CHEROKEE ROSE (D. DIXON)

3.

Of course, I don't care all that much. There isn't really a way I could eat the entire deer myself. But, I have a feeling he can't either, which means he has a group.

I could use a group.

I realized early on that I needed to be with other people. I had never been alone in my life before, and I wasn't too interested in starting now. I'd felt myself becoming stir crazy in the last couple weeks alone.

I craved social interaction, and though I'd caught this Daryl spying on me shirtless, I found myself reveling in our choppy conversation

I'd spent the last few days wandering, looking for other survivors. I knew it was a shot in the dark, but it's what a person needs to survive in this world. It was impossible to sleep most nights knowing there wasn't anyone watching my back.

No one can survive alone, not before the dead walked the earth and not now.

Daryl grunts, attempting to drag the deer up the steep hill.

I climb back on my horse, following the man as he moves painstakingly slow up the steep, rocky hill.

"Want help?" I offer cheerily.

Daryl doesn't answer, groaning as he drags the carcass.

I sit back, observing the strange man. His face is painted in a permanent scowl. His mousy brown hair sticks to the back of his neck, sweat dripping down his back. His dirty shirt's sleeves are crudely cut off, revealing dirt covered, but toned arms. I shake my head silently. A real red neck.

"I won't steal your deer." I offer.

He flashes me a glare with alarmingly blue eyes. "What's it to you?"

I shrug. "Want my help or not?"

He lets out a sigh and nods minutely. I slide off Rio's back, and we lift the deer, laying it across the saddle. Daryl holds the carcass steady, while I lead Rio up the hill. I stop at the top, looking back to the angry man with the crossbow.

"Left." He commands.

"How many of you? In your camp?" I ask, looking back at him expectantly.

"I dunno. A few of us." He mutters.

I roll my eyes.

"Here's good." Daryl huffs, tossing the deer from Rio's back. "Think I left my canteen by the river."

I don't move. Invitation or remark?

He strolls back into the brush. "You comin'?"

I suppress a smile, following him with Rio in tow.

"Shane'll probably let ye stay, you ask nice 'nough." He mutters, barely audible.

"Shane?" I ask, syncing my pace with his.

"He's a cop. Tells the others how to wash their panties, I guess."

I wrinkle my nose, bad memories resurfacing. "Don't like cops too much."

Daryl lets out a short grunt that I can only assume is a laugh. "Makes two of us."

"What did you do, before all this?" I pry. The sun drops behind the hillside, and the shade provides a place of refuge from the unforgiving Georgian sun.

"You always ask so many questions?" He asks, irritation on the edge of his voice.

I look down in shame, embarrassed. "Sorry."