Never Had Wings | Walking Dead Fanfic | Sequel to AWAS

Day 314: Home

Day 314: Home

[ Daryl Dixon | Third Person | Present ]

     The trees swayed in rhythm to the whistling wind that was coursing throughout the forest, breezing through every single gap left exposed. The forest was so very silent and free of all life forms apart from two grown men who had trekked through it but were now standing stationary.

     Awaiting creatures other than themselves to make themselves known was boring the younger who was leaning warily against a tree with his loaded and ready crossbow dangling downwards in his hands. The elder one was pacing around. The younger one grunted.

     “Patience, little brother.” Merle told Daryl calmly, it was almost ironic how the impatient one was saying the words, probably his first time saying them. “Sooner or later, a squirrel is bound to scurry across your path.” He assured Daryl in a mocking tone.    

     For once, Daryl did not even bother to react to his brother’s words with a usual and tired roll of his blue eyes. He simply stayed silent, gazing out into the forest around them, his eyes full of longing. “Even so, that ain't much food.” Daryl huffed stubbornly,

     “More than nothing.”

     “Pffft.” Daryl breathed, holding his crossbow with only one hand now, using the other to brush his overgrown dark hair from out of his eyes. “I'd have better luck going through one of them houses we passed back on the turnoff.” He told Merle.

     Merle had stopped pacing. He glanced away from the floor and at his little brother. “Is that what your new friends taught you?” Merle questioned, hiding a laugh, Daryl didn’t respond. “Hmm?” he stepped closer to his brother.  “How to loot for booty?”

     Daryl ignored his brother’s statement, still stationary and staring out. “We've been at it for hours.” Daryl reminded him, sounding a lot less like his usual self and more like himself in his younger years. “Why don't we find a stream, try to look for some fish?” he suggested, perking up a little.

     Merle stepped closer to his younger brother once more. “I think you're just trying to lead me back to the road, man.” Merle hypothesized in a gruff country drawl. “Get me over to that prison.” He remarked before he started to pace once more.

     Merle had seen through Daryl’s plan that was both a subconscious and conscious one. “They got shelter.” Daryl said in his defence. “Food.” He emphasized, looking out into the forest that was empty of life. “A pot to piss in.” he stated. “Might not be a bad idea.” He added.

     Merle’s pace slowed as he kicked the dirt beneath his feet. “For you, maybe.” Merle told Daryl. “Ain't gonna be no damn party for me.” he commented.

     “Everyone will get used to each other.”

     “They're all dead. Makes no difference.”

     Daryl’s breath hitched in his breath. He imagined himself walking into the prison, walking through Cell Block C, walking over the dead bodies of his friends, of his….family. Carol. Rick. Carl. Lil’ Ass Kicker. Beth. Axel. Glenn. Maggie. Hershel. Electra.

     He blinked furiously, dismissing the thought.

     “How can you be so sure?”

     “Right about now he's probably hosting a housewarming party where's he gonna bury what's left of your pals.” Merle hypothesized confidently, ignoring his little brother’s question and ignoring how attached he seemed to those people. “Let's hook some fish.” He proposed, walking past Daryl who was still motionless. “Come on.”