...

Daryl is going to die.

He's finally accepting of the fact but that doesn't mean he still wasn't pissed as all hell.

All he wanted was to have a peaceful hunting trip. Bag a few squirrels, some rabbits, maybe even a deer if he was lucky. Things had been going fine - his sack now heavy with a few furry creatures - and he was currently on the trail of what he hoped to be a decent sized buck he had found evidence of all weekend. He was just approaching the ends of the trail when he heard the unmistakable moans of walkers and he froze, creeping around the bend of the tree trunk in front of him.

That's where things started to go to shit.

He finally found his buck but he had gotten there too late. He could barely recognize the animal as it lay torn to shreds, swarmed by nearly a dozen walkers. Daryl cursed inwardly and began to silently back away, deciding the rabbits and squirrels would have to do. Just as he turned around though, he was face to face with the reeking smell of death and he just barely dodged the smacking jaws of the walker who had snuck up behind him. He had his knife jammed in the creatures skull before he could even blink but it was already too late, he had drawn attention of the other dozen or so walkers that were just a few feet away from him.

That was how he found himself in the middle of a swarm, the dead surrounding him and his knife was bloodied and clutched in his hand as he desperately tried to fight them off. His crossbow was thrown down on the ground somewhere behind him, the long range weapon unfortunately being no use to him in this type of odds. He wasn't sure how many walkers he had killed but it felt like as soon as one was dead, another one was taking its place. He felt like he wasn't even making a dent in his survival.

He heard a noise behind him and he cursed aloud, knowing that he was a goner. There was no way he could turn to take out the threat behind him when there were already so many in front of him. Just as a walker grabbed hold of his arm, Daryl already weakened and struggling to break free, he decided that this was it, he was done for and even though he was pissed, at least he went down fighting.

Then, something strange happened. Almost as if in slow motion Daryl watched as an arrow pierced through the eye of the walker just seconds from taking a chunk out of his arm. He even heard the soft swoosh of the arrow and even as more walkers pressed on around him he was still able to notice how the now dead walker slumped down to the ground, the arrow protruding from his eye socket and Daryl wasn't sure how but that was one of his arrows now embedded in the walker at his feet.

Another walker grabbed onto him and Daryl seemed to find new found strength as he wrenched his arm free, his other arm slamming the knife down into the bastards skull. Daryl wanted desperately to turn around, to see how an arrow from his crossbow had somehow ended up in a walker now at his feet but before he had a chance he felt something pressing up behind him and as he recognized the feel of another body against him he tensed until he realized that this body was not reaching for him but instead, bracing against him and Daryl finally understood what was happening just as an unfamiliar voice spoke up.

"Got your back!" he heard them shout and he was surprised to notice that the voice was light and soft, clearly feminine.

He didn't have time to question it though because just as this stranger behind him pushed back into him again they were being pushed closer by the walkers and within a few seconds they found a rhythm and backs together, pushing around the small hoard around them, the duo managed to finally rid the threat. With their backs together, Daryl wasn't able to get a good look at his savoir but he did manage to catch a few glimpses of pale skin and blonde hair.

When the last walker had fallen the two took a moment, both heaving against the other before Daryl decided to turn around and he froze as he instantly felt the cool length of a blade against the flushed skin of his throat. He was surprised to look down and see the woman in front of him. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but with the way he had felt her move against him, heard the small grunts of annoyance and exertion as they had fought together he sure as hell wasn't expecting this.

She was a tiny thing, barely reaching his chin. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, a few strands sticking out wildly around her face. There were a few spots of mud and blood and gore speckled on her entire appearance and her pale skin was coated in a sheen layer of sweat. Her eyes were what got him though - other than the knife that was being pressed against him with a strength he didn't expect from the fragile looking arm in front of him, of course.

They were big and blue and wide, locked on his own with a fierceness he couldn't fathom. They were intense, carefully watching his every move as he slowly lowered his knife, unwillingly letting it drop from his hands but he wasn't a fool to think that with the hard glare this woman was giving him, her lips set into a thin line and her shoulders squared in defense, that he had any type of control over this situation right now.

"Easy," he mutters, bringing his hands up to show that he is no longer armed.

Her blue eyes narrow. "I'm gonna leave and you're gonna let me," she starts and Daryl furrows his eyebrows. "I saved your life and ya don't owe me nothin' and I sure as hell don't owe you nothin' either, got it?" she spoke roughly, her voice challenging him.

He suddenly understood her defensive behavior. He was a man and she was a woman and even covered in guts and sweat, Daryl wasn't blind to admit that she wasn't bad to look at. He was sure that he was not the first man to have come across her and judging by how she was reacting now, those men certainly had given her a very bad impression on what men were like now. Daryl nodded silently and even though she seemed hesitant, the girl took a step back, keeping her knife pointed at him.

He watched as she bent down slightly, picking up his abandoned crossbow and he glanced down at the walker at his feet again, staring at the arrow that was still sticking out of its skull. She began to hand the bow over and Daryl was amazed at the strength she had, her arm only shaking slightly as she held the heavy weapon with one hand, her knife still pointed at the ready in the other and she suddenly stopped, bringing the crossbow closer to her body then.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me with this if I give it back to ya now, are ya?" she asks, her voice an annoyed drone and Daryl would have smirked if it had been any other situation.

"Nah," he mutters gruffly and then gestures down to the walker at his feet. "You the one who shot that?"

