The sky began to darken with erratic clouds as a rush of violent wind carried itself through an empty town. Broken window shafts beat against the side of the building walls and wet paper helplessly clung wet to the side of cars. Trees whispered silently with each other through the voice of their rustling leaves, warning that the storm rapidly approaching might inflict damage on the unwary shrubbery. Corpses that were ripped to shreds lied dormant in abandoned vehicles that were left behind by the living. A light blanket of snow plagued the concrete and grass in the small town, making the buildings shudder under its tyranny.

The undead stretched their frozen limbs out through the snow and sauntered about the streets. They grumbled and snarled while stumbling on their feet, their decaying eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of life; any sign of food. Birds were nowhere in sight and most likely took to the greater south to escape the cold of winter that threatened their very lifestyle. The undead fixated themselves on a new sound that flooded their keen ears, most turning around the face the moving object barreling towards them. As they moved in the small herd, a couple fell to the ground in defeat to the cold, the others ignoring their comrade's cries as they passed by them. The ones who went down clawed and crawled their way through the cold snow to try and keep up with the others. Their tongues drooled at the thought of warm flesh in their mouths and hoped the object speeding towards them could be a potential feast.

These objects were vehicles and they challengingly forced themselves through the tough wind that combated the trucks steel. There were three vehicles that came to an abrupt halt at a three way intersection: one red Chevy, one green SUV, and one large silver Dodge with a motorcycle strapped down tightly in the back.

"Take 'em all out silently. We'll take the streets and find supplies!" The group's leader barked at his fellow survivors over the howling wind. They braced their hand held weapons tightly in their fingers and moved into formation, sticking to each other like glue.

"There's too many Walkers, Rick!" A young Asian man's voice wavered as he directed his words towards his leader. Rick looked over his shoulder at him as they inched closer towards the impending herd,

"Don't break rank! We've got to do this!" He whirled his head around just in time to see a decaying face and slammed his machete into its brain. With a sharp hiss, he kicked it to the ground with his boot and once he shed first blood, carnage began to ensue.

Arms swung like authentic killing machines and blood spewed upon the innocent white snow all around them. Bodies of the Walkers thumped loudly against the ground as they were put out of their misery and dying grumbles escaped their airless throats. The desperate survivors fought and protected their weak ones with every ounce of dwindling strength they had. Determined to find whatever food and supplies that hid in the abandoned buildings dark depths, Rick pushed forward along with his right hand man; a tall, lean man brandishing a crossbow strapped to his back. The grip on his nine-inch knife tightened and he jumped on a Walker, plunging the blade deep into its undead eye. Slowly, the group began to spread out from one another to take out any remaining Walkers that slowly made their way towards them.

"Daryl!" Rick's voice growled loudly and Daryl's eyes turned to see a Walker lunging at Rick's pregnant wife. His backwoods reactions were quick and his rough hand latched onto the back of the Walker's dirty shirt. With an abrupt yank, the Walker fell to the ground and Daryl shoved his knee against the corpse's chest, ramming his knife into its head. Daryl looked back at Rick's wife, Lori, and nodded at her thankful eyes.

"Is that it?" Glenn, the young Asian man, asked with curiosity. His eyes searched the surrounding area for anymore approaching Walkers,

"Looks like we got most of them for now." Maggie said with confirmation and Glenn looked back at her. Rick quickly approached them, his boots sloshing through the powdery snow.

"Everyone take your weapons and split up into two-man teams. Only use your guns if absolutely necessary. Find what you can and if there's any trouble, shoot once."

With a few weary nods, the group split up in their teams and fanned out amongst the streets to scavenge the nearby buildings. Rick and Daryl quickly moved towards the gun store they had been eyeing ever since arriving in the town moments ago. Daryl yanked the crossbow from his shoulder and pressed the butt against his shoulder, raising it in front of him warily. Rick tightened his cold fingers around the handle of his machete, his hand beginning to shake with anticipation once they arrived at the door.

Rick looked over his shoulder at Daryl and the crossbow-wielder nodded humbly, pressing his bow tighter against his body to take aim. Rick grabbed the handle of the door and counted silently in his head, twirling the handle and shoving his shoulder against it. Rick raised his machete in the air and Daryl jumped through the door frame, pointing his crossbow about in different directions. His finger itched to press the trigger once his blue eyes acclimated to the darkness of the room. Upon seeing and hearing no undead intruders, Daryl and Rick cautiously lowered their weapons.

