big piece. I saw the art, loved it, and volunteered." I shrugged. It's not like it's a big deal.
"It's massive," She said, squatting to grab another rock, "and dark." I chuckled and refrained from rolling my eyes. They don't call it black and gray for nothing.
"Art is subjective, and that's what tattoos are; art. I've always been into the dark and creepy, so this is tame compared to the stuff I wanted to get before the world went to shit. I also have a huge colorful, topless mermaid that covers my entire leg." I smiled, "You don't have to like them; I didn't get them for other people. I got them for me 'cause I loved them."
"Daddy would never let me get one," Beth grinned at me, "He'd kill me if I ever did." Even though it was too late to go to a studio to get one done, stick and poke was still a thing. Maybe we'll find a former tattoo artist along the line, and I'll bring Beth to the dark side with me.
"What your dad doesn't know won't hurt him," I winked at her, grabbing another heavy rock. We laughed together, but it was drowned out by the distant sound of a motorcycle. I dropped my rock and straightened my back, a massive smile spreading across my lips.
"T, go tell Rick and Lori that they're here," I ordered as I started toward the dirt road, anxious to see my friend, the redneck. T-Dog ran toward the house and quickly disappeared inside as the group turned into the property. I anxiously waited for them near the porch, hearing the door creak as Rick, Lori, and T-Dog stepped out to greet them. Daryl pulled up to the house, turned the engine off, and stepped away from his bike, his eyes darting around before landing on me. The gaze was enough to tell me he missed me as much as I missed him. Without warning, I ran forward, slamming into him and wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Missed you, Dixon," I whispered, my arms tightening around him.
"Can't say the same," Daryl said, but I could tell there was a smile on his face. In typical Daryl fashion, he pushed me away and scanned me over as if ensuring I was unharmed. Soon enough, he diverted his eyes onto Rick, who looked utterly exhausted. Dale stepped forward, his signature fishing hat on his head and an ugly blue Hawaiian shirt on his back.
"How is he?" Dale asked Rick.
"He'll pull through," Lori smiled, "Thanks to Hershel and his people."
"And Shane." Rick croaked, "We'd have lost Carl if not for him." Dale stepped up and hugged Rick; Andrea and Carol ran towards Lori to hug her.
"How'd it happen?" Dale asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
"Hunting accident," Rick explained, "That's all—just a stupid accident." I smiled at Andrea and Carol, not bothering to embrace them as I didn't miss them, and walked back to where we were working. Jimmy came up next to me, pulled the wheelbarrow up, and walked over to the tree where we would hold the memorial. Hershel, Patricia, Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy started working on the rock pile—I didn't see it fit for us to work on it personally. This was for them, not for us. We didn't know Otis; they did. The group huddled around as Beth placed the last rock and stepped back as Hershel started reciting verses from the bible. I looked down, and even though I didn't know the man, I paid my respect to their dead friend.
"Shane?" I snapped back to reality and looked up, seeing Hershel firmly holding his bible, "Will you speak for Otis?"
"I'm not good at it," Shane muttered as he looked at the mourning Patricia. "I'm sorry."
"You were the last one with him." Patricia cried, "You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning." Shane looked at her, shifting uncomfortably on his ankle before nodding.
"We were about done, almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad; ankle all swollen up. 'We've got to save the boy.' See, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack. He shoved me ahead. 'Run,' he said. He said, 'I'll take the rear; I'll cover you.' And when I looked back..." Shane stopped, gazing once at Patricia before stepping up and grabbing a rock. "If not for Otis, I'd have never made it out alive. That goes for Carl too. It was Otis. He saved us both. If death ever had meaning, it was his." I stared at him; something about his story seemed... off. There wasn't a genuine bone in his body as he gave his story.
