So. I've never written any fanfic before. I haven't read much, either, to be perfectly honest, so this is all extremely new to me. Let me know what you think, & don't be shy. I figured the story could deal with having another stronger female character in the mix to even up the odds a bit, lol. DARYL DARYL DARYL. I own NOTHING(not the story this is based off of or the characters aside from the OCs)because I'm not intelligent/or creative enough! Enjoy, all!

Early morning sunlight peeked through the leaves of the shade tree and through one of the open, screened vents of Daryl's tent. The dappled light slowly crept across the floor where he lay, asleep and shirtless, until it reached his face. The new day's glow on his closed eyelids caused him to stir and inhale sharply as he began to stretch. Bleary eyes blinked open slowly as he moved to sit up, stretch a bit more. He grimaced at the light and the taste of sleep in his mouth.

"...Tastes like shit." he muttered to himself, voice hoarse from rest. He ran a hand over his face as he reached for his shirt and handgun and moved to open the flap of the tent and step out into the late summer's mix of early morning warmth and cool breeze. After a quick piss next to the tree he started walking to up towards the old farmhouse.

As he approached, he could see that unlike usual, he hadn't been the first one awake, this morning. Rick sat on the weathered steps of the porch, brooding. What about, he had no idea and no interest in knowing. His footfalls on the steps as he passes the former Sherriff's Deputy seem to break Rick's concentration.

"Good mornin'." he croaked.

"What's so good about waking up in hell again?" the rustic quipped as he allowed the old screen door to slam shut behind him. Rick conceded to himself with a smirk and dropped his head as he moved to follow the younger man in the house.

The scent of the day's first meal wafted through the house beckoning the men through the rooms into the kitchen. The old man, Herschel was sitting at the kitchen table talking across the room to his daughter, Maggie, who was at the stove, and Lori, Rick's wife, who was mixing a large bowl of scrambled eggs. The three were in good spirits, joking lightheartedly with each other about one of the old fogey's animal stories.

"...And when I went to pull my arm out of that cow's birth canal, I realized my arm, as well as that breech calf, was stuck!" Herschel chuckled. The small group, save for Daryl, laughed. He fought the urge to make some smart remark about the cow being the old man's wife...But he thought better of it. Such jokes, in recent days, he'd begun to try to steer clear of making. Hershel and his family had suffered loss. He understood it and empathized. Merle was still missing. Probably dead. Probably a fucking Geek, now. A rotting, stinking Geek.

"...You okay with that Daryl?" It was Rick's turn to break the other man's deep thought.

"Hnm?" Daryl brought his aimless gaze over to meet Rick's.

"I said, as much as I don't want to do it, we're gunna need to start preparing for the winter. Need supplies. See if we can't find us some more provisions. Maybe some heavier clothing for the cold weather...I was thinking you, me, n' Glenn go scavenge up the road. In town. Find some houses maybe."

"...Yeah. Whatever. Ain't like I got someplace to be." he drawled as he reached for a fresh biscuit that had just come out of the oven.

"Rick," Lori interjected, "We talked about this. I don't want you going back out there. We've got plenty of-".

"Barney Fife's right, lady. We ain't gunna have plenty'a nothin' come winter. 'Specially with your pregnant ass eatin' for two. We should make these runs while we can...While the days are long. And before anyone else decides to go an' do sumthin' dumb & end up Geek meat. "the redneck lectured as he picked at the bread.

Lori gaped and then sighed in frustration. "Fine."

Rick nodded, silently thanking him for his cooperation. "Good. Alright, then...We should leave soon. Don't want to waste too much daylight."

"There's an old gun shop in town," Hershel began. A haunted tone crept over his words like a fog, "Maybe you should stop in there and check things out. Everything probably got looted when things started to get crazy, but it's better to be sure."

"Right." Rick replied.

Daryl grabbed a second biscuit and turned to stroll slowly out of the kitchen. "All you ladies go 'n make up your grocery list. But I'll be damned if I'm gettin' my ass bitten over a box'a tampons."