"Where is everything?" Rick's boots thumped softly against the hardwood floors as he walked further into the room and examined its contents. Daryl moved around a table and crouched down behind a glass display case.

"Ain't nothin' left here but a bunch of empty shell boxes…" Daryl tossed an empty ammo box onto the floor and huffed with discontent. They came all this way just to find nothing but false hope.

"Dammit!" Rick shoved his foot against a glass case and it fell off its pedestal heavily against the ground. The glass erupted all over the flooring in a loud crash and Rick gritted his teeth angrily. Daryl sighed and looked to the ground, chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously. He knew the position Rick had been put in was tough and this was the third town in a month they had come up empty handed. Daryl couldn't even remember the last time he ate; sacrificing his own rations for the weaker members of the group.

Rick and Daryl's attention jumped to the back of the store when they heard a rustle come from the shadows. Daryl propped his crossbow against his shoulder and the two prudently stepped towards the back of the shop, their ears being raided by the howling wind that continued to beat against the building. Daryl narrowed his eyes and looked to the ground, seeing an evident sign of brief movement. Rick tilted his head and knelt down on one knee,

"What's this?" His voice asked the question quietly while rubbing his fingers across the floor. Daryl crouched down next to him and pulled a flashlight from his jacket pocket, clicking it on and staring at the textured print.

"Footprints… leadin' out the back door right there." The ball of light followed the print trail to the back door, and as if on cue, the door slowly blew open from a touch of the violent wind. Daryl and Rick got to their feet, Daryl turning off his small flashlight and placing it back in his pocket. They both walked to the back door and saw the footprints fading into the pastiness of white snow.

"Should we follow them?" Rick asked while looking over at Daryl briefly. Daryl deliberated quickly in his instinctual mind and shook his head,

"Nah… whoever it was, we scared 'em off. Let's just keep lookin' round for food and other supplies. We're gonna have to find shelter quick. Storm's comin' in fast…" Daryl looked up at the sky through the back door and already noticed that large snowflakes were beginning to fall. Rick swallowed a dry lump in his throat and turned around towards the front door of the gun shop.

Snow sharply bit at Daryl's warm skin, the air becoming colder and colder with each minute passing. The dark blizzard clouds above them were moving in fast with the hectic winds whirling through the town. As more clouds moved in, they enthusiastically consumed the light of day and persuaded the night to come faster than expected. Daryl kept a watchful eye in the streets as his group moved from building to building, trying to find food for their desperately hungry stomachs. Even if they couldn't find food here, Daryl would do everything in his power to hunt and kill some type of meal for their dry mouths. His people counted on their broken white knight.

'Gotta hurry and find shelter...' Daryl found himself staring back up at the snowy sky once a vicious wind tore at his hair and clothing. He narrowed his eyes once seeing the snow beginning to fall heavier and heavier. There was no more time to waste; with or without the group, he had to scout ahead to find shelter for the night.

As he walked carefully through the street, he looked back and forth for any type of Walker movement that might threaten security. There were houses just on the edge of town and if wouldn't take any time for him to find a secure one and clear it out quickly. Daryl worked better by himself anyways. He was more effective when he didn't have anyone to worry about or protect in this type of situation. Daryl narrowed his eyes and stopped, seeing a large, fresh black line stretching from sidewalk to sidewalk. He knelt down and rubbed his fingers in the sticky liquid, bringing it to his nostrils and wafting in its familiar smell.

"Motor oil…?" He stared back down at the black line confusingly and stood back to his feet. Daryl rubbed his fingers on his pant leg and stepped over the line, careful not to step in it and leave tracks. He pulled the crossbow against his shoulder and carefully walked through the small graveyard of cars, his eyes darting back and forth from window to window.

Another violent wind tore through the town and this time, it brought a snowy vengeance. The snow rained down heavily from the blackened sky, causing Daryl to stop and question his ventures. Even though he worked well alone, he knew that it wasn't the smartest idea to stray too far from the group. He had to learn that the hard way back at Hershel's farmhouse. Daryl threw his arm up in front of his face to shield his cold cheeks from another gust of wind, grunting to himself as he felt his fingers beginning to go numb.

"Rick!" A frantic cry shouted from the middle of town and Daryl turned around, seeing Lori, Carol, Carl, and Beth all running from an alleyway.

