𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 | 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝑵𝑬𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪

𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘍𝘐𝘝𝘌

☼ 

The ever watchful eye of Daryl Dixon was beginning to bother Delaney. Her brother was a quiet person by nature, at least, when he wasn't riled up - he observed, listened and took in information that people would have otherwise missed. She guessed, it was a part of him like it was a part of her, mostly stemming from a childhood where having to be quiet, was a must. Whilst she could say that she hadn't suffered like he had at such a young age, she most certainly did in her teenhood, and so similarly she had learnt the art of observation. 

He was using his skill against her now. Every so often she would see him looking across at her, his dark hair mostly hiding his eyes from view, but she felt it - his gaze, his concern. She had seen herself reflected in the water of that stream, and she had not liked it. Her skin was colourless, pale even by her standards, sickly. She had definitely lost weight too, enough to feel the difference, to note it. She had always been a small person, with an unhealthy kind of relationship with food because of an asshole of a father, but this was the smallest she had ever been. It was unhealthy, enough to make her fully aware that it took very little motions to make her feel tired. 

Even lifting her rifle at this point took more energy out of her than it should have. It wasn't a heavy gun, at least, no the heaviest she had ever held. It was still a weight she was baring, silently.

Daryl was making those comparisons too. Thinking of the last time he had seen her, a little younger, a little thicker, a little happier. She had been so happy in those months leading up to the outbreak - he remembered it so clearly. There had been something she wanted to tell him, and, well, she hadn't got the chance. That happiness was gone now, that light having fizzled out in her eyes. He noticed this too. 

"I can take the gun, if it's getting too heavy..." Glenn, sweet, sweet Glenn, was one of the people in the group that just would not give her a break. She was entirely content to walk quietly, to shoulder her burden all to herself, but he was making it intensely hard to do so with all of his worrying. Maggie was just the same, she had realized. They nagged like parents, and even though she was very sure she was older than the both of them. In response, Delaney shifted the weapon in her arms, and shook her head.

"I'll kept it." She answered, voice low, "Never know if we'll see anything worth shootin'." 

She saw Glenn hesitate, as if he wasn't sure whether to be offended at her comment or not. It wasn't that she didn't think he could shoot, but it was more or less that she simply did not want to hand over her weapon. It was Scouts. It was his. It was in her hands now, and it was going to continue to be until she finally had no use for it - even then, she thought she'd carry it with her. Thankfully Glenn didn't pester, slinking back to where Maggie was walking by Michonne. 

The sun was beginning to set, and everyone was clearly ready to sit themselves down and rest. They had gathered as many hazelnuts as possible, storing them in the backpacks that some of them still had for later use. That was a good idea, and with two hunters among them, the odds for food were looking somewhat decent - though she supposed the hunting depended on the prey. 

It wasn't until vision started to get impaired by the darkness that Rick decided they should stop. With some light still visible, everyone made their small camp. "No fire." Delaney had halted Rosita, eyes darting toward the tree's. The younger girl, who looked like she might have been about twenty-four at most, squinted up at her but did not question why. It was clear why, but the want for warmth was understandable because once the sweltering sun had gone in for the night, it got a bit colder.