The group had been on the road for weeks now. Things had changed and were constantly, continuously changing. One thing was that Rick was in charge. Rick said jump and they asked how high. Rosie wasn't too fond of this situation at first.
First of all, she hated the close quarters they were in. She had to constantly be in the sight of at least one of the adults, which drove her crazy. For the first couple of weeks, she'd often get caught trying to sneak into the woods to go out on a walk by herself, but it never worked. Someone always saw her and dragged her back to the group- Daryl more often than not.
Another thing that caused discomfort was that food was scarce. Very scarce. They had been searching houses and buildings for any type of food- whether it be expired or not. There had even been times where they had to eat cans of dog food.
Rosie's crayons dulled down and some of them had broken, and she lost the green one, which totally sucked because green was her favorite color.
The weather got even worse. They spent their nights in whatever type of shelter they could find, trying to warm themselves up so they didn't lose all their fingers and toes to frostbite. Rosie ended up taking the rolled up socks out of the toes of her boots and layering them on top of the socks she already wore. It made it a little harder to run, but it was better than not being able to feel her toes.
Daryl had found Rosie a jacket in the closet of some boy's bedroom. It was a dark green color, which Rosie liked, but it was a little too big. The sleeves went down past her hands, but that wasn't any problem. It kept her hands warmer.
Daryl also found an ankylosaurus toy in the boy's bedroom and gave it to Rosie. He, of course, didn't know it was an ankylosaurus at first, but once he put the toy in Rosie's hands, she told him all about ankylosauruses.
"Ankylosauruses lived at the end of the Cretaceous Period, which was 66 million years ago. They had clubs on their tails and armor-type stuff on their backs. They were herbivores. Adult ones were around 18,000 pounds. They were kinda like armadillos, but huge," Rosie had told him, not taking her eyes off of the toy in her hands. Daryl nodded, even though he was not really taking in any of the information she was giving. He was just happy that she'd actually smiled about something, even if she did twist up her lips to hide the fact that she was smiling in the first place.
For the first few days on the road, Rosie hadn't said anything at all. Any question anyone asked her was responded to with a shrug, a nod, or a simple shake of the head. Daryl worried that her silence would last, but he was able to coax her out of it only a few days later. She wasn't at all talkative- only speaking if spoken to- but it was better than nothing.
The main question everyone had was: why? She didn't care as much about Shane, Patricia, or Jimmy as other members of the group might have, and she barely knew Randall at all, so could it really be their deaths that was making her so quiet?
What they didn't know was that it wasn't particularly unusual for the girl to go quiet around the winter holidays. She had her reasons, but opted out of sharing them. They just brushed it off as her being different. Whatever that meant.
The place they were holed up in now was a shitty old gas station off the side of the road. It was a great find, even though most of the stuff inside was already gone. Inside, there were still a few different foods and drinks other people had left behind. Rosie was ecstatic when she found a bottle of purple Gatorade in one of the fridges, while Carl was much more excited about the two-liter of root beer he found.
Rosie was tucked into the corner, slowly taking sips of her Gatorade in order to preserve it, while Carl sat next to her, pouring cups of root beer into red solo cups he found. He was telling her about some crazy birthday party he went to where he got to mix a ton of different sodas together and drink it.
"It tasted so bad," Carl was saying, a small smile on his face as he thought of the memory. "I wish you would have been there."
I wish you would have been there. That was something Carl had been saying a lot lately, whenever he'd think of old stories about his old life to tell Rosie. She couldn't tell if he actually meant it, or if it was just another thing people said.
The relationship between the two kids had grown closer ever since they left the farm. At first, Rosie was avoiding Carl, not wanting to talk to him about Shane, but then they ended up having a short conversation about it. Surprisingly, Carl only asked a few questions, and then he was done with the topic. He hadn't brought it up since.
"What was the funnest thing you ever did at a birthday party?" Carl asked her, sliding one of the red solo cups over to her on the floor before filling his own.
"I don't think I ever went ta one," Rosie said, shrugging her shoulders. "Coach Smith got me a cupcake on my birthday, though. And my..." she trailed off, not wanting to think about Fraser. She pressed her lips together, her expression dropping slightly.
"Oh, well my birthday's on June 27th, 1998. Maybe we can have a small party then. If we can find balloons or something," Carl said. He lifted his cup and drank the root beer, savoring the sweet taste of the liquid on his tongue, before refilling the cup. "When's your birthday?"
"April 10th, 2001," Rosie replied before taking another sip of her Gatorade.