"Shit!" Daryl hissed to himself upon seeing a large horde of Walkers scrambling after the four. Darkness began to overcome Daryl's eyes as he ran forward, dodging cars back and forth. He could hear gunshots sounding from Rick's pistol and soon the others joined in. Daryl cursed to himself mentally, regretting straying off too far from them.

'Our scent must've wafted through the area with all this goddamn wind!' Daryl jumped over the hood of a car and as his feet found solid ground he came to a dead stop. He gritted his teeth and managed to hear snarling overcome the howling wind as Walkers found him in their sights. Even if the air was dark, their noses could pick him out of the storm.

"Daryl!" Rick's eyes frantically searched through the large herd of Walkers that began to lay waste to the town and trudged towards his group. Rick, Glenn, Hershel, T-Dog, and Maggie all stood at the front lines, protecting their weaker members behind them. Rick yanked the trigger on his Python and laid a Walker to rest as it plunged to the ground.

"We need to get to the cars and get out of here!" Lori shouted and Rick looked back over his shoulder,

"We're not leavin' Daryl behind!" Rick shoved his foot against a Walkers chest and it slammed to the ground, "Get back, get back!" Rick waved his hand at everyone and they back up quickly, gaining distance between them and the herd. Rick turned at the sound of a loud shriek and saw more Walkers closing in behind them.

"We're surrounded!" Glenn shouted and Rick's head began to twist and turn with some type of strategy to get his group out of this mess. He gritted his teeth,

"Everyone! Get together!" The group quickly assembled tightly together and each brandished a weapon menacingly in their fingers.

'It can't end like this! Not here!' Rick shouted in his mind and found his back pressed up against another member of his group. Slowly, like ravenous wolves, the Walkers began to close in on them quickly and without mercy. Rick's eyes tried to adapt to the darkness that veiled over them. Without out any light of day, taking on the countless amounts of Walkers would be all but useless. Every bit of snow that struck Rick's feathered cheeks felt like a heavy punch. His eyes strained to keep open as the wind pounded against his body and all the Walkers silhouettes meshed together in a mass of black.

"Rick!? What do we do!?"

"Where will we go!?

"We can't take them all!"

The frantic voices of his dying group members flooded Rick's ears; slowly, all his hope began to drain to one little drop.

Rick's ears heard glass shatter and his eyes widened when a giant ball of fire exploded in the middle of the street. A mass of gunshots reigned across the first line of the Walker herd and they all collapsed to the snowy ground. Rick's eyes flickered in the firelight and he looked about, trying to find the culprit of his groups rescue. He took notice that the Walkers closing in behind them had been gun downed in a blur. The fire escaped from its origin in the street and spread across an oil trail, stretching from sidewalk to sidewalk, making a cut-off point where the Walkers couldn't get to them.

"Get to your vehicles if you don't want to die!" A loud voice shouted and Rick pointed his gun up to a rooftop, the group's eyes all flashing to the figure. A black silhouette stood on the snowy rooftop of the gun shop,

"We're not leaving without our friend!" Rick shouted back hostilely as he couldn't decipher the gender of the figure through the howling of the wind. The clothing of the figure flapped in the heavy turmoil and the snowfall made it almost impossible to see,

"I'll deal with him! Get to your vehicles before they come for you! The fire won't last long!"

Rick gritted his teeth and looked back to the wall of flames, seeing the Walkers lighting themselves on fire as they stepped through the inferno. He tried to find a glimpse of Daryl but couldn't see any sign of his right hand man.

"Rick, we have to go!" Glenn shouted as he already directed everyone to get back to the vehicles. Hershel and T-Dog took down many stray Walkers on their journey back to the three-way intersection, protecting the women as they climbed into the comfort of the cars. Rick's blue eyes glanced back up at the rooftop, seeing that the individual was gone with the wind. He didn't want to trust whoever it was, but at that point, he had absolutely no choice.

Daryl stood in a large ring of fire surround by approaching Walkers, looking back and forth from wall to wall. They walked through the flames, igniting and ignoring their skin and clothing being singed to ashes. Now he knew what the oil on the streets was for.

