Daryl squinted at the set of deer tracks that lead him further away from the prison in the quickly fading light of the day. He'd been tracking this deer for several hours and he knew he was getting closer and wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste because this was the first deer he'd caught sight of in weeks.

He continued to follow the fresh tracks for several more yards before a faint sound reached his ears. It was a soft, haunting sound and it didn't take him long to realize it was someone singing. He stopped and strained his hearing to make out the direction it was coming from. Once he locked onto the sound he realized it was coming from the direction the tracks were going and he kept low against the dense foliage as he stealthily approached the sound.

The closer he got the more chilled he became by the eerie voice of a woman singing. He couldn't see her as there was a drop off where a river had cut out the ground over time but he did notice that the fresh tracks he had been following lead over the side. His prey must have needed some water.

He got low on his stomach as he approached the edge of the drop off, listening to the woman's beautiful voice. He was suddenly reminded of a story he'd once heard about sirens and how they would sing out to men and draw them to their deaths in the water. He shook his head as he listened to the lyrics he could make out and realized she was singing about death and how it had come for her, asking him to spare her another year. Her voice combined with the lyrics were giving him goosebumps.

He also thought she was a stupid bitch. Was she trying to attract every walker within a five mile radius? When he peered over the edge of the dropoff she seemed to be doing just that.

A figure dressed in black and blue pulled back the string of an expensive recurve bow, notched with an arrow, and two horses, a saddled grey and white horse and a chestnut colored horse that was completely bare, standing rock steady behind her. She wore a blue and white plaid long sleeve shirt with a chocolate colored braid swaying down her back all way to her hips, faded, form fitting jeans, and brown cowboy boots with a machete strapped to her leg, and a quiver full of arrows at her back. She stood on the embankment across the river from him as Walkers stumbled down the drop off.

She had her back to him as she continued to repeat the song, pausing to hold her breath and release an arrow, and he watched in appreciation as she dispatch one walker after another as her two horses stood vigil. No matter how stupid she was being, she was certainly good with that bow. Once she ran out of arrows, she quit singing and dropped the bow, reaching for her machete and he cocked an eyebrow as she dispatched the last six zombies with a little more difficulty but with no wasted movements, almost like Michonne but with less finesse. This woman was dangerous.

As the last walker fell she quickly started pulling her arrows from the twice dead bodies, wiping them clean on the clothes of the dead. It took her several moments to collect them, Daryl noticed there had to be at least two dozen of them. It was then that he realized the enormity of what he just witnessed. This woman had just taken down a herd of walkers. He tried to count the dead bodies littering the embankment for an exact count but lost it after twenty six.

When she had collected the last of her arrows she turned, grabbing her bow as she passed it, and mounted the grey horse that had been following her with a graceful leap. She held her bow in her left hand, her right hand resting on her thigh, and with a nudge of her knee the horse started upstream and the brown one followed closely behind.

He laid still, trying to decide what to do, processing what he'd just seen. They could really use someone like her but there was no way that he could bring someone that dangerous back to camp out of the blue like that without consulting the others even if they were in discussions of starting to bring outsiders in.

His mind made up, he laid quietly and watched her ride away further upstream. He'd wait until she was out of sight before he continued on his trek for the deer. Or so he thought. He saw the horse stop suddenly as she pulled out an arrow out, notch, and loose it in one swift moment. It didn't take him long to realize she'd just killed the deer he'd been tracking all day. He growled as he pushed himself from the dirt and saw her dismount and walk over to the now dead deer. He'd be damned if he was going to let her take it from him after all that tracking.

He kept low and back in the cover of the trees as he ran silently through the brush to catch up to her. She was bending over the animal when he jumped down the short drop to the edge of the river, crossbow loaded and aimed steadily at her.

The second his feet hit the ground she spun up reaching for an arrow from her quiver and her horses whip their heads at him. Before she had a chance to pull the arrow free, he shouted a warning to her.

"If that arrow leaves that quiver you'll have one in yer eye faster than ya can say kill stealin' whore," he shouted, venom dripping in his Georgia redneck lilt. "That's mine," he added, turning his chin towards the deer on the ground as he crept towards her through the extremely shallow water.

He saw dark eyes narrow as she sneered at him.