It became awkward after a few seconds, and I was the first to walk away. Plus, it only felt right to give the people that knew and loved Otis the time to remember him. I walked over to the Suburban and jumped up, my butt hitting the hood hard as I waited for some group members to come. Daryl reached me first, his crossbow across his back as he leaned forward on the Chevy, picking at his dirty nails. I watched as Rick stayed behind, talking to Hershel. Hershel and Rick started walking over, engulfed in their conversation as they reached us. I hopped off the hood and leaned forward, like Daryl, noticing that Shane and Andrea were also approaching. Hershel stopped in front of the Chevy and rested one hand on it, looking around at the five of us.
"How long has this little girl been lost?" Hershel asked.
"This is day three," I told Hershel.
"County survey map," Maggie said as she laid the map out in front of us. I scanned the map and smiled, seeing the different terrains and elevations. "Shows terrain and elevations," Maggie explained to those that didn't know.
"This is perfect. We can finally get organized." I smiled, looking at Daryl, knowing it'll mainly be the two of us out searching.
"We'll grid the area." Rick said, "Start searching in teams. "
"Not you. Not today. You gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out." Hershel ordered before glancing at Shane, "And your ankle. Keep pushing it, and you'd be laid out for months. No good to anybody."
"Guess it's just Daryl and me today." I nodded, studying the map. "How about we head back to the creek and work our way up from there?"
"Sounds good," Daryl muttered from next to me, eyeing the map.
"I can still be useful." Shane said abruptly, "I'll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back."
"Sounds good, Shane," I said, turning my attention to him and trying my best to smile. He looked at me and turned away, a scowl on his face. What is up with him? Did I piss in his Cheerios or what?
"Alright, tomorrow then." Rick cleared his throat and adjusted the hat on his head, "We'll start doing things right."
"While I think we need knives, we also need guns." I said, looking at Rick, "We need the weapons and gun training you and Shane promised them."
"I feel much safer with a gun than a pointy stick, thank you," Andrea muttered. Ah, I see the prissy attitude is back – along with her distaste for 'pointy sticks.' I can't even begin to count the number of times my knife has gotten me out of hot water.
"What about when you run out of ammo?" I asked her, "That gun is useless, and from what I saw in the woods yesterday? You can't take one down with a knife." Andrea glared at me, her lips tugging down in a frown as she realized I was right. Boom! Check and mate!
"I'd prefer you not carrying guns on my property." Hershel explained, "We've managed so far without turning this into an armed camp."
"With all due respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering in here, that's it." Shane scoffed.
"Look, we're guests here. This is your property, and we will respect that." Rick ordered, glancing at Shane before laying his gun on the car. I saw Shane angrily follow suit, laying his gun down too. Geez, so Shane has been pissy with everyone, not just me.
"First things first: Set up camp, find Sophia," I said, glancing around the small group.
"I hate to be the one to ask, but someone's got to; What happens if someone finds her and she's bit?" Shane asked. It was a good question. "I think we should all be clear on how we handle that."
"Then we do what has to be done," I muttered, eyeing the burly man to my right.
"And her mother? What do you tell her?" Maggie asked, almost bewildered.
"The truth," Andrea muttered, shrugging her shoulders.
"I'll gather and secure all the weapons. Make sure no one's carrying till we're in a practice range off-site. I do request one rifleman on the lookout. Dale's got experience." Shane asked.
"Our people would feel safer. Feel less inclined to carry a gun." Rick explained. Hershel looked down in thought before slowly nodding, agreeing to have one person carry. I looked at Daryl and raised my eyebrows, wondering if we should get going now.
"June and I will get going in about thirty minutes." He announced, looking at me, "Get your shit together, and we'll meet back here." I smiled at him and walked towards the house. I left my pack on the porch last night. I sorted out my things, gave my hair a good brushing-- working through the knots and tied it up in a ponytail. I spotted Lori and ran up to her, smiling.
"Carl?" was all I had to say before she smiled at me and grabbed my hand.