He pressed the butt of his crossbow tightly against his shoulder and raised it at the Walkers beginning to crowd into the framed fire. They were too close for comfort. Daryl lowered his crossbow and pulled out his knife, catching a flash out of the corner of his eye. His blue eyes moved to see the bottom of a car catching fire and he stepped back, knowing what the outcome may be. A tight hand gripped his shoulder and he whirled around, shoving back a Walker and slamming his knife into its skull. Another lunged at him from the side and his fingers grabbed a handful of its clothing just in time. The Walkers rancid breath washed over his face and he turned his cheek to avoid the stench. Reaching his free arm up, he rammed his long bladed knife up through its mouth and sent its soul to another world. He tossed the body to the side and jumped back to avoid a flaming corpse as it fell to the snowy ground. A chill rolled up his spine as he heard a high pitched ring echo through the town and his ears shattered on impact.

His body slammed up against a car and it knocked the breath right out of his lungs, his mouth gaping open as he gasped for air. He growled in his throat and opened his eyes, seeing the flames dancing about in a blur and burning corpses trudging towards him. He tried to move his legs but they wouldn't budge under his order. The shock of the car explosion rendered him senseless and all he could do was watched as a large group of Walkers made it through the flames to eat him where he lied. His fingers grew numb from the cold snow and they twitched to try to drag him away from his awaiting demise.

A bright flash of red flew through the air and Daryl's eyes immediately caught where it landed. It was a road flare attached to some unknown device and landed right in to middle of the vastly approaching horde. A figure jumped through the flames and stood defensively in front of Daryl, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out the face of individual. A long black hood masked their face and the flaps of a cloak whipped violently from the wind. The figure turned quickly and crouched down over Daryl, tossing the flaps of the black cloak over him. He could feel hot breath breathing closely against his face, wondering what the hell was going to happen next. His ringing ears picked up yet another explosion and a soft grunt come from the person hovering over him. The comfort of the cloaks heat disappeared and Daryl's eyes flickered back into the flames as he saw Walkers body parts strung all over the place. Blood stained the snow and cars among them and Daryl noticed an odd weapon gripped tightly in both hands of the cloaked figure in front of him.

A large reaping scythe swung gracefully through the air, slicing Walkers heads cleanly off their bodies.

Daryl didn't know what he was seeing. Was it the grim reaper finally coming to claim to souls of the living dead? After another swing of the long blade, the figure turned around and grabbed his arm,

"Get to your feet! More are coming!"

Daryl gritted his teeth and the hooded figure pulled him to his feet with barely any effort on his end. His vision blurred in light vertigo and the hooded figure steadied him.

"Get your ass together and stop being a pussy!" The person shouted into his ringing ears. Daryl shook his head and saw the figure swing down and hooked the strap of his crossbow onto their shoulder. Daryl took his first solid footsteps and finally gathered his senses back into their bundle.

"Follow me! Hurry!" They jumped on top of a car and Daryl narrowed his eyes, feeling split in between running in the other direction or trusting this strange person. They stomped their foot on the car top to gather Daryl's attention, "Let's go or all your friends are going to die!"

Daryl huffed and jumped on top of the car, following them as they jumped over the diminishing wall of fire. Daryl landed on his feet and felt a surge of pain bolt through his chest, gasping and falling to his knees. He gripped his ribs tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath,

"What are you doing!? Come on!" He felt a hand grab is arm again and pull him along. Daryl stumbled back to his feet and followed the figure into the shadows of a small alleyway, eyeing his precious crossbow on their back. If only he could just grab it and make his way back to the group. He also eyed the automatic rifle tightly secured under his crossbow, wondering if that was the culprit of the downpour of bullets he heard earlier. Daryl stopped at the edge of the alleyway and felt another surge of pain wreak havoc through his ribs. With a sharp grunt, he looked over once hearing an engine roar to life and bright lights illuminated the air like the sun.

"Get on the back. I'll take you to your friends." The figure sat down on the seat of a large four-wheeler with a small trailer hooked on the back. Daryl hesitated at first, but ultimately his feet moved faster than his brain and he found himself sitting on the pack panel of the four-wheeler. Through his ringing ears he heard the engine rev and his body lurched forward, almost toppling off the back of the wheeler. Getting a tight grip on the railing of the wheeler, he straightened himself the best he could, feeling a throbbing sensation slowly crawling through his side.