"So you're gonna turn ten," Carl said. Rosie nodded, wiping her lips clean of Gatorade with the sleeve of her green jacket. "I'm gonna turn thirteen next. I don't know what day it is, though." Carl got up and brought the two liter over to where his parents were, offering them some of the drink.
While Carl was gone, Rosie capped her Gatorade and put it in her backpack, not wanting to drink all of it in one day. Leaving her bag on the ground, she got up and left the gas station without a word. She headed towards the woods, but was soon stopped.
"Rose," Daryl's voice called out from behind her, sounding annoyed. "Where the hell ya think yer goin'?" he asked her, walking quickly to catch up to her.
"Over there," Rosie said, pointing to the tree line.
Daryl rolled his eyes. She never seemed to understand the point of questions, always giving an answer that was obvious. "Why?" he asked.
"Gotta go pee," Rosie said, shrugging her shoulders.
"Get Maggie or somethin'. Can't be goin' out there by yourself," Daryl said. He put his hand on her back, leading her back towards the gas station.
This was another thing that had changed ever since they left the farm. Daryl, for whatever reason, started paying close attention to Rosie, and it was confusing her. He suddenly cared whether or not she ate whatever food was found, whether or not she was warm enough, and whether or not she had someone with her wherever she went.
He was also just generally nicer than he used to be. He always offered to help Lori with whatever she might need help with, considering she was pregnant and all. He always shared whatever he found hunting with the rest of the group. And he often brought Rosie little things he found that he thought she might like- like the ankylosaurus.
As the two went back to the gas station, Daryl tapped Rosie on the arm with something. She looked up at him and he nodded towards his hand. In it was a pack of crayons. "Found 'em in the back," he said, holding out the crayons for her to grab.
Rosie found herself smiling a little, but quickly hid the smile away. "Thanks," she said, stuffing the box of crayons into the large pocket of her jacket.
Before Rosie could open the door, Daryl tapped her on the arm again. "Doin' ok?" he asked, pinching his eyebrows together slightly.
Rosie didn't say anything for a moment, thinking about it. She could tell Daryl about Fraser. About when he died. About how he died. About him.
But she also couldn't. At least, she couldn't do it without crying. So she decided she wouldn't.
So Rosie nodded and opened the door, going inside in search of Maggie. Daryl stood at the door for a moment, watching the girl walk away. He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling frustrated. Something was wrong. Everyone else may have been brushing it off as her being different, but it just didn't sit right with him.
Seeing her nod and walk off like it didn't matter, he cursed himself, telling himself that it really didn't matter, she'd get over it. Either way, it didn't matter to him. She was just some kid who was living in the apocalypse, of course she'd act weird. No one cared, especially not Daryl. At least, that's what he told himself.
Daryl went inside and sat himself down on top of the checkout counter, looking behind it to see if there were any packs of cigarettes left. There was one. It was halfway empty. He shoved it in his pocket.
"Daryl," Carl's young voice said, lifting himself up onto the counter next to Daryl. "I think something's wrong with Rosie."
"It's like your ma said," Daryl grumbled, "she's jus' different." Carl scoffed and rolled his eyes before sliding off the counter. Daryl furrowed his eyebrows watching him start to walk away. "The hell's wrong?" he asked.
Carl turned back around quickly, giving Daryl a mean glare. "You all say that. And saying it doesn't help her at all, it only makes you feel better about it," Carl said before going back off into the corner he had sat next to Rosie in earlier.
•
When Rosie returned from the woods with Maggie, she was stopped by the door by Daryl holding his arm out in front of her to block her. "Go grab yer slingshot," he said.
Rosie looked at him, confused for a moment, but went and got her slingshot from her backpack anyway. They still hadn't been able to find a silencer for her gun, so her slingshot and knife were the only weapons she'd really been using. When she was at the farm, she hadn't even used the slingshot once, but now she was using it every day.
Killing walkers with a slingshot wasn't always the easiest way to take them down, but a sharp rock did the trick when it had to. Still, she didn't understand why Daryl wanted her and wanted for her to bring her weapons. If he was going somewhere, she was probably some of the worst backup to have.
Whether or not she understood why, she returned to Daryl moments later, her slingshot in her right hand and her knife in the sheath on her belt. Daryl held the door open and Rosie stepped through, glancing up at him as she did so, hoping it would somehow give her some sort of explanation. It didn't.
Once they were both out the door, Daryl took the lead, walking towards the forest with Rosie trailing slightly behind him.
"Um," Rosie said as she stepped over a log, "where're we goin'?"
