Disclaimer: The Walking Dead and its characters and plots are the property of their respective creators. Original characters are all owned by me.

Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. Yeah, it's been like a year but I've been reading Winter's Bone (whose main character was the inspiration for Maddie Grace after I watched the movie) and it sparked me into piecing together this new chapter (finally). It isn't anything amazing, but I guess it's better than nothing, and I'm really very pleased to just be writing this story again. Hope you all enjoy!

Daryl could hear the whispered murmurs through the walls. Biting his lip, he glanced back to the four-poster bed where Maddie Grace was curled up in one of her father's left-behind shirts—a black button down. Daryl remembered it being a size too big for his brother. It swallowed Maddie's slender frame whole.

Though Dixons were not quite sentimental, Daryl had kept a few of Merle's things. They were all gathered up in a separate rucksack that his brother had neglected to take to Atlanta and Daryl had not touched them since he'd packed them up. He'd nearly forgotten about them until Maddie Grace turned up and he'd had to root through all the things shoved into a corner of his tent to find the bag he and Merle had kept for her. Merle's things were right on top of it, and Daryl had handed it over, too.

That bag was now slumped in the corner of the room. The only things Maddie had taken from it so far were the shirt that hung loose about her limbs and his brother's old dog tags from his brief stint with the Marines. He could see the glint of their chain around her neck as she slept; the tags clinked together as she shifted on the mattress. After a rather long talk about what had happened to her father, Daryl had convinced Maddie Grace to let Hershel look her over. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, he'd gave her a clean bill of health and showed here where the bathroom was so that she might clean up a bit. Her dark hair, still damp from the shower, was now fanned out over the pillow.

"That girl's been through a lot," Hershel said with a sad look in his eyes that made Daryl want to strike him. He settled for a scowl and a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits to remove the temptation to curl them into fists. "Let her rest. She can take a bed for a night. Proper sleep in a proper bed, that'll do her some good."

He'd then left them alone, and so had all the others, and Daryl had sat beside his niece on a mattress softer than either of them had ever known. Maddie Grace spent a long while sitting in silence, her arm touching Daryl's, her eyes downcast as she traced her daddy's name on the tag around her neck.

"Lay down, at least," Daryl had told her and Maddie had shrugged.

"M'okay," she said, though she didn't sound it.

"Y'got a bed for a night, girl. Might as well take advantage." She finally met his eyes then and he tried to see past their mournful hue. There they were, together again after weeks, and yet neither felt whole. There was still a piece missing; the most vital piece of all. Eventually she'd shrugged again and yawned and stretched along the mattress. She didn't, or wouldn't, crawl under the covers but instead tugged her daddy's oversized shirt tighter about her middle. She was asleep in minutes.

The room was quiet save for the sound of Maddie Grace's deep breathing and Daryl had taken up pacing to pass the time. Pacing and listening, hunter's ears peaked as he tried to pick words out of the hushed conversation in the living room. He knew there would be questions; endless questions that he didn't want to answer, that Merle wouldn't want him to answer, and he was not yet prepared to face them. He could already feel the heat of their stares.

Finally, with a heavy breath, Daryl eased open the door. As the hinges squeaked he heard a gasp on the other side and had to force himself not to jump in surprise as Carol came into view. Pink flooded her cheeks as she looked up at Daryl; for a brief moment, her eyes flickered past him, but they soon settled on his again.

"Sophia's asleep, too," she said eventually. Her tone was hushed. Daryl glanced back at Maddie as though confirming that she was really, truly there and then he stepped into the hall and tugged the door shut behind him. "Poor thing's exhausted."

"M'glad you got 'er back," Daryl said, and he meant it, and a thousand-watt smile lit up Carol's face. She nodded, hugging her arms to herself, glancing down the hall to the room that Hershel had offered for Sophia. She was still beaming when she turned back to Daryl.

"I'm glad for you, too," she said, nodding towards Maddie's door. She opened her mouth like she was going to say more but then snapped it shut, her hand fluttering over her lips as if to hold in the words. Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he asked. Carol shook her head and shifted her weight from foot to foot. She let a huge breath out of her lungs and the question simply slipped out with it.

"Why did you never say anything?" she asked. Daryl was sure that was the question on everybody's minds. Why hadn't he said anything? He looked down at the floor, scuffed the toe of his boot against the hardwood beneath his feet.

"Merle didn't want nobody knowin' is all. We weren't too sure how long we were stickin' 'round, and besides, she was ours to worry 'bout, not nobody elses'. Our blood. Our kin." Carol didn't say anything. She just sort of gave a little hum that Daryl thought sounded like understanding. It was enough to draw his eyes back up to hers.

"Sophia wouldn't stop talkin' about her," she said evenly. Her lips still had that smile dancing over them, the smile that hadn't left since she'd seen her daughter running across the highway. "Your girl made quite an impression."

"She's Merle's," Daryl corrected, and then he sighed. "Seems sorta funny, don't it? Those two endin' up together."