Daryl wanted to yank the black hood off the figure so badly his hand even lifted and touched the tip of it, but then his hand moved to his crossbow. He chomped at the inside of his cheek anxiously and felt the wheeler weave off to the side, dodging a few Walkers that lurched out towards him. Daryl's face began to grow numb from the cold air and he could barely feel his hair tickling his forehead. The long black flaps of the hooded figure's cloak wrapped around Daryl's body, shielding him from the cold wind caused by the storm. He narrowed his eyes as he saw the vehicles of his comrades waiting patiently for his arrival. The snow fell like ashes of a volcano against the headlights of the trucks and the four-wheeler came slowly to a stop. Daryl slid off the back of the four-wheeler and grunted from his boots impact,

"Tell your friends to follow me to safety. The fire's scent will draw more of them in and you'll only run into a dead end." The figure revved the engine of the four-wheeler and moved down the street, stopping and waiting for them. Daryl moved quickly into the red Chevy, opening the back door and seeing Carl and Beth moving out of his way. He strained while getting into the truck, growling to himself and shutting the door.

"You alright?" Rick asked while looking around the driver's seat and Daryl nodded, taking a deep breath for the first time in a while.

"He wants us to follow him. Says he's got a safe place for us."

"I don't know… he might be leadin' us into a trap." Rick said skeptically and Daryl narrowed his eyes, shaking his head,

"Don't matter. Asshole's got my crossbow and he ain't gonna get away with it."

.:=:.

Rick gauged the ride of their journey at about twenty minutes to half an hour. He followed to four-wheeler aimlessly through the storm, almost getting lost in the heavy snowfall. It was almost mesmerizing watching each and every flake pass by the headlights, sometimes the four-wheeler disappearing into the haze. He noticed that trees were getting heavier with each passing second and they were most likely on a back road in the forest. The air in the truck's cab was quiet and Rick could hear strained breathing coming from Daryl behind him. Something had happened but Daryl kept to himself.

"Are we really doing this?" Lori asked while looking over at Rick, who kept his eyes on the road. There was a brief pause from Rick and he nodded,

"Gonna have to. Walkers from all over the place are headed to that area and we'll get stuck on the roads. Plus, we gotta get outta this storm… it's gettin' too hostile out there." Rick squinted his eyes and tried to follow the trail of the four-wheelers tracks, seeing that the wheeler had disappeared once again.

"What if there are more people where we're going? They could kill us." Lori explained the obvious and Rick sighed,

"I won't let that happen… don't worry." Rick's eyes moved from the windshield briefly to the rearview mirror, making sure his fellow survivors were keeping up with him.

"What's that?" Beth asked from behind and Rick's eyes immediately returned to the windshield. His eyes softened and his foot pulled off the accelerator as he saw a large brick wall through the veil of snow.

"The gates open. Should we go in?"

"The tire tracks lead in there…" Rick replied to his wife plainly and continued in through the opening of the wall, seeing a tall fence being held up by a rope. Once the headlights of the truck hit the house, Rick leaned forward in his seat and stared in awe. He could hear the shifts of Lori, Carl, Beth, and Daryl in their seats to stare at the dark house as well. Rick came to a stop a few feet from a large garage door extending from the house, seeing the figure holding the broken garage door open and waiting for them.

"Get into the garage quickly. The storm's bringing all the cold air. I'll get the others." Rick shoved open the driver's side door and stepped out, moving through the downpour of snow.

After retrieving the rest of his group members, Rick lead them towards the open garage as the hooded rescuer waited patiently for them. After they all took cover into the large, dark garage, the figure pulled the door shut and latched it against a ring on the floor. Rick yanked over his pistol and cocked it, pointing it at the figures back and using whatever light from a small lantern in the corner to see in front of him.

"Get up on your feet slowly. Don't make any sudden movements or I won't hesitate!" He ordered and watched the figures gloved hands rise to air and slowly stand to their feet. Rick stepped forward cautiously, "Pull that crossbow off your back, that rifle, and set down that scythe. We don't need any problems here."

The figure slowly pulled Daryl's crossbow and rifle off their back, setting it down on the ground along with the scythe. Again, they rose back to their feet, hands still raised in the air. Rick narrowed his eyes,

"Now turn around and take off that hood... I want to see your face." The person turned around to face them, the black hood still shadowing their face. They made no incentive to remove the hood from their head, making Rick growl and step forward; pointing his pistol to wherever he thought was a forehead. His hand grabbed the top of the hood and he ripped it off, his lips parting in a bit of surprise at the sight.