"He's in and out, but he's just fine." She sighed happily, and tears pricked her eyes. "Thank you, June. For the blood, for offering to go out and find Shane; just for everything." I placed my hand on top of hers and nodded my head, happy that whatever dislike she had for me the first few days was gone. I still don't know what I did wrong, but I'm glad I seemed to have made up for it. She let go of my hand and disappeared into the house to check on her boy. I leaned down, grabbed my pack, gun, and hunting knife, and secured them in my holster. I left my machete in the Chevy, so I'll get that before we go. I walked to where Glenn, Carol, and Dale were setting up for camp and smiled at them, asking them if there were any spare water bottles. Glenn handed me his and nodded, telling me to be careful. I quickly returned to the house and filled my water bottle with tap water before shoving it into my bag.
"You and Daryl going to be okay out there?" Rick asked me, startling me. I zipped up my bag and sighed heavily, brushing away a few stray hair strands from my face.
"Yeah." I muttered, "We got each other's backs and know the woods fairly well."
"Just be safe out there." He said, reaching to clasp my shoulder, "Be back before dark."
"Of course," I muttered, walking away from him and racing down the porch steps. I leaned against the Chevy, waiting for Daryl, when I remembered my machete! Opening the door, I leaned over and grabbed the handle before hearing footsteps approaching. Daryl approached me, his crossbow firmly across his back and a water bottle in his hand. I grabbed the bottle from him and shoved it in my pack before turning and walking towards the woods.
We walked silently, our eyes peeled and our ears straining to catch any sounds of Sophia or walkers. We had long since stopped relying on the earth to find Sophia's tracks, knowing there were no tracks to follow. A branch snapped behind us, forcing us to stop and look in that direction. A deer wandered into view, eyeing us, prepared to run off if we made any sudden movements. Daryl lurched forward as if lunging for the animal, forcing it to run away from us without a moment's hesitation.
"Asshole," I muttered under my breath as we continued walking. We continued toward the creek, constantly scanning the wilderness until we stumbled across an abandoned house. The white walls were dirtied with bloody hand prints, and there was a massive blood splatter to the rear. We trekked through the overgrown weeds, my hand tightening around my machete as we neared the house. We stopped at the door, and Daryl put his finger up, telling me to be quiet—as if I already didn't know. He reached for the door when I stuck my hand out to stop him. I had an idea! If the walkers are attracted to noise, why not bang on the door before entering so any walkers can come, and then we'll kill them. I raised my fist and banged loudly on the door, keeping a strained ear out for any noise from the house.
"What you do that for?" Daryl asked, confused.
"I figured if walkers are attracted to noise, why not draw them out before going in there?" I explained, keeping my voice down to a whisper.
"Smart," Daryl muttered as he reached for the handle and opened the door. Yeah, I've been known to have a good idea or two every once in a while.
"You fail to realize that I'm actually pretty smart, Dixon," I whispered to him with a wide grin. He rolled his eyes and reached for the door, opening it loudly to draw any potential walkers out. We slowly crept forward, both of us on high alert as we split up. I slowly entered the dusty kitchen, deciding to scavenge through the cabinets for anything we could use. We might as well since we're already here. After a few cans of food and a bunch of dust later, I jumped at the sound of the floorboards creaking. Daryl stood behind and pointed to a door that was left ajar. I hunched over, keeping low, and slowly approached the door, using my machete to pry it open. Inside were a few pillows and a blanket, the inside small enough for someone like Sophia.
"She was in here," I whispered to Daryl. He nodded at me, and we slowly walked out the back door, keeping our eyes trained on the ground in case there were any tracks.
"Sophia!" Daryl shouted as we reached the treeline. No sounds.
"If she was here, she isn't anymore," I muttered, scanning the trees in case a walker tried to jump out at us. "Let's take a few minutes to break, and then we can start following the creek." I approached a giant oak tree, leaned against it, and took out a water bottle. I watched Daryl examine a white flower, plucking it before walking over to me. He turned me over roughly as he gently placed the flower in my pack before extending his hand, requesting the water in my hands. I took a sip and handed him the water bottle, looking at the sky. We still had a while before the sun set.
