Author's Note: Needed to get back into the swing of writing. I'm considering making this into a series, introducing Woodbury residents one by one, we shall see.

Daryl didn't pay so much attention to the newcomers. He answered questions when directed at him, put the food on the table. Tried to push back the worry that came with having to feed so many more people, most of whom couldn't even do anything to help and concentrate on getting the damned food in the first place.

Slowly, he started learning their names.

Monique, thirteen years old. Her only family, her dad, shot by the Governor. She'd taken to following Beth around and looking at him with wide eyes whenever she saw his string of game.

Matthew, probably one of the oldest Woodbury residents. Didn't stop his yapping, but it turned out his yapping was worth something, because he knew a shit ton about mechanics. That had been helpful.

But his favourite of the newcomers was Gerda. She wore her snow white hair in a ponytail and smiled at everyone. It helped that Judith loved her. She suffered with arthritis, like most of the old people, but unlike the others, she never breathed a word of complaint.

Daryl found nettle plants. Heard they helped with a bunch of stuff. Got stung to the elbows for them because there wasn't time to cut them properly. She'd watched him as he went to work on prepping them for her, smiling all the while. Then, later on, she'd silently handed him a tub of calamine lotion before heading back into the kitchen.

Yeah, he liked Gerda.

By the fall, squirrels were rife in the forest. Hadn't brought too many of them back, not when there had been deer and rabbit to take instead, but as they forests got quieter, they couldn't be picky.

Not that some of the Woodbury folks realised that. Daryl had been looking to hand the string of bushy tailed creatures to Carol, for her to cook them up before anyone saw them and got squeamish about what they were eating, but the woman in question was nowhere to be found.

She was doing a lot of that lately, disappearing. Daryl was used to finding her with the baby, or making meals. Not anymore. If he asked anyone where she was now, the answers he usually got mentioned perimeter walks and clearing out Walker-riddled cell blocks.

He had to push that worry back too, couldn't let it interfere with the things that had to get done. Carol was more than capable of doing those things and now there were other people to look after Judith, she had to do them.

So instead of Carol with her hands in a bowl of dishwater, there was Gerda.

"I'll just skin 'em for ya." He murmured to her, moving past her to the table but she lifted one soapy hand up to him.

"I can do it, darlin'." She smiled at him, waggled her fingers, indicating she wanted the string of game. She called everyone darling. From Hershel down to Judith, it was a name she gave to everyone. He'd even heard her call a damn Walker darling, once.

"Ya sure? S'kinda tough meat. Tastes better if you soak it in sugar and-"

"Brown sugar and soy sauce. I know. I've made it before." She plucked the string from his fingers and hooked it on the nail sticking out from a cupboard before turning back to the dishwater.

Daryl eyed her back sharply. That trick, that marinade, was a Dixon recipe. Only Carol knew how to make squirrel taste good and that was because he'd taught her.

He shifted from foot to foot and wondered if he should question her further. He didn't like having to ask questions. So he decided not to and stepped away.

"Your brother was good to me, you know."

Daryl stopped in the doorway and stared at her, but Gerda barely glanced over her shoulder as she spoke.

"He had his troubles, so he did, but Merle, he did some good things. Looked after us old folks pretty good." She shot him a smile then, dried her hands on a cloth.

"Merle was an ass. He deserved 99% of what he got." He told her gruffly.

Gerda smiled sadly. "No-one deserves what that man did." She shook her head, as if shaking the bad thoughts out. "He shocked me, that first time he brought us squirrels for dinner. I didn't have a clue what to do with them. But he taught me. Used to bring me books over from the library, so I didn't have to go out in the rain."

Daryl had to scoff at that. He doubted Merle had ever set foot in a library in his whole damn life.

"It's true!" Gerda laughed. "Noah, Karen's boy. Got asthma. I can't even tell you how many times Merle went out on his own looking for pumps for that child. All by himself. And every time, he came with some. Every time. Your brother might have been an ass, darling, but he was good boy really. He loved you. Used to talk about you all the time. I knew the minute I laid eyes on you, exactly who you were."

There was nothing to say to that. He wanted to believe the old woman's words. Needed to believe they weren't the words of a foolish old lady, hoodwinked by Merle's silver tongue. Because nobody else was thinking anything good about his big brother. Not even him.