**********
"Daddy wake up....!"
Maggie reached over to the back seat of the car. Gently patted Hershel's knee until his eyes opened.
He stared wildly back at her in fear until she smiled at him.
"I think it's her. Your little pen pal?" Daryl's nickname has stuck with the family.
"Where....where is she?" Hershel asked scanning the road excitedly.
"Ummmm sorry, not exactly in person" Glenn responded with a laugh.
"But she sure knows how to make her presence known. And in the most....unusual way."
The little convoy stopped and everyone got out. On guard as usual but with stunned smiles on their faces.
All except for Daryl, who stalked up with his crossbow in readiness. Shaking his head in utter disbelief.
"Why not just plant the damned Hollywood sign in the middle of the road and be done with it" He muttered, striding up to the tree.
He flicked it disgustedly with his hand, giving way to a big private grin as he did so.
Despite his sometimes-dour persona, he has a very quick if at times sarcastic wit. Quietly revels in other people's senses of humour too.
Because it proves to him. That not all is dead in this new world.
It's been a month now since the first discovery. A month of him anxiously wondering. If his unspoken advice to Hershel, to tell the girl....well....if it made a difference?
He knows the answer to that now. Felt a big wave of relief wash over him.
It's a smallish tree with a long trunk.
And wrapped around it is the biggest, brightest yellow bow. At least a yard high and two long, the material held in shape thanks to bent wire coat hangers.
Ribboned ends stream around in the breeze.
Daryl scanned the ground and immediately spotted the tell-tale size eight boot prints. No more than a half day old. He gazed into the forest beyond and yep....there it is.
A camouflaged canvas mound about ten yards in from the road. Big one at that.
He walked into the brush, pulled off the cover and looked for it.
"What the fuck?" He muttered to himself.
"This bitch is stone-cold crazy."
The letter is taped to the seat of a bright neon pink, glittery child's tricycle.
It has a little tray on the back with purple streamers hanging down from the hand grips. There's a massive silver horn attached to the handlebars.
Daryl ripped off the envelope, pausing briefly to see the now familiar handwriting. Same as the first letter Hershel gave him. To keep safe in his pack which hardly ever leaves his side.
He trotted up to Hershel who's trailing the group....handed it over.
He took it and glanced at Daryl before heading back towards the road.
"Care to join an old man in a bit of light reading, son?"
Daryl paused for only a split second, then followed. They sat on the tailgate of the truck and Hershel began to read his letter out loud....
Dearest Hershel,
I start this off with another apology. It's all I seem to be doing lately I'm afraid.
YOU ARE READING
Home is You ('Home Is' Book One - Daryl Dixon)
FanfictionSemi-mature. Completed. Nate's a teenage Aussie tomboy. Who grew up in a country town with 4 big brothers and parents who adore her as much as she does them. She's strong, resourceful, smart and a bit of a smart-ass. But still just a girl. One who f...
