Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ

Once he's in the woods, the restlessness vanishes. Leaving Lucas feeling strangely calm.

He marks the trees every now and then, feels better knowing there's a low chance of getting lost with them there. And he's no experienced hunter, but the horse's hooves make pretty deep imprints on the dirt.

Half an hour into his lonely trail, he's staring at the beautiful, brown horse Daryl had borrowed - well, stolen, really. She's without her rider, and trotting slowly along the path. Unsure of how to approach, Lucas tucks his knife away. He smacks his lips together to get its attention and gently reaches his hand out until the soft fur nudges against his fingers.

Lucas smiles.

The joy is quickly replaced with a coldness down his limbs.

Where was Daryl?

Grabbing the horses lead, Lucas wraps it around his hand and starts walking.

"Find anything interesting out here?" He asks the horse, destroying the silence. He spends most of his time searching for Daryl making useless conversation. The horse can't exactly tell him to shut up - so he takes the opportunity to talk without a filter in stride. "I hope you didn't inadvertently kill him. I don't know how I'd go back to the others if that happened. You know, I don't think I would. Does that make me a bad person?"

Lucas is hoping Daryl happens to be in the area and finds them instead. Because he doesn't have a clue where to start.

It isn't until ten minutes later that his hopes come true.

In the most difficult way ever.

Something moves out of the corner of his eye, and it's fast because Lucas feels the large branch hit him in the side before he sees it.

He slams into the ground with a pained yell and the horse panics.

It bolts, hooves kicking at the dirt.

He'd be worried that he failed Hershel, but to be honest, he's more concerned about the fiery pain of his ribs and the wind that was knocked right out of him.

Wheezing, Lucas clutches at the area, blinks open his eyes, and thankfully, sees the next hit before it comes down against his head.

He rolls away, scrambling onto his knees to look up.

"Daryl!" He throws his hands up frantically.

Blinking a few times as though he's in a daze, Daryl slowly lowers his impromptu weapon. "Shit." He narrows his eyes, swaying slightly on his feet. "Who the hell are you again?"

Lucas deadpans, "Wow. Does wonders for my confidence." He wheezes, groaning in his hunched position. "You know, not like we were stuck in the same car for almost two days straight or anything."

Daryl looks bad.

In better terms, he looks like shit.

He's covered in dirt, missing the flannel he left with - though he notices that it's wrapped around a bleeding wound in his side - and he's got -

Ears? Tied to a string around his neck like it's the new fashion statement of 2010.

"Lucas. Remember?" He further reminds him, squinting at the man.

"Thought you were a walker," Daryl explains, wincing when he takes an aborted step forward. "Dumbass."

Lucas scoffs, but the laugh makes his ribs spasm, and a fresh bout of pain follows. He holds up a finger, gesturing to give me a second. Then, "Figured." He says, uncurling until he's pushed himself up onto his feet.

He glances in the direction the horse went. Back the way they came, hopefully towards the farm. "You scared the horse away." Lucas dumbly points.

"'what it gets for throwing me off. Damn thing almost killed me." Breathing hard, Daryl pauses to take another glance at him. "The hell ya doing out 'ere?"

"Could ask you the same thing. Thought you were looking for Sophia?"

Daryl's whole mood drops into something dark. He glares at him, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I was. Got a little sidetracked." He snarks, "'least I'm fucking tryin'." And he shoves past Lucas.

The way he wobbles and clutches at his side betrays his tough performance.

"What do you think I'm doing out here? I'm not a dog, alright? Just because they want me at the farm doesn't mean I gotta obey. I'm prepared this time." Lucas follows closely behind, gesturing to his gear.

Daryl remains quiet, and it's like Lucas is alone with the horse again, so he continues talking.

"I don't think you guys realize that I was traveling alone before I joined you. I ain't gonna screw up again. I know what I'm doing."

It was just a one-off mistake. Or am I just trying to make myself feel better?

"Screw up?" Daryl scoffs, glancing back at him with squinted eyes. His breathing is getting harsher.

Lucas scowls, "Sophia." He adds, "The creek."

Jesus, he really is out of it. He glances at Daryl's head wound, then at the cloth tied tightly around a bleeding waist.

He has to check if it's a bite. He doesn't want to.

"You were tryin' to find the girl."

"I screwed up." Lucas says like it's a fact, "When you looked for her, you were lookin' for me too. You didn't need to, but you did, and that meant less focus on Sophia."

Daryl stutters in his walk, and the movement causes him to wince when he fully turns around, glaring at him. "Does it matter?" He tugs something from his belt, grunting, "I found her doll. She ain't far."

Opposite to the frosty cold feeling that hits him every time Sophia is mentioned, the warmth that spreads through his limbs is encouraging and very much welcome.

Lucas catches the doll tossed over and brushes a hand through its dirty tangles. He glances at Daryl, "Fucking legend." He laughs in pleasant surprise through the words.

Daryl's brows furrow and he shuffles lightly on his feet. Then, "Shut it, Merle." He snaps at the thin air to his right.

Lucas bites his tongue, glancing cautiously.

There's nothing there.