"Suppose it does," Carol said. A silence settled over them then, heavy like a winter blanket, and Daryl renewed his interest in the floor. Carol let out another heavy breath before she finally said, "I'm starving." Daryl grunted. Carol chewed at her lip before continuing, "What d'ya say we go and see what we've got to eat? Maybe we can set something aside for the girls, too. I'm sure they're as famished as they are tired."

Daryl would have said no simply because going to get something to eat meant venturing deeper into the house which meant stumbling upon the group that were whispering so fervently about him. The gossip he'd heard through the walls, even if he couldn't make out the words, burned his ears. He could have argue that Maddie Grace had surely hunted for herself and Sophia, but he knew that scrounging up scraps in the wood was nothing compared to the wealth of nourishment the Greenes had stocked up. He nodded and followed Carol down the hall. When they reached the sitting room, a half dozen pairs of eyes turned up to bore holes right through him.

Merle swayed, uneasy on his feet. His vision spun before him, the whole world blurring into blues and oranges and browns. There was gravel stuck in the skin of his palm and poking up and down his arms. The chafing of his makeshift prosthetic was nothing compared to the throbbing of his swollen ankle or the bruising around his knee.

He swallowed and tasted blood. When he spat a thick wad of crimson splattered against the dirt. He ran his tongue over his lip to find a sliver of it bleeding at the corner. Every ache and pain that had been slowly ebbing away over the past few days flared up; agony sparked along his bones and snaked through every muscle. A few times he'd stumbled and fallen into the dirt and the thick crowd gathered around him would scream and whoop and cheer.

It felt like a fucking schoolyard fight, only instead of teachers swooping in and shouting for it all to end there were walkers on chains snarling and snapping at anyone who got too close. Merle's opponent, some Hispanic guy called Martinez, was clapping and raising his arms and hyping up a crowd that downright adored him. Merle was on the ground on knee, bent over and breathing heavily and trying to figure out exactly how he'd wound up here.

He snarled as Martinez circled around him grinning and whooping like a victorious prize fighter. He swung out an arm, catching Martinez's legs and sweeping them out from under him. The man gasped as he fell hard on his ass, eyes open wide like a confused kid's before he shook his head and lunged at Merle.

Merle ducked, let Martinez's punch arc over his head before striking his opponent in the gut. The mood turning, all the triumphant cheers turning sour as the wind blew from Martinez's lungs. He staggered backwards and Merle could hear several encouraging shouts for him to get up, to stay strong, to win. His ears rang with their cries. It all grated on his nerves.

Merle stood to his full height even though it hurt and he growled as he shoved his boot against Martinez's middle. Again, the other stumbled backwards, his heels dragging along the dirt. A chorus of booing erupted among the spectators.

A leashed walker idling on the outer ring of the arena snapped its head up to the wounded Martinez. It sniffed the air like a hound on the hunt and reached out its arms. Martinez seemed to be trying to move away from it, so Merle took the opportunity to jostle him towards the hungry corpse. That's when he saw it. As the mouth snapped open and closed, greedy for food, Merle saw only rotten gums. There were no teeth; nothing to bite with, nothing to kill with.

With this new discovery, Merle shoved Martinez aside, thoroughly bored with him, and he plowed into the gaunt dead man. His fist alone tore the leathery flesh at its chest and he heard bones snap and crack beneath his knuckles. The thing howled and strained against its bonds. Merle could hear confusion among the crowd, could feel them all shifting and hear them murmuring each other as he grabbed the thing by its thinning, stringy hair and slammed his knee into its nose. The cartilage, already half wasted away, shattered and its whole face caved in around his kneecap.

A hush had fallen over Woodbury. Merle hardly noticed. He threw the geek to the gravel. A string of gurgling noises trailed from its rotten tongue as its thin, bony arms clawed at the ground. Merle swore and struck the back of its head with the heel of his boot. Blood and brains splashed and splattered onto the dirt and onto his shoes. Thick, black sludge pooled beneath its broken skull and with a harsh growl Merle stomped on the remains. And he stomped again. And again. And again.

Martinez stood as if in a stupor, watching the scene unfold until the audience picked up their interest again. They all start shouting together once more and Martinez blinked out of his stunned state and grabbed Merle by the back of the shirt.

Merle whirled on him, swinging his fist, but missed by centimeters and while he was recovering and coming back to his senses Martinez slammed his forehead into Merle's. Merle fell hard to the ground. He tried to crawl onto hands and knees, preparing to push himself back up, but Martinez struck him on the back of the head.

His vision blurred at the edges. His whole world was fuzzy and distorted, shapes and colors and sounds forming a mass of confusion until it all went black.

At the front of the crowd, standing below the bleachers that had been dragged out for the event, Milton folded his arms neatly over his chest and turned to the Governor. He raised a brow in question, gesturing with his head towards the fallen man.

"He isn't up to his full strength yet," Milton said eventually. "And he's learning how to live one-handed."