"Let's get going," Daryl muttered as he handed me back the water. I nodded and hastily put the water back in my pack, grabbing my knife and trailing behind Daryl. How far could this little girl have gone? We're at least a good mile away from the creek and another five away from the highway. Could she really have made it this far? Daryl turned to me and pointed ahead, making me snap out of my daze and see the creek before us. I smiled and walked forward, squatting to dip my hands in. The cold water felt refreshing against my hot skin, instantly providing relief from the Georgia heat. Daryl squatted next to me and copied my movements, dipping his hands in and sighing as the cold water hit his skin. We sat there briefly before following the creek for another mile and a half. The entire way, we kept quiet, trying to avoid detection by any walkers that could've been in the area. One thing was certain... Sophia didn't come this way. The house is the only indication that she is alive.
"We should start heading back, Dixon." I murmured, "Going to be dark in a few hours." Daryl stopped and turned on his heel, walking the other way back towards the farm and keeping an eye on the ground below us. He's looking for a trail, but he won't find one. We didn't see one at the house, and I doubt we'll see one now. I heard the leaves crunch a few feet next to me and slowly walked toward the disturbance, hearing growls. I raised my machete and kept walking, my eyes landing on a walker. I whistled at it and sighed with relief when I saw it wasn't Sophia. Without any further hesitation, I swung my machete, cutting deep into the center of the walker's head. Daryl came up behind me and tapped me, an impressed look crossing his features. What? Haven't I proven that I could take down a walker before? I kicked the walker off my machete and continued following the creek. My eyes started to grow heavy, and my legs became jelly as my lack of sleep started to present itself.
"You said you had a sister?" Daryl asked suddenly, startling me. Where is this coming from? Either way, I nodded and frowned. I didn't want to talk about them, but I knew that the longer I didn't talk about them, the deeper the wound from their deaths would be.
"Yeah, Summer." I practically whispered.
"You're parents' hippies or something?" Daryl chuckled, "June and Summer?"
"Nah," I smiled, thinking back to my mom and dad, "They wanted to keep a common theme since they named me June." While most people probably thought it was stupid, I thought it was funny.
"Younger or older?"
"Younger." I looked at Daryl and smiled at him, feeling a combination of sadness and happiness fill me as I reminisced. "I'm four years older than her. Was."
"What happened to them?" Daryl asked, turning away from me to search our surroundings. Do I want to talk about this? No. But I knew I had to get past this sooner rather than later.
"Dad got bit, Mom committed suicide, and my sister was eaten," I explained, not wanting to get into the details.
"How'd it happen? You two just got overwhelmed, and she got caught, or?"
"We were driving to Atlanta, but it was so dark." I started, feeling tears fight their way from my tear ducts, "She wanted to drive, take first shift while I rested up. The next thing I know, I'm upside down and sore all over. The sound of the crash attracted walkers nearby, and before I knew it, I was running away, and my sister was crying for me while the walkers tore her apart." Daryl kept quiet, his eyes glued to the ground as he thought about what to say next. There is nothing I will ever regret more than leaving my sister behind. I panicked and ran – I'm not proud of it, but that's what I did. No one can hate me more than I hate myself for abandoning her.
"Damn." He muttered, "You didn't try helping her?"
"She was stuck. Her leg was crushed—broken." I explained, feeling tears in my eyes, "I couldn't get her out without dying myself. The walkers came at us like a swarm, more than we saw at camp that night. I had no choice but to leave her, or else I would've been killed." I paused, trying my best to stop the tears. I cleared my throat, swallowing the frog that had formed, and begged to leap out. "I regret it every single day." I choked out, "I should've died that night with my sister, but instead, I ran and left her for dead." Daryl took a hesitant step towards me, his rough, calloused hand forcing me into him as he willingly embraced me. He pushed my head into his shoulder as I tried to keep my walls up.
