𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | TWD [Book 1]

XXXV. The Peaceful Oases in the Chaos

The desolate woods amplify the weight of silence as Beth and Daryl sit together, sparse daylight filtering through the thick canopy overhead. They dine on a meager meal of snake that Daryl has managed to hunt down. Lost in her thoughts, Beth gazes downward at her feet, contemplating the sequence of events that led them to this shared moment of solitude.

"I need a drink," Beth breaks the silence, her voice laced with longing and frustration. She tosses aside the bottle of water she holds, seeking some acknowledgment from Daryl, who remains focused on his meal, seemingly indifferent to her words. "No, I mean a real drink," she clarifies, setting the bottle aside as she continues speaking. "As in alcohol. I've never had one because of my dad. But he's not exactly around anymore, so..." Her voice trails off into the silence, met only by the sound of Daryl's steady chewing. Beth sighs softly, understanding that her attempt at conversation isn't landing as she hoped. "I thought we could go find some," she suggests, her tone a mix of invitation and resignation, but there's no response from the stoic man. "Okay then," Beth mutters to herself, rising to her feet with a hint of exasperation. "Well... enjoy your snake jerky."

She turns to walk away, frustration simmering beneath her skin. As she ventures further into the woods, her words echo off the trees. However, the serenity of her departure quickly dissipates when the distant, guttural groans of walkers echo through the woods. Beth halts abruptly, fear crossing her features as she instinctively seeks cover behind the nearest tree, her heartbeat quickening in response to the impending danger.

Cautiously crouching down, Beth grabs a nearby rock and tosses it to the side, creating a diversion. The walkers are drawn to the noise and slowly shuffle in the direction of the sound. As they amble away, Beth takes a deep breath, her hand clutching a knife she has retrieved from her belt in readiness for defense.

Suddenly, a walker approaches closer, startling Beth. Before it gets too near, the presence of Daryl with his crossbow appears by her side, offering her an unspoken assurance of support. Their eyes meet briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. With a protective stance, Daryl prepares to assist her if the situation escalates.

A shared understanding seems to pass between them before Daryl turns away, his footsteps leading the way, and Beth follows closely behind him, a glint of gratitude shimmering in her eyes.

"I think we made it away. I'm pretty sure we've got to head that way to find the booze," she points out, kicking a few cans that clang noisily. She shoots Daryl a glare. "What the hell brought me back? I'm not staying in this sick-ass camp," she flips him off, attempting to walk away, but Daryl forcefully grabs her arm.

"Hey! You had your fun," he warns with a dangerous tone.

Beth yanks her arm out of his grip. Daryl points a finger at her face as she turns towards him. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel anything?" she snaps, but Daryl only stares back. "Yeah, you think everything's screwed. I guess that's a feeling. So, you want to spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and eating mud snakes? Screw that. We might as well do something. I can take care of myself, and I'm gonna get a damn drink," she walks away, and Daryl pauses for a moment. He kneels down to pick up the bandana, placing it in his pocket, and follows her.