Chapter 3

-Celine-

Daryl. This was the man who saved me in the woods? I knew that voice and the crossbow, but the face threw me off. How could someone who looked so angry and gave the 'stay away or I'll shoot you' vibe save me?

"Yea yea, come on. Help me with this."

He picked up the head of the small doe, which had a yellow tailed arrow in the skull, and began to pull. Shane jogged over to pick up the back legs.

"He'll grow on ya."

Lori said putting a hand on my shoulder.

-Daryl-

"Coulda been a little nicer man."

Shane said. I huffed.

"Yea like you were any more warm at her arrival."

I snapped. Shane was the first one to say something about the girl I carried in, when she passed out I had to carry her bridal style. Lori, Andrea, Amy, and Dale rushed around trying to find clothes and bandages if they were needed. When I put her in the camper I returned to where I lost my deer, which I found, unharmed by walkers.

'Girl must be good luck.'

I thought.

"She could've been bitten."

Shane argued.

"Because I would bring a infected back ta camp right?"

I asked with a annoyed edge. It didn't take much for Shane to get on my nerves and I figured he knew that. He didn't say anything as we sat the doe by the fire pit. The next few hours consisted of cleaning, cutting, and cooking my kill.

-Celine-

I was left to myself as the others went in with their daily routine. Using my alone time, I decided to hunt down that redneck. By a blazing fire, Daryl sat still pulling meat off a clean carcass. I stopped a few steps in front of the fire pit, making sure that that and the doe was between us.

"What?"

He snapped.

"First of all, I don't deserve the attitude. Second, I wanted to thank you, for helping me. If you hadn't been there, I probably would've died or worse."

He never looked up just made a 'hmm' sound. I crossed my arms. He stood, wiping his bloody blade on his jean leg.

"Look, your welcome okay?"

He looked at me then. His eyes were blue, but with the fire, they looked like the sea was full of kerosene and someone dropped a lit match. Without another word, he walked off and left his meat to cook.