[Author's note: This is a fill for a Walking Dead Kinkeme prompt. No smut here, just Daryl struggling for survival. Enjoy!]

The pain was not unlike having a heated hypodermic needles jammed home between his ribs.

"Oh FUCK."

Daryl threw himself violently to the side, scrambling to his knees as a steady stream of curse words burst from his lips. The snake he'd landed on slithered away, a fleeting streak of flashing scales disappearing into the brush. A Copperhead. He'd fallen right on top of a goddamn Copperhead.

It was bad enough his horse had spooked and thrown him. Worse than worse that he'd landed on the very snake that had scared the horse in the first place. And to think, he'd been glad he hadn't gone right over the side of the cliff.

The fall down the rock face might have been preferable to this.

Gingerly, Daryl lifted his shirt. The bite was impossible to miss, an angry red colour and already swelling as blood streamed steadily from the twin punctures.

"Oh fuck."

Living in Georgia his whole life, Daryl had always known there'd been a chance he'd be bitten by a snake. Hell, with as much time as he spent in the woods, he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. But now, with no chance of getting his hands on anti-venom? What a fucking joke.

Shakily, Daryl pushed himself to his feet. He tore his shirt off, not liking the way the material rubbed against the fresh wound. He made a concentrated effort to slow his breathing and calm down- panic was not the answer in this situation. Panic led to an increased heart rate, which would power the venom through his veins. What he needed to do was get back to camp, and wait it out. See what happened.

The venom was spreading with every beat of Daryl's heart, and so was the pain. It crept up his torso and leaked down into his legs, making it hard to focus. He staggered under the weight of the pain, grabbing at nearby trees for support. More than anything, Daryl wanted to lie down and let the pain consume him. That would be the easy option.

Thing was, he'd never been one for taking the easy way out.

Each footstep was a chore. Nothing had ever been this hard before, taken this much intense concentration. His breath was ragged and short; he used every ounce of his willpower to keep moving and focus on remembering what he knew about Copperheads. They didn't always inject venom, he knew that. Copperheads gave dry bites more often than not. If Daryl was lucky, the snake hadn't used very much venom.

Daryl sure hoped today was his lucky day.

Each lurching step he took seemed like a small miracle. His head throbbed dully and he felt cold, even though he was soaked with sweat. How far was it to the camp? Hard to know. He hadn't been riding very long before being tossed, but every foot might as well have been a mile right now.

Alright man, you got this. Gonna make it back. Gotta make it back. No other option. Fuck, that hurts.

Blood oozed steadily out of the wounds. Copperhead venom was a hemolytic, and the bleeding wasn't likely to stop soon, not with the way Daryl was exerting himself. He groaned and clutched at his tender side, feeling the swollen flesh under the pads of his fingers.

The minutes stretched into hours as Daryl moved through the trees. He was shaking uncontrollably and felt so weak he didn't know how he was still upright.

Just a little more, you pussy. Just a little farther and you can sleep all you want.

Daryl squinted at the ground, looking for signs that he'd come this way. Was he even headed in the right direction anymore?

Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. Just keep walking.