Just the beginning..

Note: I do not own the walking dead at all,

I am writing a fan-fiction about Daryl and nothing else

By: ReedusLover3

I wasn't a nice person. When someone angered me, I get super pissed and tend to get defensive. Not a good trait, and I hated expressing my feelings. Instead I bottle them up. That's what I had to, what everyone had to do. Ever since the world went to shit I made sure to never rely on anyone. My family was killed by those parasites, zombies; luckily I had made it out alive. No scratches, no bites, nothing. I was accompanied by my compound bow and hunting knife.

I was a hunter. Raised in Louisiana down near the bayou with four older brothers who made me learn to hunt. I loved hunting, but actually having to kill those parasites made my stomach clench painfully. I got over it eventually. Now I was making my way through Georgia, trying to find some sort of help or human survivors.

The city was off limits since it was overrun by parasites, so I was taking the back roads in a stolen car I had hijacked. I was going fast- nearly eighty miles per hour- down the deserted road with my headphones in my ear, blasting some Skrillex. I mean come on, I wasn't going to get pulled over and no one else was around, so listening to music didn't matter. I was driving through the mountains and going around the bends and curves at a lethal speed. That's when I noticed a camp. The people stared at me as I passed by faster than light. I slowed down and did a fast U-turn, slamming on my brakes outside their camp entrance. They all jumped and the men grabbed their guns and weapons.

Taking one earbud out and preparing my compound bow, I stepped from the car.

"Who the hell are you?!" I heard a man ask me as I came into view.

"I'll be asking that same question to you, sir," I answered, their accents were very different sounding than mine. I was born in Boston, but moved to Louisiana at a young age. I had never really acquired the full on Southern accent, but I had a twinge of it in my voice.

"Name?"

"Elizabeth," I told them, my tone annoyed. "Yours?"

"Jim."

"Nice to meet you,Jim," I told him. "Now, mind telling me how ya'll survived all by yourselves up here?"

"That's for another time." Jim didn't lower his gun. "You scratched? Bitten?"

"Naw, I'd kill myself if I gotten bit or scratched," I answered honestly. "If ya'll don't believe me, you can see for yourself." The men lowered their weapons.

"That's fine. Where you headed?" Jim asked as he started to move closer, but a woman with long black hair stopped him.

"We can't trust her," she whispered to him.

"No worries ma'am, I'll be gone before ya'll know it," I told her and she nodded. "No-where in particular, just looking for some survivors like ya'll selfs."

"Seems like you found some. You can stay for a couple of days until you find it fit to leave." Said another man who was older, with white hair and a beard that matched.

"I don't wanna intrude, sir," I told him.

"No, no! You're welcome! Right everyone?" He turned to look at everyone who nodded except for the black haired woman and a man who had curly black hair and stubble lining his cheeks and chin. "See, join us. You can borrow a tent and maybe-"

"I'll sleep on the ground. Ain't no problem sir," I said.

"Now now, you will sleep in a tent. That ground is uncomfortable and you must be tired."

"I don't wanna take anyone elses' tent from them, sir. I appreciate it but the ground is good enough for me." The man gave a hesitant nod.

"Alright then." He sighed. "Name's Dale." I smiled. "Well, I will give you a tour." He walked towards an RV. "This here is mine, but I share it with everyone else. This carries all the supplies and such." We moved towards a bunch of tents in a lower section of the camp. "This is where everyone sleeps excluding myself. And that over there is where they hang the laundry, cook food and do other tasks." He pointed at a long wire attached to two trees, and pot hanging over a fire place. We walked through a small pathway of trees to an open pool of bright blue water which I concluded was an old quarry. "This is where we fish, wash clothes, and bathe." I smiled.

"It's beautiful," I stated. "I will sleep down here."

"You're not going to sleep near the others?" Dale asked, confused.

"Naw, I prefer to be alone."

"Like Daryl.."

"Who?" I asked.

"Daryl," Dale told me. "He's an outcast, keeps to himself and usually only talked to his brother Merle. Luckily he's gone now." Dale trailed off and started to walk back to camp. "He hunts a lot, and is usually gone for days on end trying to track what minuscule animals are left." I nodded. "Do you hunt?"

"All the time, I was taught at a young age to hunt." I looked around. "Would this Daryl character mind if I hunt with him?"

"I wouldn't try that, Elizabeth. He doesn't take kindly to people joining him on his hunts, and I'm sure he'd have a fit."

"I have to help out sir. Ya'll are kind enough of letting me stay here for a few days."

"Well, it's nearly time for dinner." I noticed we were already at the camp where people sat around the fire and stirred food around on their plates. "Not everyone is here."

"Where are they?" I asked.

"Rick, Glenn, and Daryl went back to the city to find Merle." I nodded and followed him and sat on a log in front of the fire. I was handed a plate and I knew that I would try and stay with this group for as long as they would let me.