"With my arrow through it's heart," she spat in a southern drawl as he saw her slowly start to reach around her back. He knew she was going for some hidden weapon back there and he started moving towards her, daring her to use it.

"Don't make me kill ya," he yelled as he closed the distance between them, walking through the water that didn't make it up to his calves. The river was quite low.

He hated that she didn't listen because he really didn't want to hurt her but she left him no choice when she suddenly dropped her bow and reached all the way behind her back. He dropped his crossbow on the ground mid sprint as he pulled out his knife, not aiming to kill her if he didn't have to, and tackled her into the soft dirt a few feet away from the water just as she pulled out a gun. The horses pranced angrily close to him as he fell on top of her, a hand around her wrist that had come around with a gun and the other holding the knife pressed to her throat and she froze at it's touch. He straddled her tense body as looked down into her wild amber eyes set in a pale face and features that put her in her early to mid thirties and her long black braid trapped between their bodies. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath him and once they were still he could feel her pulse in her wrist beating like a hummingbird's wings.

He sat above her breathing heavily, trying to figure out what to do next while keeping an ear out for the agitated horses close by. Her eyes never left his as she remained motionless and coiled like a snake to strike, waiting for him to make the next move. When she got tired of waiting, he saw her eyes go from wild to a sly squint and the corner of her mouth turn up into a knowing smirk though her body remained tense, belying the confidence she spoke with. It was like he was looking into the eyes of a fox he'd just chased into a corner.

"Kill stealin' whore," she taunted in a low, challenging voice that moved over Daryl like molasses.

Daryl had to carefully steel his emotions from his face. Damn if that wasn't sexy though, or this whole situation for that matter. He kept his screaming libido under control, it'd been a long time since he'd gotten laid, as he squeeze her wrist, forcing her to open her hand from around the gun. She reluctantly let go but she knew by then that he wouldn't kill her because if he was going to, he would have done it the moment she started reaching for her gun.

It's not like she was extremely desperate for the deer but she had been hoping she could take the hide for warmth and some of the meet for a meal the next few days. In all honesty, there was more deer than she could eat before it rotted and it would be a waste to leave it for the undead to feast on. If he hadn't been so abrasive, she wouldn't have minded sharing. She couldn't blame him though, she'd run into enough men and women in her journey to know people couldn't really be trusted anymore. Which is why he needed to get the hell off her before she lost control over her instincts, which were screaming at her to fight back. His touch was bringing back some repressed memories.

"Shut up," was all he said as he took the gun and tossed it away from her, releasing her wrist.

She thought about calling her horse to stomp his face in for a fraction of a second but the sharp edge of his knife bit into her neck and she changed her mind. She would just let him have the deer and leave.

"Look," she began as he reached to undo the buckle that held on her quiver, "if ya want the damn thang, just take it 'n' we'll be on our way," he let her stop his hand over her chest, her nails biting into his skin, where the buckle was for her quiver, "with my weapons."

He eyed her warily, letting her keep her quiver, as he jerked his hand away from hers and reached down beside her for the machete and slowly pulled it out of the sheath to tossed it away. He then ran his hand roughly down her curvy sides and the waistband of her pants to check for more guns. For someone who had been fending for herself, he could tell she still had most of her curves but she wasn't heavy by any means. She wasn't as skinny as some of the other women at the prison which meant she'd been able to fend well for herself and he could see most of her weight came from muscle.

He felt her shiver beneath him as his hand touched her skin and her eyes went wide and dark before returning to the angry squint. If he hadn't been looking he would have totally missed it and it puzzled him. Was that fear he saw in her eyes?

He grunted, satisfied she was disarmed enough to where she wouldn't hurt him, and pulled out his own revolver from his waistband with his free hand as he removed the knife from her neck. He stood from her slowly, keeping the revolver pointed at her steadily.

"Stand up," he ordered as he stood.

He waited as she sat up, still breathing heavily, and pushed herself to her feet and her arms held out in surrender.

"I really don't want no trouble here, Georgia Peach, but I won't leave here without my weapons," she stated as a fact deciding she was safe enough to get a little dig in on him by calling him a peach.

He narrowed his eyes at her. This woman had balls to make demands when she was disarmed and had a gun pointed at her, much less calling him a peach. He ain't no peach. However, he could tell she was being sincere because she had a couple of opportunities to lash out at him while he was disarming her that she didn't take.