The three men had managed to get into town and scavenge a few houses without incident. It was quiet; one would almost dare to say "peaceful", had this been a time before the current state of the world. Instead, the hush over the town's landscape was sinister…lifeless.

Rick, Daryl, and Glenn had worked their way cautiously from a residential area, back to the truck to make a drop of what they'd already picked from the abandoned homes, and then up the street to what used to be the main drag. Abandoned shops lined the street and refuse blew past their feet in the lazy, summer breeze. Rick led the way, slowly, up onto the porch of the gun store. It was right where Hershel said it would be. The windows were barred, but most of the glass behind it was smashed. Dried blood that seemed to have been there since the population began to turn on their own kind stained the wooden walkway beneath their feet. Rick cautiously pulled opened the broken door and peered inside. No walkers...No walking ones, anyway.

A rotting corpse lay motionless on the floor, but its flesh wasn't torn away or cannibalized by other walkers. Rick stood over it gun pointed directly at the back of its head and motioned for Glenn to check if it was dead. Glenn cautiously poked at the carcass with his foot. Then nudged. "I don't see a bullet wou-".

Daryl, in one swift motion, lifted his boot clad foot and stomped upon its head. Putrefaction squeezed from the rotting body spread across the floor.

"Jus' makin' sure." Daryl grumbled as he walked past Rick and Glenn. "No pussy footin' around anymore."

"Ugh." Glenn groaned. "That's one of the worst smelling ones I've been around in a while."

Daryl began looking through drawers and shelves behind the counter. "They all smell that way." he began, "You jus' haven't been that close t'one in a while, man...Safe and sound on yer girlfriend's little farm. They all smell like a hot pile of dog shit."

"Glenn, keep a look out. Don't want to get ambushed in here." Rick suggested. Glenn stepped back over the corpse and took up a spot against the door jam.

A few silent seconds went by as the other two men searched through the store. They weren't finding much. Herschel had been right to guess that it had mostly been cleaned out. A few stray bullets here and there. A box or two of shot gun shells. All none the less precious. Rick made his way carefully into the back stock room. Daryl reached the last cupboard behind the counter and let out a frustrated sigh and closed it roughly after collecting the last couple wayward rounds that had been left behind. "Not much left in here, man."

Just then Rick, chuckling, called out from the back. "Daryl, you might want to get in here!"

Daryl and Glenn both paused and exchanged confused glances for a second before Daryl went to follow Rick into the stock room, crossbow at the ready. He rounded the corner and saw Rick standing, with a smug look pointing to something.

"What the hell you so happy abo-", Daryl paused, taken aback by what he was looking at. A small smile spread across his face as he moved towards a dark back corner of the room. He sauntered over and knelt down to inspect Rick's find.

He whistled. "Well boys, looks like Santa Claus showed up a couple months early, this year!" He dusted off the top of one of the boxes and inspected it further. "Those dumbasses came in and took all the guns but didn't even look at this! Stupid sum'bitches!" In front of him were about ten boxes of arrows, a new belt quiver, and a brand new crossbow. He slung his old one over his shoulder and pulled the new one from its case to check it over.

Not broken. All the parts were there. It had definitely been there for a good, long while, though. It was an older model. Maybe twenty years old, but it was still a great find. He glanced back over to the boxes. "Man, there's even bolts here. Ain't no body uses these things anymore...They'll be good in a pinch, though." He put what arrows he could in his bag and then called back to Glenn. "Hey, Short Round! I need your bag!" Rick went to go trade off positions with Glenn.

"What did you guys find?" he said hopefully as he met Daryl.

"A shit-ton'a arrows. Crossbow...For me." he said smugly as he tossed a few boxes of the arrows at Glenn. "Put these in there." Glenn stashed the boxes in his pack as Daryl hooked the new quiver to his other leg and filled it with five new aluminum arrows.

Just as they had finished stashing all the newly acquired weaponry, Rick called quietly but urgently to them. They rushed back to the storefront.

"I just heard something. Sounded like a scream. I don't know what direction it came from." Rick whispered.

