Hiraeth (The Walking Dead)

Chapter 2

Shane and Rick led Daryl to where they had seen the person, then showed him the footprints and let him track the child like a bloodhound. The redneck man examined the muddy footprints, taking note of their depth and centre of gravity. He followed the direction they pointed in with the former cops in tow.

"Is'sa kid, but it ain't no helpless kid," he stated matter-of-factly as he crouched down to the footprints as he walked. "Pro'lly some teenager. Smart one, though, runnin' aroun' in zig-zag shapes when you was shootin' at 'em."

Daryl stalked through the trees, keeping close to the footprints. The teen's feet were small, but they wore men's boots that were entirely too large. And Daryl had a feeling he was right about the teenager being a girl.

The three men followed the footprints for another half hour, occasionally stopping so Daryl could examine the prints' changes. He had already determined that the teen's left leg had been injured and that they had to be close, but they hadn't found the child yet.

Daryl stopped as the footprints changed into several directions in one spot. He gazed around, observing wet crimson blood on the ground. "They gotta be here."

"Where?" Shane asked impatiently.

Daryl circled the nearby trees. He stalked across the leaves and grass until he heard shallow breathing. The hunter then saw a small figure against a tree only ten feet away. Approaching it, Daryl got the attention of a small girl, huddled against the tree with her knees bent up loosely. When she noticed the three men, she began trying to push herself away.

Rick and Shane both knew this was the girl they had seen before. She had the same camouflage pants with a hole in the knee, and the bangs of her long brown pixie cut reached just past the black bandanna that she now used for a headband around her forehead. She was gripping her black bow tightly by the ground with a ripped leather quiver full of arrows around one shoulder. She had to have been fourteen or fifteen. The girl had ripped grey fabric tied around one thigh and around her lower chest; both were stained in blood.

"What's your name?" Rick asked, his hand cautiously hovering over his gun. Shane did the same, but he also took his handgun out of its holster to hold tightly by his side.

The young girl reached a slightly trembling hand up to flip the men off, trying to push away and possibly stand up again. Daryl leaned on the balls of his feet before bringing his legs in front of him to sit on the ground cross-legged. He stared at the girl, watching her small movements. She obviously couldn't stand, but she could stare right back at the hunter.

The girl had very feminine features, but her face was very defined with a sharp jaw and a rock-hard expression. Her lips were dry and cracked as if she was dehydrated, and her skin was pale. Her eyes were such a pure green that they reminded Daryl of the wilting green apple tree one of his neighbors had when he was a kid, and how he and Merle would run down to steal some of the small fruits.

The girl wore a thin black leather jacket. It hid her arms, but Daryl could still see the prominent and toned muscles in her biceps and forearms. Her white knuckles were covered in tiny scars; some were slitted, and some were scraped, and some were burned. She held her left hand in a small fist, but she kept her right hand gripping tightly on her bow. Daryl could see a knife- a hunting knife- held to her waist by her leather belt.

"What's yer name," he asked in a mumble, as if it really wasn't that important. Which, to him, it wasn't. He only cared about getting her back to the farm to help her leg and side, then be able to get away from his group- filled with people bickering like little kids.

The girl didn't respond yet again. "Can you hear us," Rick asked gently.

"I ain't fuckin' deaf," she snapped. Daryl couldn't help but get a small smirk across his face.

"Then what is it?" The hunter asked slightly louder, "Pick a new one, but y'only get one."

"Cailey," she mumbled. Cailey had a northern accent, nothing like Rick's or Daryl's or even Hershel's. She sounded like she wasn't even from Georgia, but the way she spoke made her sound more like a hick or a redneck.

"Well, Cailey," Rick began, "Why don't we get you back to our camp. We got medical supplies and everything we need to fix up those gunshots."

Cailey once again only replied by raising her middle finger at the men. Daryl held back another amused smirk as he stood up. "Wasn't a question," he stated matter-of-factly. "C'mon."

"No," she stated simply with a sharp tone.

"No," Rick echoed questioningly. "Don't ya want to get that fixed up?"

"No."

"C'mon," Daryl interrupted sharply, knowing she was simply being stubborn- most likely because Shane was there after shooting her. "Stop bein' a brat."

Cailey crossed her arms as she leaned against the tree more, mumbling "Stop actin' like my father."

Daryl swung his arms down and threw the girl over his shoulder. "Put me down," she protested sharply. Her tone was not like any other teen girl's would be, it was filled with pure anger and irritation, it was bold and loud. Daryl thought she was also much lighter than most teenagers, especially with her wide and muscular build; even though in this world, it was easy to starve. "Put me down," she repeated louder. She pounded a fist against Daryl's back. The impact hurt his shoulder, but he kept moving as Rick and Shane picked up her bow and quiver.

The girl moved and squirmed as Daryl kept walking with her over his shoulder. She punched him in the upper back again. "Im'ma drop ya right on yer' hard-ass fuckin' head," he stated.

"Fine," she retorted sarcastically. Daryl gripped her left thigh, just below where she had tied fabric as a makeshift bandage. The girl grunted and kicked at him the best she could. "Stop!"

"Then stop fuckin' movin' 'round."