"You gonna kill the person that saved all your sorry asses?" The "He" they all assumed this person was, was actually a "She". A black face mask covered from her cheeks to the bottom of her neck. A pair of hazel eyes stared straight through Rick with no malicious intent as she awaited his answer. A hard lump rolled down Rick's throat,

"How many of you live here?" He asked grimly and the woman looked past him to the other members of the group, seeing their desperate and fatigued faces. Her eyes flicked back to him,

"Just me."

"Bullshit." Rick said doubtfully and her head flicked towards the door to the house,

"You're welcome to go look for yourself. All you're gonna find is an empty house." The two squared off in a momentary staring contest and Rick saw the honesty in her burning eyes. Hesitantly, Rick let the hammer of his gun back into position and lowered his gun. His jaw tightened and watched the woman move past him towards the door to the house,

"Everyone follow me..." She unlocked the door with a key and pushed it open, walking into the dark shadows of the house. Each member looked to each other desperately and then to Rick for an answer. Silently, he nodded for them to follow and was the first to step into the house, making sure it was safe before putting their lives on the line.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow from the ground and wrapped the strap around his shoulder. As he stepped into the dark house, it was oddly warm for being abandoned and it made him shiver with silent delight. Dim lights flickered on by the command of the cloaked woman, making everyone stare in confusion. There was no electricity anywhere; what made this place so different?

The woman stopped and pulled the mask off her face, her cheeks red with warmth from the comfortable shield of cloth. Daryl watched as a tumble of long blonde hair draped over her shoulders once she pulled the hairband from her bun. She pulled off the long black cloak and rested it on a chair, turning back to the crowd. Each of the members walked about the kitchen, and some into the living room, staring in awe at the house. Rick shoved his pistol back in the holster hanging from his belt,

"I take it you all have seen better days." Rick looked back to the woman, seeing her curious eyes staring at him. Rick looked to Daryl as the young Dixon stared back at him,

"It's been a long time since we've found somewhere worth staying." Rick saw a slight shimmer in her eyes and narrowed his own, "You are letting us stay, right?"

"You're welcome to. I won't throw you out in this storm. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night." She said reasonably. Daryl looked up at the lights,

"How are you doing this? There shouldn't be any electricity." His blue eyes looked into her hazel orbs,

"Whoever lived here before had two diesel generators hooked up to the main lines of the house. I turned them on while I waited for you and your group to arrive."

"How long have you been here?" Glenn asked and the woman looked around to see everyone staring at her. She looked to Glenn,

"A while now..." Her eyes shifted back and forth from one group member to another, seeing their dirty complexions and tattered clothes. She stopped at Carl, seeing his blue eyes staring out from under the shadow of his sheriff's hat. Turning her head, she looked back to Rick,

"I have food, water, and clothing. You're all welcome to help yourselves. If you all take showers, take it easy. Some of the rooms have their own bathrooms and it shouldn't hurt for the showers to run all at the same time. But once the hot water is used up, it'll take about a half an hour for it to heat up again." She cocked half a smile when she saw everyone's eyes widen at the sound of the word "Shower". It was like it was too good to be true. "You can take a pick of any bedroom but the last one on the right upstairs. It's mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go change my clothing." She swiveled around on her boot and walked towards the stairs,

"Wait..." She stopped on Rick's request and turned around to face him and his group. Rick's eyes hardened, "Can we at least know your name? You did go out of your way to save us... after all."

The woman's eyes contemplated and glazed over the group once again. Her eyes shifted to Daryl, the man she went out of her way the most to save.

"Reagan Blackwood."

.:=:.

Reagan retreated to her room and left the survivors to themselves. She could see that they were exhausted, starving, sleep deprived, and scared. Especially their leader; she could tell that he was on edge every moment up until she left the room. But Reagan understood. She didn't bother to catch any of the group member's names and in all honesty she didn't care to. All she wanted was to coop herself up in her room and let them rest themselves. She didn't want any part of it.

Reagan yanked off her double-layered jacked and tossed it on her bed, turning on the lamp that sat lonely on the bed-stand. She gritted her teeth and lifted up her shirt, her cold hands stroking over her white skin to her back. Twitching, she felt the sticky feel of blood drying slowly on her flesh and quickly moved to the large mirror of the vanity in front of her bed. She stared into the mirror and saw a piece of metal shrapnel burrowed into her skin.