"Well it wasn't Bigfoot," the woman responds almost immediately and this time Daryl did find himself smirking, though barely.

"Where'd ya learn to shoot like that?" he asks, his voice hinting at almost awed annoyance.

"Does it matter?" she questions sharply and Daryl didn't fail to notice the small flash of pain in her eyes before she quickly masked it.

"Just you out here?" he asks her, taking the crossbow as she held it out again and he immediately shouldered it, showing her he once again meant no harm.

"No," she says evenly and Daryl had to admit, she's a good liar but he's a better one and he already knew she was on her own.

"How many walkers you kill?" he asks then.

She scoffs, her blue eyes sparkling. "Is that even a real question?" she asks incredulously, gesturing down to the small group at their feet and then she speaks again, her voice harder. "More than I can count."

Daryl nods. "How many people you kill?"

Her eyes glaze over, hardening as she narrows her eyes at him and he notices her hand clenching around her knife again. "Four." she says simply, her voice emotionless.

Daryl narrows his eyes now. "Why?"

They just stare at each other then, both seeming to want to get a read on the other and the blonde takes a deep breath before she finally speaks.

"Three because they were bastards who didn't know how to keep their hands to themselves," she says, her voice hard and her knuckles now white against the hilt of her knife and this confirmed his earlier suspicions as to why she was so distrusting of him.

"And the fourth?" he asks gruffly, clenching the strap around his chest.

He sees the pain in her eyes clearer now but her voice is even when she speaks, barely above a whisper. "He asked me to."

She finally drops her hand, letting her fingers relax against the now lowered knife and Daryl takes a small chance and crouches down to pick up his own knife, sheathing it as she watches his every move and he's sure she would have that knife of hers impaled in his body before he even tried taking a step toward her, even if he wanted to.

This woman in front of him had obviously been through hell and quite honestly, he wasn't even sure how she was still standing as he took in her appearance again. She was skinny, too skinny, and she had dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in weeks and he wasn't sure what it was about her, but something about this woman in front of him just screamed familiar. He automatically felt like he could trust her and it was more than just the fact that she came when she did and saved his sorry ass.

"Ya wanna come with me?" he finds himself asking, shifting on his feet and he sees her immediately go into defensive mode again. "Gotta place nearby. Shelter an' food. It's safe, there's a bunch'a us. More women and a'couple kids too."

She takes a step back and he resists the urge to flinch as she runs her eyes over him again, seeming to study him, searching for something. He can't help but feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny and he briefly wonders if this was what people felt like when he did the same thing to them.

"The men you've killed," she speaks up, jumping right into assumptions and he knew he couldn't even blame her. "Why'd you do it?"

Daryl tilts his head slightly, glancing her up and down, noticing a small black bag a few feet from her with what he assumes were her supplies and he shrugs.

"Gotta protect my family," he says simply.

He sees another flash of emotions in her eyes at the word but before he could think on what that meant, she nods her head. He watched as a war battled behind her eyes, one part of her still unwilling to trust him but he knew another part of her had to be thinking that she wouldn't survive out here much longer on her own.

"Okay." she says, biting her lip before turning around and grabbing the bag, slinging it up on her shoulder and looking at him expectantly.

"You got anymore questions for me?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

Her eyes graze over him again before she purses her lips. "What's your name?"

"Daryl Dixon." he grunts out.

He sees the hint of a smile on her lips before she looks back up at him and waves her hands in his direction.

"Well Mr. Dixon, lead the way." she says, a playful tone to her voice and he grumbles under his breath as he turns around and begins to walk back toward the direction of the prison.

He was surprised to hear her quiet steps behind him and he found himself glancing behind him, double checking to make sure she was in fact behind him because he certainly wasn't expecting her to move in the forest like he did. The two of them barely made a sound as they trudged through and when he glanced back up from watching her steady feet he saw her gaze on him.

"What?" she asks defensively.

He shakes his head. "So ya gotta name girl?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"I do." she says, maneuvering over a fallen tree.

Daryl resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Ya gonna tell me?" he mutters.

He's awarded with a brilliant smile and if he stumbles slightly and snaps a twig beneath his feet because of it, well, he wasn't going to admit that.

"Beth." she says, coming up to walk beside him, her arm brushing his slightly. "Beth Greene."

Daryl froze then, causing her to do the same, her hand immediately going to her knife as she scanned their surroundings, looking for trouble. Daryl just stared down at her though, his mind spinning. He had heard the stories of the lost Greene girl, having been lost in a swarm of walkers with her sister a few weeks before the group had even set foot on the Greene farm. After hearing the story he had just assumed, along with everyone else, that the girl was a lost cause. Just another victim to this world because from the way they had described her, he knew she didn't have a chance.

But here he was, standing next to a girl claiming to have the last name Greene and now that he looked at her, really looked at her he finally understood that sense of familiarity that had been present since he had looked into her eyes that first time. He still couldn't be sure though, this girl beside him was nothing like he had heard Maggie talk about. This girl had saved his life, he had no doubts that he would be walker chow at this very moment if she hadn't of showed up when she did.

"What is it?" she snaps, glancing up at him.

"Do ya know Hershel and Maggie Greene?" he hears himself asking, narrowing his eyes at her.

Her eyes widen slightly, her face immediately going hard and for the second time that day, Daryl feels the length of her knife against his throat.

...