"That's how it is these days." Daryl gruffly muttered, "If it weren't her, it woulda been you. Can't beat yourself up anymore." I nodded into his shoulder, knowing that he was right about beating myself up, but I don't think I would ever be able to forget what I did to my sister; Or what I didn't do. "Let's keep walkin' gonna be dark soon." I pulled away from him and cleared my throat. I gripped my machete tight and followed Daryl as he took the lead, trying to regain my composure. When I finally composed myself, we were already walking into the clearing that separated the farm and woods. I walked slower than usual, not really in the mood to socialize. Daryl turned back to me as he led us into the small camp we had settled, his pale blue eyes landing on me to ensure I was okay before he disappeared into the RV.
I heaved and walked up the house, sitting down on the porch steps and hunching over to rest my head on my knees. No Sophia... which means another night of Carol's crying. At this rate, I couldn't help but think that we were chasing after a ghost. Three nights on her own? No weapons, no food, no water? Most of these people can't even do that, so why would a child be able to? It's more likely that she's dead, and we'll be lucky if we find her body rather than her alive. The screen door opened, squeaking as someone pushed it open. The porch's wood groaned slightly as the person sat next to me. I couldn't be bothered to look up; exhaustion was finally taking a toll on me. I want to sleep.
"Any luck?" I let out a small sigh as I processed Rick's words, my mind wandering to the deepest corners again.
"No." I groaned, sitting up to look at the man next to me. "We found a house where she might have stayed for a bit, but it's empty now. Maybe he and I can go back out there tomorrow, further our search by a couple more miles." Rick stayed quiet, looking at me and scrunching his brows together as he shook his head.
"You look exhausted." He muttered, brushing away a strand of hair that fell in front of my face. I nodded at him and gave him a crooked smile, sleep knocking on my consciousness door and demanding that it opens up.
"I am." I said, grabbing my gun from my holster and handing it to Rick, "Here. So I won't get in trouble for walking around with it."
"You wouldn't get in much trouble," Rick chuckled. "Seriously, June. Get some sleep. You look half dead." I nodded and slowly stood up, groaning as I fought the urge to pass out where I sat.
"Tell Carl goodnight for me, okay?" I told Rick, feeling horrible that I hadn't visited the boy today, "I've had a very long day, and I'll see him tomorrow."
"He was asking for you earlier," Rick said. Great. Another thing to feel guilty about., "Was disappointed when I told him you weren't in camp. He'll be happy to hear that you were at least thinking of him and that you'll see him tomorrow." He stood and eyed me carefully, slowly looking me up and down and frowning. "Get some rest, June. I'll see you in the morning."
"Night, Rick." I smiled at him weakly as I walked away, hoping Daryl had already set up the tent. I heard Rick mutter back a faint night at me as I made my way to the furthest part of the farm. If I knew Daryl, I knew he would want to be as far away from the camp as possible. There he was, at least a quarter-mile from the camp, sitting outside, playing with his knife. I smiled at him and ruffled his hair, happy that he was so predictable. Well, at least to me, he was.
"You look like shit." Daryl spat, clearly annoyed that I was touching him.
"Thanks." I chuckled, setting my pack outside the tent and squatting to untie my boots. "I'm exhausted, didn't get any sleep last night."
"I already set up the sleeping bag for you. Figured you'd be tired." He muttered as he stabbed the earth. See, this is why I loved Daryl. He acted all tough and hard, but he was really a big softie.
"Thanks, Dixon." I smiled before opening the tent and immediately throwing myself onto one of the sleeping bags. I don't know what tomorrow has in store, but something tells me it will be a good day. I let out a final sigh as I shut my eyes, the comfort of sleep barging through the door and completely engulfing me in its sweet, loving embrace.