Author's Notes: Why hello! Thanks for bearing with. I've beaten back some writer's block to bring you this (new episodes have certainly helped!). I had meant for this one to end on a cliffhanger, but I find that going for thirteen chapters instead, and letting this end on a sweet, if very foreshadow-y note worked better. Thanks for all the encouragement, it ALWAYS helps.

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And have you been through the sea, on the night.
Hold me tight. Babe, we've got it...

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There's cornbread with dinner that night, as there is with most every meal now, and new, appreciative house guests with which to share it makes them all just as appreciative again. Beth thinks it's some funny tick from the old world that's never left them; that even after seven years without much variety to their diets, they can get bone-weary of something. Ever the optimist, she takes it as a good sign. Hell, she'd been the one to grind the stuff, she's tired of cornmeal-based foods too.

But that is winter, had always been winter. Sameness, canned flavors, being thankful for even the food that just begins to feel like a chewing exercise.

As soon as everyone finishes their meals and moves into the warm, lively conversation that always follows dinner in a world without much entertainment, Marcia springs up to help Tamika and Glenn with the dishes. The girl is still very weak, thin, but she waves off any protests, "It's the least I can do. And if we're going to stay..."

"We're not troubling them for long, Marcie." Marco tells her gently, but Beth only smiles, shaking her head.

"We'll see," She maintains, glancing Daryl's way, and then Maggie's. She knew that over the course of the day and the last evening, their household had become progressively less all right about just sending the little family on their way after a few meals. Especially after the nugget of information Simon had shared, regarding the feed store. If they could keep their herd fat and happy, they'd be able to keep more mouths around. More strong arms around were always welcomed, and those girls were just children...

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Daryl has the first watch after dinner, but after that they've the whole night to themselves. Beth tries not to let on her giddy nerves as she helps tidy and lock down the house for the night, but it's kind of pointless. Privacy only means so much among a dozen people sharing a living space. At least everyone has the grace not to comment, beyond Maggie's knowing grin and Judith's terribly innocent exclamation before bedtime, that she was "SOOO glad Daryl aint sleepin' alone no more. It's dangerous!"

Beth tucks her girl in with Daisy and Marcie once more, pleased with how distracted and...normal, Judith seemed, having gotten used to the idea of other children. Nothing wild or weird stirred in her gaze as she kissed Beth goodnight after their nightly reading from Laura Ingalls, leaping giggling into her big bed with the other little girl and the indulgent twelve year old.

The generators off, fires banked and the youngsters in bed, Beth calls her goodnights as she ascends the stairs through the floors of the house, not for the first time reminded of some cheesy old rerun of The Waltons as she does. She's not the only one, either.

"G'night Beth-Anne!" Carl calls, and she snorts.

"Night John-Boy, Night Tamika-Sue!"

"Y'folks are a hoot," She hears Marco call from below. Beth laughs as she pulls down the attic stairs.

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When Daryl joins her an hour or two later Beth is burrowed deep into their quilts, engrossed in her own well-worn book that she's been working on for the better part of a year. He chuckles as he kicks off his boots, sets his crossbow at the foot of the bed and pulls off his layers. "How long you been workin' on that thing, girl?" He asks, and Beth gives her beaten, bent copy of A Clash of Kings a rueful sigh.

"Takin' my time on purpose," She says, carefully tucking a needlepoint bookmark between the pages before setting it aside, "When everything happened, the author still had two books left to write, so..."

"That sucks," Daryl allows, dropping his jeans, and Beth feels her throat go dry, looking up at him as he tosses away his t-shirt, "Can always write yer own ending." That was downright whimsical of him, and Beth grins, reaching for him as he slides under the covers.

"Plan on it," She murmurs, tugging him down for kiss, which he gives her without the barest hint of reservation. The opposite, even, parting her lips and pressing her down into the pillows, groaning, grasping at her waist, her ribs. Like he can't ever get enough, now that it's happening, and she's much the same. They're like some bizarre version of newlyweds, the crazy notion passing through her head unbidden as she clutches at his hair, his back.

They were, though. Odd friendship, to awkward courtship, to reveling, starving, ecstatic connection. Beth slides her fingers over now-familiar scars, tracing angles and creases and loving the way he gasps into her mouth when her touch reaches the insides of his hip bones. "Yer so beautiful," He all but prays against her lips, kissing her again, rendering her boneless as he does.

"I wanna try somethin'," She tells him in a whisper, after he tugs her tanktop off and over her head. She grins when he just blinks down at her, his fingers stuttering still against her skin. It's his face for when she says or does something that blindsides him, and Beth knows it, taking advantage of his lust-blank head to roll over, push him back to the bed. She's halfway down his torso before Daryl regains his bearings, sliding a rough hand into her long hair as she trails kisses over his stomach.

"...Darlin', you don't have to-..."

"Course I don't," Beth smirks, biting her lip and tugging off his boxers, "I want to." He swallows, hard, grip tightening on her hair. She gets the notion that maybe Daryl's got it in his head that being a virgin for 23 years equals hesitancy, unfamiliarity...which is very much a wrong notion. It meant quite a few years of aching all over, of being hungry to dive in, to try.

