Future Ghosts • TWD

3. For the Better.

When Rosie woke up the next morning, her dad was, once again, gone. She felt frustrated and annoyed that he would go hunting without her, but she wouldn't dare let him know that. How was she supposed to get any better if she never went with him? She sighed and decided she'd just have to go on her own, and maybe she'd find her dad along the way.

Rosie sat up and climbed out of her sleeping bag. She slipped on her red cowboy boots and unzipped the tent, welcoming the slight breeze of the day. The tent was always really hot, basically cooking her in the hot Georgia sun.

When she stepped out of the tent, she wiped her sweaty, blonde mess of hair away from her face and looked around camp. As she suspected, her dad was nowhere to be found.

Since he went off in the woods behind the Dixons' camp the day before, Rosie figured that was where he would be. So, she tucked her slingshot into her waistband, checked to make sure that her pocket knife was still in her pocket- it was- and started walking over towards the Dixons' camp. When she reached it, she saw that Daryl was the only one there. She guessed that Merle was either still sleeping, or he had gone with her dad.

Wordlessly, Rosie walked past Daryl and towards the forest. She stopped in her tracks, though, when Daryl said her name.

"Rosie," he said in his rough, grumbly voice. Rosie was sure that he had never even spoken her name before. She turned around quickly, her eyebrows scrunched together. "Yer dad went huntin' with Merle."

"I know," Rosie said. She'd already figured that out on her own. She didn't need Daryl to tell her. She turned around again, continuing on into the forest. She didn't want to just sit on her ass all day, being useless.

"Wait," Daryl spoke again. Rosie turned around again, even more confused than before. Daryl stared at her for a second, and she stared back blankly. "Uh, c'mere an' help me with somethin'. Make yerself useful," he decided on saying.

Hesitantly, Rosie made her way over to where he was sitting and stood a few feet away. He was doing something with his arrows- or maybe bolts, Rosie still hadn't asked what the difference was just yet.

"With all the shit that's goin' on, I don't wanna run outta bolts," Daryl said, gesturing towards the small pile of bolts he had on the ground by his side.

"What's the difference?" Rosie finally asked.

"What?"

"Why's that a bolt an' not an arrow?"

"Oh," Daryl said, raising his eyebrows a little. He thought it would be a lot harder to distract her than it was. He held a bolt out to her and she hesitantly grabbed it, inspecting it in her hands. "Bolts are smaller than arrows. Nocks are different too."

"Nocks?" Rosie questioned, a curious expression on her face.

When Daryl reached forward to show her, she flinched a little, but thought she did a good job of hiding it. Daryl did notice though, and he didn't blame her either. You get used to every movement or touch being one with bad intentions, then you get used to trying to avoid them.

He took the bolt and flipped it around, showing her the non-pointy end. "Nock's what holds the string. It's different on an arrow."

"Oh," Rosie said quietly. She was more than grateful to understand now, but she wasn't sure how to show it. "So, the arrows are for bows like Robin Hood uses an' the bolts are for crossbows like you use?"

Daryl nodded and took the bolt back, putting it in his pile. Rosie watched silently for a moment, then suddenly remembered him calling her over for a reason other than knowing the difference between bolts and arrows.