The trio fell into a tense hush as they listened for the scream again. A few silent seconds went by and they heard it again.

Daryl's keen ear was able to figure out what it was. "That ain't no scream," he began, "That's a horse whinny." Glenn let out a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed a bit against the blood smeared wall.

"You sure?" Rick asked as he scanned the desolate street for walkers.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Stupid animal's ringin' the goddamn dinner bell for every Geek in earshot, too. We bes' move 'fore they make their way through."

With that, Rick and Glenn both nodded in agreement and set in motion their retreat back down the block to the truck they'd come in.

They crept through the abandoned street along the sides of the old buildings until they were about a block away from the truck.

"I'd say this was a pretty successful outing." the ever optimistic Glenn, who walked between the other two, piped up. The superstitious redneck turned and quickly slapped the back of the younger man's head. "What's wrong with you, Hong Kong Phooey? Why you gotta go 'n' jinx us like that? We got a block 'n' a half to go!"

Frustrated, Glenn came back at Daryl. "Man, when are you gunna let up on the Asian jokes?"

"A cold day in Hell." he laughed wryly as he watched the direction they'd come from.

"Will you two knock it off?" Rick snapped quietly as they came to the last alley way before they were home free. He peered around the corner into the gap between the buildings and saw three of the undead walkers milling about, soundlessly. He turned back to the other two, motioned for them to be quiet and raised three fingers, then pointed back to the alley. Daryl nudged Glenn roughly and gave him a stern look as if to say, 'See! You did jinx us!'

"Count'a three we make a run for it. If we do this quietly, they won't see us and we won't have to waste ammo." Rick whispered. He looked at the other two men to make sure they were all on the same page and then checked the alley way once more before giving the signal to run.

They took off and made a run for it. Rick and Glenn made it past the alley, but just as Daryl had made his final step in front of the narrow back street, a grey, gnarled arm reached from behind some trash cans and caught his right leg. A walker that Rick had not seen had been resting silently, just out of sight, behind the aluminum trash bins. The tug on his leg caused Daryl to trip and fall, face first, to the hot pavement and the walker moved from behind the cans clumsily, toppling one onto its side. The normally unshakable ruffian let out a pained and startled cry as the walker lurched forward and fell on top of him.

In life, she had been young, high school age. She had been someone's daughter. Now, the bite wounds that marred her face and neck, along with her complete lack of a nose would have made her almost unrecognizable to her loved ones. She hissed and growled like a wild animal as she pulled herself forward.

Glenn and Rick spun around to see what had happened and they both took aim at the decaying corpse. "Daryl!" Rick yelled.

Daryl grunted as he kicked at the encroaching predator furiously. Knowing that the commotion had alerted the other walkers in the alley, he attempted to reach for his crossbow with one arm as he struggled to hold the snarling walker at bay with the other. It had fallen just out of reach.

"SHOOT IT!" he cried to his friends. Rick and Glenn raised their weapons and tried to take aim.

"I don't have a clear shot!" Glenn exclaimed.

"Daryl, move!" Rick ordered.

The walker growled "TO WHERE?" he yelped, "TAKE THE SH-"

The walker fell still suddenly and the fetid air that had been in her lungs rushed out of her body. From out of the alley on the other side of the road, the horse they had heard earlier appeared and whinnied, loudly. The rider took aim again and fired soundlessly a second, third, and forth time. The sound of dead weight hitting the pavement could be heard just out of sight. Daryl grunted once more and hefted the limp cadaver off of him and scrambled out from underneath it before it decided to come after him again. "Fuck!" he uttered breathlessly, "Why didn't you assholes shoot?"

Glenn leaned forward, set his rifle down, and rested his hands on his knees. "Oh man.", he exclaimed. "...Dude there wasn't a clear shot!"

"Next time, you shoot! I'd rather go out that way than become Geek food waiting for your sorry asses to pull the trigger." Daryl gruffed as he rose to his feet and retrieved his crossbow.

