𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | daryl dixon

- 𝟑𝟖

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     THE DOOR slammed open and the five people streamed in. rick, t-dog, rosaline, and daryl. even carl joined them. they had gone for a run to look for a place to stay since the whole group had practically been left with no supplies. they'd been on the road for a few months now.

     rosaline let an arrow pierce through a walkers cerebrum, making it slack to the wooden floor with a hollow thump. glass smashed as t-dog rammed a poker through the brain of another one of the undead.

     daryl entered the house, crossbow already trained and aiming at anything that had the possibility of moving. the little boy behind him sprinting in, watching out for anything dangerous.

     his pistol had a silencer. a safety precaution in case he needed to shoot and they couldn't risk making any noise. it had the possibility of attracting walkers.

     the girl entered a room, her bow already tense as she got ready to shoot an arrow in case anything came to attack her. nothing. her eyes scanned the dirty walls, seeing old paintings and a similarly aged clock.

     whilst searching for supplies through the room she'd come across nothing much of use. her hands brushed against the handles of a cupboard. she slung her bow around her body before taking out her trusty kukri.

     flinging the door open, rosaline raised her knife above her head, ready to strike.

     nothing.

     she let out a breath of relief before examining the contents of it. there was nothing much they could use. quietly, she'd made her way out into the hallway, following t-dog and daryl up the creaking steps.

     there was a vacant room that rosaline decided to explore with t-dog. the walls were a vibrant pink, a fireplace was mounted to the wall opposite the door, a few ornaments still placed on the ledge.

     the twang of a crossbow distracted her as she ran out to see if daryl was okay. during these times, the two were almost attached at the hip. just like her and rhaegar; although, the dog had stayed behind to guard the outside as instructed.

     "i'm okay," daryl said to her as he walked out grasping the feet of an owl.

     she shot him a look of disgust, "dinner?"

     "if you can shoot anything better, please make sure to come and get me," he said, carrying the animal down the steps, plucking its feathers.

     rick whistled and the familiar clinking of nails against floorboards made rosaline turn around. the dog rushed up to her leaning its head on her thighs, begging to be pet. she chuckled, succumbing to the pleads, scratching behind his ear.