He hisses out a curse to the ceiling at the first tentative stroke of her tongue, first just inside those sharp hipbones of his, and then along the swiftly hardening length of him. Her eyes flicker back up to his face as she takes his cock in hand, tasting the skin there, and when she grins up at him a guttural groan leaves his throat. That grin is downright triumphant, too, before she grows bolder with her hands, her mouth.

The long string of curses that leaves his mouth when her lips finally wrap around his cock, the way his hands can't decide what to do with themselves, it's more than worth the ache building in her jaw. There's a more persistent ache between her legs, and after a few more minutes, as if he knows both things through his haze, Daryl's abruptly tugging her away from her task and up to his mouth, kissing her hungrily, turning her over onto the bed.

"Gonna get me off too soon," He rumbles against her brow, his breathing heavy, fingers sliding between her thighs, over her clit, "And I like comin' here." Beth lets out a breathy giggle in turn, that dissolves into a keening noise as those fingers move. They're still crashing into each other, but they've found the pitch, and he can already ply her, fingering her up to orgasm in just a few moments. Daryl covers Beth's curses with his mouth, pushing inside of her.

Through the thunder roaring in her veins, Beth knows she surprises him again when she turns them back over, straddling him. He sits up to meet her though, still kissing her, as if he doesn't ever want to stop, doesn't ever want her to stop rocking down onto his cock the way she is. She's never felt quite so powerful as she does then, clutching his coming, wrecked frame to her chest.

"Was right t'be scared of lovin' you," He mumbles into her hair once they're under their covers once more, wrapped up close and warm. Beth grins, eying him over her shoulder. "Gonna kill me one'a these nights, darlin'."

"Think we both know," She replies, turning over in his arms to press kisses along his jaw, "There's way worse ways to go."

"Mhmm," He yawns, shutting his eyes, though his arm tightens around her possessively, and Beth's heart could just about burst, "All tangled with you, definitely my first choice."

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Dawn is frosty and blue outside the kitchen windows, a fresh layer of snow on the ground. Judith is up before her new-found peers as usual, but remains inside, scratching patterns into the frosty window panes, like in Mama's book. The fires aren't yet lit, so the girl is bundled up in Daryl's poncho against the early winter chill, and her nails draw out stars and flowers and swirls in the cold glass until it's too much. She stuffs her little fingers in her mouth to warm them back up.

While she tends her icy digits, the first full rays of sunshine shoot over the far-off treeline. Judith squints, and then grins when she spots Carl making his way back toward the house over the snowy fields and lawn. His rifle is slung over his shoulder, his head dipped into the first morning breezes, the brim of his father's hat hiding his face. Their rotating watches well-known now, Aunt Maggie is already up and leaving her and Glenn's apartment over the garage, patting Carl's arm and taking his rifle. As her big brother nears the backdoor Judith scurries down from the window and toward the counter, climbing up on a chair to grab two big coffee mugs.

"...Hey, sprout," Carl grins when he spots her, speaking low and softly. The house, at large, is still asleep. Judith smiles back, offering the mugs shyly. "Aint been up to have cocoa with me in a while."

"You've been busy bein' in love," Judith forgives him with the easy statement, letting her chuckling sibling take over the task of carefully portioning out their small hot chocolate stash. Judith's gaze drifts back to the window, sucking in a deep breath as a dark, far-off, loping shape slips along the treeline. The wolf moves away though, back into the trees, and not even Maggie notices.

"You're still my girl," Carl brings her back to the kitchen, to human thoughts, striking a match to light the range, "Don't need to stay away, Tamika loves y'too. I know though, s'weird, your big brother having a girlfriend..." The kettle set over the flames, he then moves to light the wood stove, setting his hat on the counter before he kneels to stack the wood, to kindle the twigs, finally glancing at her, spotting her expression. "...Y'all right, Judy?" He was the only one who got to call her that.

"...Yeah," She gulps, tucking her dark, short hair behind her ears, sitting down, gnawing on her bottom lip like some feral little thing, "I miss sayin' hi to the wolves." A wary look passes over her brother's face. But he doesn't scold right away, or start asking weird questions she doesn't understand, like Mama or Maggie always do. Not right away, at least.

"They're wild animals," He reminds her evenly, stuffing old newspapers in with the kindling, lighting it, "You know wild animals are dangerous."

"Not to me! ...Least, the wolves aren't," She thinks hard for a moment, suddenly remembering a conversation from what seems a long time ago, but wasn't, not really, "...What was my papa like, Carl? My blood-one?" His motions do become slower then, carefully closing the stove and adjusting the floo, rising, thinking.

"...Beth told me you'd been asking questions," He tells her softly, turning to face her, to ruffle her hair fondly, "He was tough, Judy. But...not like Daryl's tough, or Tyreese when he's gotta be...or my-...or me," He bites his lip, looking at her looking up at him with big, dark eyes. She doesn't know how much she already looks like their mother, and it makes Carl pluck her up, hold her close, speaking softer, into her dark curls. "He didn't know when t'stop bein' wild. Maybe he couldn't, I dunno. Y'know how it is already though, sis...y'know when the time is to wild, to fight, and when the time is to be still."

Judith shuts her eyes, clutching tight to his coat as the room grows warm. Yes, yes she did know. Carl and Daryl and Mama and Tyreese and Glenn and Maggie had all taught her.

So, maybe it wasn't so bad, that she was a wolf. As long as she was just a wolf sometimes.

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