"Fuck..." She hissed and mumbled more curses under her breath, spinning around to face a large medical kit sitting on the vanity. Reagan pulled her shirt off and tossed it on the bed, sitting down in a chair and feeling the cold air of the room biting at her exposed skin. Flipping open the medical kit, her fingers found a long pair of tongs, alcohol pads, gauze, and a roll of medical tape. She spun around in her chair so she would be able to see the wound in the mirror and direct her hands properly to clean up the lesion. Brandishing the tongs in her hand, she stretched out his thin skin and took a deep breath, gritting her teeth.

The cold tongs bit into her skin like a burning knife and she whimpered, snarling to herself as the tongs worked their way against the piece of metal. Blood began to seep from the wound and she clamped the tongs together, bracing herself. She yanked her hand back and gasped at the singing pain in her back, dropping the tongs and the shrapnel on the vanity. Her lips breathed out strained pants and Reagan scrubbed the alcohol pad into the wound, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath. She tossed the pad on the vanity and pressed gauze against the laceration, grabbing the roll of tape and biting off pieces with her teeth.

Reagan stood to her feet and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and doing her best to ignore the pain slamming against the back of her ribs. She took to her dresser and pulled out a fresh shirt, throwing it on and taking a sigh of relief. Her ears picked up the sound of the group members trudging up the stairs to find their pick of the bedrooms. Muddled laughter and conversation made it to her ears through the thick wooden door.

Daryl, downstairs, walked through the house skeptically, checking it out to make sure the woman spoke the truth about being alone. It wasn't so much as a paranoia thing, just these days he couldn't take any more chances and it was standard procedure. His boots thumped quietly against the hard wood floors as he made way back into the living room, seeing Rick in the middle of the room, staring at the boarded windows. Daryl stopped and leaned on the wall,

"Hard to believe, huh?" Daryl asked and Rick's blue eyed gaze slowly fell on him. Rick gave a small nod,

"Feels like a dream..." His body was tight and he didn't know what to do with himself. Daryl heard a pair of feet tapping their way down the stairs and both he and Rick looked over to the stairwell. Reagan appeared and slowed her pace once she saw the two staring at her,

"Thought ya'll would be getting cleaned up by now." She turned her head and moved towards the door leading to the garage. Rick turned to face her,

"We're lettin' the others get settled in first."

"Still don't trust me, huh?" She couldn't help but smile to herself as she unlocked the garage door and disappeared inside. Rick and Daryl exchanged quick glances and waited for her to come back inside. The door slammed back open by her foot and cracked against the wall, Reagan stepping in with the scythe and rifle in her hands. She rested the scythe by the door and hung the rifle on a coat rack on the wall, walking past Rick into the living room.

"How secure is this place?" Rick asked and turned around to see Reagan throwing wood into the large fireplace. She glanced over her shoulder briefly and then returned to her work,

"Secure enough." She said plainly and stacked the wood like a teepee. Wadding up a bunch of newspaper, she stuffed the balls of paper in the middle of the wood to help fuel the fire. Rick narrowed his eyes,

"That didn't answer my question." Reagan sighed and turned around to face him, standing fully to her feet. She looked around and pointed to the windows,

"I boarded up every window of this house on the lower level, inside and out. All the doors are reinforced with double locks and the front gate is always shut. In all the time I've been here not one corpse has set foot inside the wall. That secure enough for you?" She asked sarcastically and stared at Rick.

"Don't need to be a smartass bout it." Reagan looked over at Daryl upon hearing his raspy voice and narrowed her eyes,

"I understand where you're all coming from; I've been in your position many times. But there are no faults here... I've made sure of that." Reagan tried to reassure the two men. Grabbing lighter fluid from the top of the fireplace, she squeezed the flammable liquid all over the wood and with the snap of a match, she tossed the flame inside. It exploded into a small ball of fire, making Rick step back from the heat. Reagan turned around, "I'll make you all some food..."

"You don't have to do that." Rick said as Reagan pushed past him into the kitchen. She ignored him and opened the door to a large pantry, turning on the light. Rick stared at the mass amounts of food piled into the pantry,

"You sure about that?" She asked while glancing over her shoulder. Rick had nothing left to say to her as she pulled out boxes and cans of various foods.

"Rick..." The three looked over to see Lori standing in the hallway. Both she and Reagan exchanged a quick glance and Lori's eyes moved back to her husband, "Come on... you should get cleaned up."

