Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ

Meanwhile, back at the Greene's farm.

Rick's approach to Hershel is quiet, footsteps naturally careful against the twigs and leaves. There's a question on his tongue, but the older man counters before he can even begin.

"One of my horses is missing. I believe one of your people snatched it up, though nobody would tell me who."

Rick tilts his head. "I was under the impression you knew about that."

"I did not."

"I'll have a word with Daryl."

"Your boy has already promised to search for my horse. I assume you didn't know about that either."

Rick's hands land firmly on his hips, brows furrowing deeper. "Carl?"

Hershel lifts his head, pausing in his pouring of the fuel. "No." He frowns, shaking his head. "The blonde boy."

Rick's eyes widen, and he almost laughs in surprise.

"He isn't -" he drops his head into his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose, "Damn it, Lucas."

Of course he'd take off.

Lucas was currently eyeing Daryl like he'd explode at any second.

"I need - " Lucas hesitates, pointing at Daryl's waist, "I need to check."

The crossbowman was arguing with his missing brother.

And as far as Lucas can remember, hallucinating was a common sign of the virus rushing through your veins.

A soft breeze aiding against the sun struggles through the trees, enough to nudge Daryl's fringe out of his narrowed eyes. He's glaring at Lucas.

Huffing and puffing, "I ain't bit." He says, continuing forward.

"Daryl."

Lucas glances through the trees before stepping in front him, hand held out.

"I dunno if you realise, man, but you ain't making much sense. I'm gonna need to check for a bite whether you like it or not."

Daryl simply whacks his hand to the side, shrugging him off, and bumps his way past. "Didn't ya hear me the first time? It ain't a bite, so leave me be."

Teeth clicking audibly together, Lucas turns around to follow. A hand darts out, fingers slipping around Daryl's dirty arm and tugging.

Daryl rips away and -

Promptly keels over, clutching at his side with a barely held back groan.

Lucas jolts a step back, holding his breath.

"Shit." Daryl rasps, using the tree to slide himself to the dirt.

Lucas physically relaxes. He moves slowly to the ground, slaps the man's hand away from the wound and tugs his shirt up just that small distance.

He prepares for the worst. Begging that he doesn't have to put any more people down.

With a long, relieved breath, "Fuck." Lucas says, lighthearted, "Next time just tell me what happened instead of acting like an ass about it. I thought you were bit."

"Your fault for giving a shit." Daryl pants, shoving Lucas away.

He takes the weak push easily and sits back on his heels, waiting for the other man to regain his composure.

"Horse kicked me off. Arrow went right through m'side."

Lucas tries. He tries real hard not to laugh, lips twisting and a lift to his brows.