Philip hummed in thought. His eyes never left Merle as Shumpert crossed the area to retrieve him. Shump paused to clap Martinez on the shoulder and then he bent down and hefted up Merle. Martinez pumped his fist in the air and the crowd roared their favor as Shump carted the defeated away.

"There's certainly potential," Milton went on. Philip hummed again.

"There certainly is."

Maddie Grace wasn't sure how long she'd slept. She knew that the sun was still peeking over the horizon before she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again and peered out the window the sky was dark. She sat up against the wooden headboard, yawning as she stretched. All of her bones popped into place. She scrubbed the sleep from her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

The floor was cold even through her socks and Maddie couldn't keep from shivering as she crossed the room. It took a few tries but she forced the window open, pushed the screen aside, and leaned out to breathe in the cooling air. Stars twinkled like jewels overhead and she traced them just the way her daddy had taught her, spotting as many pictures in the sky as she could, all the while remembering those summer nights sitting on the porch in her daddy's lap and listening to her tell him all the stories of those figures shaped by stars. She'd asked him once where he'd learned them all, as she knew her daddy wasn't one for schoolbooks and exams.

"My mama always took a likin' to 'em," he'd explained. She followed his finger as he pointed at the shining North Star, then grabbed his hand and helped him trace the Ursa Minor. Now she stretched her arm out of the open window, her daddy's oversized shirt drooping from her arm, and she traced those stars herself.

Maddie Grace jumped when the door swung open. Her arm snapped to her side like she'd been burned and she spun around only to relax when she saw that it was just Uncle Daryl. He offered her a small grin.

"Stars again?" he asked.

"Ain't seen 'em so clear since home," Maddie explained. Absently, she touched her fingers to the dog tags dangling about her neck. Daryl either didn't see or pretended not to notice.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Not so much," she said with a shrug.

"You lyin'?" Daryl pressed.

"Could be," she replied. Daryl set a small plate on the bedside table and settled onto the mattress.

"Chicken's fresh, plus Maggie boiled some things from the garden. It ain't too hot no more, but food's food." Maddie Grace inched closer. The food did smell good, really good, and her stomach rumbled at the mere thought of home-cooking. She picked up the plate, sat beside her uncle, balanced the ceramic dish on her knees.

"You were never the type t'go acceptin' favors," Maddie Grace observed.

"You should eat," Daryl said, avoiding the underlying accusation.

"These people…you seem real comfortable 'round 'em." Maddie Grace plucked a green bean off her plate and chewed at the end. "As comfortable as you can be, I guess. Sophia, she talked a lot about 'er group when we were on the road, but she never mentioned no names."

"Carol said she took a real likin' to ya," Daryl mused.

"Carol's 'er ma, right?" Maddie asked. Daryl nodded and Maddie hummed and swallowed the rest of the green bean. She poked at the little lump of veggies stacked onto her plate and swiped up another. "She seems nice," the girl mused. "These people, this group….they don't seem so bad."

"They ain't," Daryl agreed.

"Don't see Daddy likin' 'em much," Maddie mused.

"He didn't," Daryl said. Maddie Grace laughed a little and when she caught Daryl's eye he laughed, too. Maddie Grace started picking apart the piece of chicken, popping small bites into her mouth as they sat in silence together. The meat was almost gone by the time she'd decided she'd had enough and she reached over to set the mostly-emptied plate back onto the night table. "They're all real curious about ya," Daryl told her. Maddie's eyes snapped to meet his.

"Bout me?"

"Your daddy, he made an impression," Daryl explained.

"That's what he's good at," Maddie agreed.

"Anyway, I guess they're just all shocked. We didn't say nothin' about you to 'em."

"Why not?"

"You know your Daddy."

"Guess I do." Maddie hummed, her thumb running along the raised letters of Merle's name on the dog tags. She clenched them tight in her fist, so tight she could feel the edges digging into her soft palm.

"Anyway, they're all just shocked, I think. But I think maybe you should go on and meet 'em."

"Why? We stickin' 'round long?"

"Could be." Daryl shrugged. Maddie Grace eyed him carefully.

"How we gonna look for Daddy if we're sittin' pretty playin' house on some uppity farm?" she asked. Daryl shook his head.

"I was plannin' on a hunt," he said evenly, changing the subject. Maddie Grace was reluctant to follow this new course. She stayed quiet, waiting to see what else he might say. "Chickens ain't gonna feed everyone fer long, y'know? We could go on out. Bring back a deer, show 'em what good eatin's really about."

"Ain't a bad idea," Maddie agreed, because she knew what Daryl was really saying. Going back into the woods meant some time away from the prying eyes and ears and her uncle's little group. Going back into the woods meant something familiar to them both, hunting side-by-side in the thick underbrush, creeping along and signaling with gestures and bird calls until they could drag back their prey.

"There's a lot'a tension 'round here lately," Daryl went on. "It'll be good to get away from these folks a while."

"S'pose we can look fer Daddy along the way," Maddie Grace concluded. Daryl nodded.

"S'pose we can."