"I think I'll wait." Rick argued softly and Daryl bounced his shoulder off the wall,

"You should go. You've been runnin' on fumes for the past couple days."

"Please Rick..." Lori waited for him and Rick hesitated. He looked to Daryl, who nodded reassuringly to him that he would watch the woman. Rick let out a sigh and glanced at Reagan as he walked by, Lori turning around after him and disappearing into the hallway. Daryl's blue eyes locked onto Reagan and watched as she rummaged around in cupboards for kitchenware. Her blonde hair wrapped around one shoulder like a long snake.

"I take it you're the group's watchdog?" She knew he was staring at her and Reagan didn't bother to look at him. Daryl huffed to himself and narrowed his eyes, walking towards her as she snapped open the top of a can.

"Better watch that smart mouth of yours." Daryl bit, causing Reagan to smile and look up from her task,

"Oh... the dog has a bite." She mused and returned her gaze back down to dumping the cans of vegetables in a large bowl, "Shouldn't be talkin' like that to the girl who saved your life. Without me you'd sure be an easy meal for those corpses."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his lip anxiously. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but she was right. The situation he was put in definitely would have cost him his life and the feeling of helplessness was something he didn't want to remember.

"So how's your side? Took the hit to the car pretty brutally. I'm surprised you can stand." Reagan looked up at him and Daryl lowered his head. As if on cue, his ribs throbbed violently,

"I'm fine. Ain't nothin' I can't handle."

"Hm... tough guy act I see." She rose an eyebrow and looked down, opening a box of rice and pouring it in a pot filled with water. Turning around, she turned on the oven and placed the pot on the stovetop. Daryl watched her flawless movements and sharp body, wondering how a girl like her could handle both herself and him at the same time in town. She was something else; nothing he'd ever seen before. Many questions flooded his mind about this girl but he had to restrain himself. She seemed like a firecracker and he wasn't in the mood or the mindset to bicker with her.

.:=:.

Reagan had prepared the dinner for everyone and they sat down at two large dining room tables to consume their king's feast. Reagan left the group to themselves and retreated up the stairs, with a small amount of food, to her room. Without her in the room, the group could eat carelessly like the family that they were. They piled rice, vegetables, and bread high on their plates and ate until their bellies were full.

For the first time in months they laughed and smiled without a care in the world.

The flame in the fireplace flickered happily in the eyes of the survivors and crackled along with their laughter. The group had extinguished the fires loneliness and in gratitude, the inferno warmed the entire house to keep them all cozy throughout the night. The wind slammed up against the boarded windows and the whirling snow desperately clasped against the house to try and get in. Slowly, one by one, the members of the group, who couldn't stuff anymore food in their stomachs, retired to their rooms of comfort.

Daryl was the last left in the dining room. Carol had saved him a room upstairs and he was ready to retire for the night. He couldn't remember what a warm shower felt like and he couldn't imagine how good it was going to feel. His rough hands tossed a few more large pieces of wood into the fire before going upstairs to ensure the house would stay warm most of the night. But just as Daryl was leaving to the stairwell, Reagan's black cloak caught his eye. He let out a deep breath and grabbed the heavy fabric, studying it admiringly. He felt a shift in the fabric and narrowed his brows, sticking his fingers through a large hole in the back. As Daryl retracted his hand, he noticed a deep red color staining his fingers.

He narrowed his eyes at the blood and looked back to the large lesion in the black fabric. The blood was still fresh and Daryl thought to himself briefly. Something happened to where she had been injured at some point in that day, whether it was before or after they had shown up in the town. Daryl tossed the cloak back in its original place and took to the stairs, taking one step after another until he reached the top. He placed his hand on the knob of his temporary bedroom door and stopped, looking at the door at the end of the hallway and seeing a low light crawling out from under the bottom of the door. His eyes lowered and his hand turned the doorknob softly, opening the door and stepping in.

The room was large by what he could see with the turn of a lamp switch. The small light illuminated whatever it could in the room and Daryl's eyes immediately fell on the bed. His face softened and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and setting his crossbow down next to the bed. Daryl slid his backpack off his shoulders and tossed it on the bed, rubbing his warm hands on his face. The scruff on his face scratched his fingers as they passed by and eventually his fingers ran through his greasy hair. He kicked off his boots next to his crossbow and turned around to see another door. A bathroom was connected to his bedroom to his contentment; he stripped off his jacket, tossing it on his bed and retreating into the washroom.