Arrowhead ➳ Daryl Dixon

t w o

The group stared at Daryl in complete disbelief as he informed them about his encounter with Presley. They looked between eachother, mumbling softly of the dangers that this girl could cause.

"I think that's the last we'll see of 'er." Daryl admitted. He picked at the dirt underneath his nails.

"Still, it isn't safe to have her walking around attacking people like that." Rick said, still shaking his head in disbelief. "We're safe inside the prison, but what if we need to go on another run? We're 'bout screwed with her running around laying out our men."

"She caught me by surprise." Daryl mumbled defensively. It was true. He had seen the arrow, and the next minute, he was having some force plowing into him. Though the girl had been light, it had caught him by surprise and he wasn't expecting a real life human. Walkers at least emitted some sort of sound or stepped on a stick, she had been completely silent.

"We'll worry about it in the morning." Hershal said, limping forward to the rest of the group. "We all need a good nights sleep- tomorrow we need to tear up the ground and plant some crops. Daryl's deer will make a nice stew tomorrow."

The group hesitantly shuffled away, each person moving into their own cell blocks. Daryl grumbled as he moved up the stairs into a small room that served as his bedroom. He wasn't about to sleep in one of those places like some sort of criminal. So, he had dragged a few mattresses up there and put a few shelves on the walls. The room lacked a professional decor, but it was still nice enough for him. It was private- even having a lock on the door knob.

He sat down on the mattresses, pulling out a slender object. The girl had left too quickly to retrieve her arrow from the deer. It was long and slender, sleek black with bright feathers at the end. Expensive looking, almost sentimental looking as well.

"Girl, ye better not cause problems."

- - -

"Zeva." Presley chirped as she approached the Jeep. A small black head poked over the edge of the passengers side. At the sight of her owner, Zeva's ears perked up and her tongue fell from her mouth. She tossed her head as if she were barking, but the dog knew better than to emit sound.

"Hey girl." Presley cooed as she scratched the dog behind the ears. She moved back to her old campfire, a thin stream of smoke still rising upward. She had plans to only stay here for a few more days before moving on. She would have left today, but she needed to make a supply run. While she didn't mind surviving on meat alone, there wasn't exactly enough seasoning to make the meat all that satisfying. Nevermind a can of beans or peaches would be nice every now and then. Therefore, she would make a run into town tomorrow and camp out here for another night, and then leave the following morning.

Hopefully that man wouldn't cause any trouble.

The two remained silent as Presley prepared the stew, using only as little water as possible to ensure that it wasn't too watery. The process didn't take that long, just a few hours later and they were eating until their bellies were full. The stew was fairly good. Herbs added some flavor, and the roots were fulfilling. While it was no resturant dish, it did it's job at filling her belly. Zeva licked up her share in the matter of a few minutes, but Presley savored the taste.

Once she finished, she took a swig of water and poured a bit in Zeva's bowl. The two savored the crackling light of the small fire in silence, the black dog leaning against her owner's leg as she scratched her behind the ear. It was nights like these that she forgot everything, that she actually felt safe. Those moments were short lived, but she cherished them none the less..

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