"I cain't turn my back on ya," he concluded as he backed up for his crossbow. He couldn't leave the deer either but he chose to keep his desperate need for it to himself.

"Look, jus' lemme take my machete 'n' we'll walk away fer a bit. Ya can take the deer 'n' we'll come back fer my weapons after yer long gone. I seriously don't want trouble," she promised as she flung her long brown braid over her shoulder.

Daryl considered her proposal for a few moments, never taking his eyes or gun off of her before speaking.

"Ya pick up that knife and you start walkin'. I see you again, yer dead," he threatened, watching her closely.

She nodded and slowly went to her machete and put it back in it's sheath at her thigh. She really didn't want to tangle with this tough bastard and she hated to be separated from her bow for that long but she had a feeling that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. She backed up to the grey horse and took the bitless reins to lead the two animals into the woods.

Daryl watched her until both woman and animal disappeared into the trees and watched the treeline for what seemed like several minutes, making sure she was really gone before turning back to the deer. He pulled the arrow angrily out of the deer carcass to inspect it closely. He gave an appreciative whistle at the quality: custom carbon fiber mechanical broadheads.

"This bitch don't fuck around," he whispered to himself as he tucked the arrow into the only empty spot on his case. He wasn't sure if it would shoot from his crossbow but he would keep it anyway. He didn't want to waste such a great arrow.

He idly wondered which store she must have looted for the arrows as he knelt down with his knife to relieve the fresh kill of it's organs.

It had been a few days since he'd seen the woman by the river and sometimes he caught his thoughts wandering back to her, his imagination running wild as to who she was and where she had come from. He also remembered the fire in her eyes when he'd taken her down and her muscled, yet soft curves beneath him and the way her pulse had raced under her skin. It'd been a long time since he'd last had a woman in his bed and this one had been his type visually and if her wild eyes had been any indication to her personality, his type all around.

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail, his eyes dutifully scanning the treeline in the dark as he stood for his watch on the tower. He didn't feel guilty about his physical feelings toward her but he felt a bit bad that he'd taken the deer meat from her. He wished he could have sent her with some.

He shook his head as his hand went back to his crossbow to continue his watch. He'd become soft ever since he'd lost Meryl the first time and joined this group for the long haul. Before things had gone to hell, he would be thinking about how to get into her pants instead of wanting to help her. Hell changes people and maybe it was changing him for the better.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the hatch to the top of the tower open behind him but he did let out a sigh. He wanted nothing more than to be alone at the moment.

"Hershel says we need more painkillers and antibiotics and we're running a little low on some foodstuffs," Rick informed from behind him.

Daryl tapped his finger on his weapon as he responded.

"I'll take a group out tomorrow," he stated simply. Ever since Rick had taken to farming, Daryl had taken up partial leadership within the group while they established how things were going to be run.

Rick stepped up beside him, also scanning the open space beyond the chain link fences. He leaned heavily on the metal railing as he nodded.

"Sounds good. I'll get the others to get a list together so you can get in and out quickly."

They shared a comfortable silence for several minutes before Rick spoke again, almost as if he'd been reading Daryl's mind.

"So this woman you ran into. You think she's a threat?" He asked a bit nervously. Even though the rest of the group had been talking about bringing in outsiders he was still nervous about the idea, especially since the Governor was still out there on the loose. That and he was starting to lose faith in people. However, since he'd stepped down, he didn't really have much of a say anymore.

Daryl had briefly mentioned running into a woman much like Michonne while out hunting but let her go. The hunter felt it wasn't necessary to kill her because he'd been far enough away from the prison and he had taken a very difficult and roundabout way back. His trail ended at a highway and there was no way that she would be able to follow him after walking down the concrete road for a mile before veering back off towards the prison.

The Dixon thought carefully before responding.

"She ain't no daisy, that's for sure, but I don't think she's gonna come kill us all," he paused as he shifted uncomfortably under Rick's stare, "I tell you man, I ain't never seen notin' like that. She was callin' 'em walkers to her to kill 'em." he explained with the image of her wild eyes vivid in his mind.

Rick looked away to scan the yard one more time.

"We'll let's just hope she moves on."