"Huntin'," Daryl replied, as if it were obvious. Rosie furrowed her eyebrows with confusion. She hadn't been hunting since before her dad died. Even if she had asked to go with, Daryl always said no. So why was he taking her now, especially if she didn't even ask?
"Why?"
"We need food," Daryl replied simply.
"But why are ya takin' me?" Rosie asked.
"Ya wanna go, don't ya?" Daryl asked her.
"Yeah, but you always-"
"Changed my mind," Daryl responded. "Now be quiet. We're not gonna find anythin' if ya talk the whole time."
So, Rosie shut her mouth and kept it shut, despite the questions running through her mind. She kept her ears on high alert, hoping to hear a squirrel or a rabbit skittering across the dirt and leaves. Each step she took was a careful one, making sure she didn't step on a twig or trip in her oversized cowboy boots.
The two hunters went on like that for a while, walking through the woods silently. Rosie's head twitched to the right at the small sound of a leave crunching, and her eyes landed on a small rabbit sniffing around a bush.
Daryl, of course, heard it too, but didn't make any move to kill it, wanting to let Rosie have a chance at the thing. He watched as Rosie pulled a rock out of the pocket of her jacket and loaded it into her slingshot. He'd seen her do the same thing a few times back at the Atlanta camp. Only a few times had he gone hunting with David and Rosie, but it was enough times for him to know that Rosie knew what she was doing.
Rosie pulled the rock back in her slingshot and let the rock fly. It hit the rabbit square on the head, making it drop to the ground. Rosie hurried over to it, sticking her knife into its head, just to make sure the job was really done. It used to be the part that she dreaded doing, but it seemed like nothing now, after everything she'd seen and done.
Once the job was done, Rosie picked up the rabbit by its back legs and held it out in front of Daryl, as if it were a tomato at the grocery store that he had to confirm was good enough before putting it in the cart. Daryl took the rabbit from her hand and they continued on.
"When'd ya get that slingshot?" Daryl asked her as they walked.
"I thought we had ta be quiet," Rosie replied, still trying to listen for the sound of food.
"Already caught somethin'," Daryl said.
"One rabbit ain't gonna be enough for everyone."
"There's food at the gas station," Daryl told her. He glanced over at her and she furrowed her eyebrows.
"You said the whole point of us comin' out here was 'cause we need food," Rosie said, looking up at him.
"I wanted to talk to ya," Daryl admitted. He glanced down at Rosie to see what her reaction would be, but her face never faltered, keeping her eyebrows furrowed and her lips sealed. "'bout why you're actin' all weird."
"I'm not actin' weird," Rosie growled out, her teeth clenched together.
"You are. And it doesn't matter. Act however ya wanna act, I don't give a shit. Just know that whatever's makin' ya act like that, ya don't gotta keep it a secret. Ya don't have to tell no one 'less ya wanna, but no one's gonna judge ya for whatever it is, if that's what you're scared a' happenin'."
"I ain't scared of nothin'," Rosie claimed. Daryl just scoffed. "Jus' don't like talkin'." about it. I just don't like talking about it.
"Then don't talk about it," Daryl said, seemingly reading Rosie's thoughts. "But it might make ya feel better."
The two walked silently for two more minutes, Daryl leading Rosie back to the gas station.
"My brother died in the winter time. I keep thinkin' about it," Rosie said, her quiet and uneasy voice shattering the silence.
Daryl looked down at her, not failing to notice her quick movement to rub the sleeve of her jacket across her eyes. He didn't want her to cry. He had no idea what the hell to do if she started really crying. It took him a few moments to try and decide what to do, how to respond to the girl's confession.
First, he placed his free hand on her shoulder- something he hoped would be some sort of comfort, but wasn't sure about it. "My mom died in the summer time when I was a kid. Thought about it every summer. Still do," he told Rosie. She looked up at him with slightly glazed over, questioning eyes. "I know what yer talkin' about, I mean," he said, "but shuttin' yerself away ain't gonna bring your brother back."
"I know," Rosie said, sighing.
"Then stop doin' it. People don't like seein' ya all sad," Daryl said. They left the tree line and made the short walk to the front of the gas station. Before Rosie could go back inside, Daryl stopped her again. "Why don't ya go tell Carl 'bout that dinosaur you were tellin' me about," he suggested.
Why? Rosie almost asked. Of course, she was happy to talk about dinosaurs all day long. She just didn't get why Daryl was telling her to tell Carl about them. But she didn't ask because she just wanted to talk about the ankylosaurus, so that's what she did.