The sound of the horse nickering brought Rick and Daryl's eyes to it. They stared at the rider incredulously. She was about thirty, maybe a bit younger. It was hard to tell what was underneath all the dirt. Her hair was long, black, and matted in some places. Her jeans, tshirt, and hooded sweatshirt were filthy and covered in dried blood. Over her hoodie she wore a chest gun holster that was just a bit too large to fit her frame. In it, a small handgun fitted with a suppressor. The other handgun matched and was still in her hand. She sat upon the horse glaring back at the men.

"Could ya jerks have been any friggen louder? Why don't ya get a damn megaphone and announce ya'selves next time? Ya might draw a better crowd." Her accent was heavy and garish. Not from anywhere around there. Not from the south, at all.

Taken aback by the woman's attitude, Rick paused to think of what to say before opening his mouth. "Uh. Thank you, miss. For helping our friend...We're sorry to have made such a ruckus. We were just passing through. About to leave."

"Good," she replied, "Last two idiots I let hang around were not'in but trouble." With that she turned the horse around and began to leave.

"Wait a second!" Daryl called, "That ain't your horse!...That's the sum'bitch that Herschel let me borrow and threw me last week! Hey wait!"

"Ya ain't taking my horse. I found her. She's mine now."

He jogged to catch up with her. "You find a horse in full tack wanderin' around 'n' just claim it to be yours? What kinda bullshit is that?"

She stopped the horse abruptly and glared down at Daryl and then back to Rick and Glenn. "Man, Are ya fucking slow? What the hell are you guys toting a retard around for? Are ya trying to get ya'selves killed? Look around, Jim Bob! I didn't exactly have the time go putting up "FOUND PONY" fliers...Besides; I doubt you've been going door to door asking to borrow stuff from people lately, either."

Daryl bristled. "Fuck you, bitch!"

Glenn and Rick stifled their laughter. The hotheaded hunter turned and shot them another glare. She turned to leave once again.

"Now wait!" Rick called to her, his voice shaking off the laughter and filling with concern, "You got a family? Or a group to go back to?"

She stopped the horse yet again. Annoyance filling her voice she replied, "No. Like I just said, last two guys I fell in with were trouble and ended up getting themselves killed. I got me. That's enough to look after anymore."

"You're all alone?" Glenn asked. The sadness and disbelief in his voice was audible. His mind immediately went to Maggie. He'd want someone to take her in if they ever got separated. Or if the unthinkable happened.

"Rick, man, we can't leave her here. She's got nobody."

"You ain't seriously considerin' bringin' this uppity bitch back with us? Man, ya'll have lost your damn minds!" Daryl protested.

"Really. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested." the young woman laughed derisively.

"Now listen," Rick started, "Glenn here is right. It wouldn't be right leaving a woman all alone out here. You should come with us back to our camp a few miles out. There's safety in numbers. We've got a decent sized group; women and children, a good supply of food and water, and a safer location outside of town. And honestly, we could always use someone else who's a good shot."

She looked at him, brow furrowed, considering what he'd said for a moment.

"Besides," he continued, "You DO have our friend's horse."

"How do I know ya not lying?" she asked defensively. "How do I know ya not gunna...Gang up on me or something?"

Daryl scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, sister."

"Ya wish I was ya sister, ya backwater douchebag. Then ya might know what to do with me if ya ever managed to get ya hands on me.", she mocked.

"Man, I LIKE you!" Glenn said happily.

"You bes' shut UP, Kim-Chi!" he shouted back as he stormed over to him. Glenn cowered.

"Okay, enough. Enough!" Rick snapped as he put himself between the two. "We need to get off the street. I'm sure some other walkers heard what happened a minute ago and they're headed this way, albeit slowly. Are you gunna come with us?"

She thought about it again for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. But if you guys pull anything, or try to steal my shit, I WILL kill ya."

"Yeah. Right." Daryl muttered as he hopped in the bed of the pickup.

"You got some place where you've been holed up close by? We can go grab your stuff and then head out." Rick suggested.

"Yeah," she said, "Two blocks over. Follow us."