The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

thirtyfour.

(Warning - smut.)

Daryl decided to take me on my lessons on tracking. For two days, he's been growing frustrated with my lack of progress. Every time I fail, I watch his face. Though, I realize he's trying to remain patient, its wearing pretty thin. I frown.

"Ya see those tracks?" He questions, pointing something among the leaves and dirt.

Crouching, I scrunch my face, not seeing a damned thing. I hang my head in defeat. "Let's just go back. This is a losing battle." If we ever get separated again, I'm fucked. How the fuck did I survive so long before meeting everyone? Luck. That's the only answer I can come up with.

"You're a suvivor, Ness." Kelly words storm into my mind. One night at the prison, I opened up about my months walking alone. "Even before the world got flipped upside down, you always found a way to keep one foot in front of the other. After Luna, your parents, the divorce, Owen. You never once waivered when you felt everything was stacked against you. You're one bitch that I can picture standing on the other side of this. Shit, you might outlive me."

"No. Hold on." He puts his hand up, motioning for me to be quiet, bringing his finger to his mouth. He gestures in front of us. My eyes follow his line of sight. "There's a home up ahead. Wanna see what we can find?" I nod, silently following him. I pull my swords out, in case one of the dead decide to crash the party.

A white two-story house comes into view. From the looks of it, it's been abandoned for at least a year. I'm sure it's been cleaned out by now but looking around to check wouldn't hurt.

Once we reach the door, I bang my fist against the wood. I lean against the frame of the open door, swinging the sword in my right hand, waiting. Daryl's blue eyes find me, as amusement dances behind them. The sounds of low moans and stumbling begin to advance on us.

I shake my head at the archer, "let me have some fun." He stands back, gesturing to go ahead. I smirk. Three walkers stumble into view. "Come to mama, uglies." I twirl both swords in my hands as I meet the dead halfway. I swing, crossing my arms in front of me, the blade meets its targets, cutting down two. Without moving, I jump up, kicking the third and final one in the face with my heel. I laugh as it falls. I fling the blood off my swords before returning them to their home. "I really need to get out more. Wait here, I'll clear." He understands, I can't risk getting rusty from being spoiled and safe behind the gates. In the corner of my eye, I spot him starting to drag the bodies out. I pull a knife out. I listen, not hearing any more moans. I silently stalk from room to room before I signal to Daryl that it's safe. He walks in, closing the door behind him.

I sit on the table as he rummages around the kitchen. I shrug out of my sword holder, setting it down next to me. I rub my shoulder. It's been throbbing under the weight I've been carrying.

"If ya ain't ready to head back. We can stay here one night. It's gettin' close to dark." He sets his kills and crossbow down on the kitchen table, watching me. His hands find my shoulders, rubbing the tension out of the muscle. "Ya carry a lot of weapons, it was only a matter of time before this happened."

"Sure." Allowing him to work his voodoo magic.

"What's wrong?"

"I just feel like I'm failing you. I'm trying. I learned combat and medical training fairly fast, but this.." I run a frustrated hand through my hair.