Triggerfinger ➳ Daryl Dixon

s i x

Thank you so so much you guys for being so patient with me. A lot of you have been asking for an update, and I do indeed see those comments and want to rush through an update every time I see one of those. However, sometimes, my muse to write is just a pitiful puddle of ice cream that was melted because you dropped it and now you're crying beside the puddle of ice cream.

I had a chapter written out, but I lost it. Yes, I could have cried.

Thank you for every ounce of support, so please enjoy this chapter.

Presley pressed her hand flush against the ground. She'd been studying the tracks for ten minutes now. She clenched her fist angrily, glaring at the direction he'd been taken. He was so much better at this tracking stuff. She wiped the sweat off her face and stood, taking in her surroundings.

Daryl had walked into these woods alone. He was probably going out hunting, just like he always had. However, nearly a five minute walk from camp, the tracks became strange. She wasn't sure, but she could tell he'd stopped and tried to defend himself. A new set of tracks had appeared. From the looks of it, there had been three different men who had ambushed him. Daryl was tough, but even he couldn't fight off that many people.

She flinched when Zeva lunged against a tree, her glistening black coat brushing against it as she eyed Presley. Much to her surprise, there was an arrow lodged into the tree. He'd fired at something, or somebody, and had obviously missed. She approached the arrow and pulled it from the tree. A small square of green flannel cloth hung from the center, having gone cleanly through. There was a speck of blood on the shirt as well. She grinned faintly. Daryl hardly ever missed. She returned the bolt to her collection and continued inching forward.

She nearly had a heart attack when she heard a deep laughing. The girl pressed herself flush to a nearby tree and listened as somebody got closer and closer to her. There were two individuals by the sounds of it, and they were coming her way. Her grip on the bow tightened.

The moment that one of them passed the tree she fired one of them down with an arrow to the back of the skull. It took the other man a few seconds to register what had happened and to whip around and face her, struggling to aim his gun. Fortunately for her but quite unfortunate for him, she already had an arrow aimed at his right eye. Her heart was pounding, but she wasn't afraid to kill again. She would kill the entire world if it meant Daryl's safety.

"What'd you do with him?" She said. In spite of her shakiness, she kept her voice as level as possible. She could only pray that he couldn't see the small quiver in her arm. He lowered the weapon slowly, an uneasy look in his eye as Zeva growled. "She'll get you with just one word, you know?" Presley's face portrayed no emotion. "She's remarkable. When I adopted her they said she had been an army dog that was sent home because of an injury. They were going to put her down." Presley took a large step forward as the man looked between her and the dog. "She went through all her training, though... Just one word.."

"I ain't tellin' you nothin'." The man spat.

"Attack." Zeva sprang forward, tackling the frightened man to the ground. It only took a few snarls and nips for the man to cry out in submit. When Presley called her away, the man was trembling with fear. Zeva hovered closely to him, her muscles coiled in preparation to spring if he tried to move to harm either of them.