twenty four. the doe

twenty four˚༺⋆♱⋆༻˚↳ the doe ↲

VIGOROUS KNOCKING rose me from my deep slumber, echoing through the hollow house. When my eyelids parted, I took note of the sun, just barely beginning to file through the cracks in the blinds. It was early enough that the light was tinged pink, and it danced through the sheer white curtains of my room.

That's right—my room. Rick had called it yesterday; it was finally time for our group to divide ourselves into two separate homes. Quarters had been getting too tight in the single abode, and he'd decided Alexandria—or, at least Deanna—was trustworthy. Obviously, there were people who weren't. I'd come to understand this much yesterday.

We'd decided to divvy up in the most fair way possible. Blackjack. Obviously, nobody planned on breaking up Rick, Carl, and Judith, so we all agreed on giving them a default placement in the current house, what we called Base A. Glenn won the first round, and had chosen the opposing house, Base B. After winning the second game, I'd been given the next pick. The only real difference between the two were the porches, but my deciding factor had been which had the best boxed cereal options. Base B had a large assortment of Raisin Bran and Frosted Flakes, while Base A had more sugary options like Cap'n Crunch and Cheerios.

Obviously, I'd picked A.

I chose the room upstairs, on the left. It had been the original one Michonne set my clothes in while showering on the first day. It was bigger than I needed, but it had four great big windows that overlooked the street, and gave me a glimpse at Base B. It was truly peculiar, having a space of my own. Drawers to place my growing pile of belongings in. A bed of my own. A home I wouldn't fear returning to, at the end of the day.

Daryl had willingly chosen the garage of A. He believed it to be the most spacious, and said it would give him room to work on his bike and prepare game. Rick offered him an actual room downstairs, but he declined, claiming Judith's cries would keep him awake. I think the truth was that he wasn't ready to live normal again. Were any of us?

Carl chose the room across the hall from me. I wasn't sure why. We hadn't talked since he'd stormed out at breakfast yesterday. He wasn't happy with my assignment. He'd implied I wasn't fit for a job beyond the walls. As if that wasn't bad enough, I'd caught him walking through the front gates during the fiasco with Aiden and Nicholas. Enid had come through shortly after.

There was no way they hadn't been together. Maybe he'd followed her outside. He was finding other friends. Better suited individuals that he preferred.

This unpleasant thought prompted me to roll out of bed and address the continual banging at the front door. When flinging my door open, my eyes fixed on the boy standing in front of his on room across the way, rubbing his eyes. He didn't look like himself. No hat, hair tousled, and no shirt. He was only wearing flannel pajama pants. Maybe he was too tired to realize, or perhaps he didn't care at all. Though, through all the months on the road, I'd never seen him so. . .exposed.

I huffed, moving to the staircase and looking away from him. "Make yourself decent."

My tired movements created a thump down each step, coming to a slow once I approached the door. I pushed a boot blocking the entrance with my foot, cracking the door open to face the man on our front porch. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I picked out key details. Scraggly hair, open boots without laces. It was Daryl

"You live here," I rubbed my eyes, "You have a key."

He slugged his crossbow onto his back. "Don't need one when I can just knock."

I rolled my eyes. "Start carrying one. I'm not gonna wake up at the crack ass of dawn to let you in, again."

"You've slept enough." He shook his head, "I have the key. You needed to get your ass out of bed."

I yawed, dragging my fingers through my hair. "What could you possibly want from me at 6am?"

"Best time for hunting. Be ready in fifteen."

"Hunting?" I asked, now stretching my sore arms. "Walkers?"

He scoffed, turning his back, and started down the steps.

"You're a real delight." I spoke out before closing the door.

I quietly scaled my way back upstairs for a change clothes. I slipped on a camo hoodie that had been collecting dust in the closet. It was large enough to fit Daryl himself, but it would keep me warm against the morning dew. Then denim pants, and my boots. The red didn't go well with my efforts to cloak myself, but they were my only trusty pair of shoes.

My knees came against the hardwood, and I leaned forward, pulling a shoebox from the dark corner of the closet. Here, I had tucked away Beth's knife. My knife now. I took it out and slid it comfortably into the sheath buttoned on my tough, dark-washed jeans. After pulling my jacket to conceal the blade, I trekked back downstairs to get a bite to eat.

I poured myself a dry bowl of the Cap'n Crunch. I hadn't taken a liking to anything else here. The kind neighborhood ladies hadn't stopped bringing us house-warming meals, but I couldn't quite stomach that type of fresh, yet.

I just beginning to place a spoon in the cereal when Carl joined me downstairs. With a shirt—thank God. He eyed my bowl of milk-less cereal before opening the fridge and pulling out the jar of overnight oats.

Another item given to us by the neighbors.

"Where are you going, and why?" He asked bitterly, leaving space between us and instead sitting a seat down from me.

His distancing was utterly annoying. He had always chosen to be in close proximity with me. Even picked the closest room to mine. He wanted to be near me. He was acting like he didn't, using it as some kind of power move. My skin prickled with vexation, but I didn't bother glancing at him. I didn't care if he sat beside me or not.

I scooped the breakfast into my spoon. "You won't like the answer."

His hat was on, now. And it was tilted at me, like he was glaring.

I swallowed. "Anyway, I think you're a bit of a hypocrite. You were outside the walls yesterday, too."

He spooned some oats now. I heard him release an exaggerated breath before taking a bite. It was dramatic enough that I put down my spoon, and looked to him.

"Yeah, but that's different." He claimed. "I know what I'm doing."

My nails dug into my palm. "Are you kidding? You lived behind top-notch prison security. It had gardens. Livestock. Space to birth healthy babies."

Carl looked into my eyes. "Until the governor came and blew the place up in flames. You had no problem hiding behind him. Don't talk to me about safety."

"Everyone I loved was dead." I squinted slightly, trying to resist the burning in my throat. "I thought I could trust him."

His face contorted. It looked like sympathy, and it was obvious he regretted what he said, but that didn't change a thing. My shoulders tensed, and I turned myself from his gaze, looking into my bowl that I was no longer hungry for.

"Listen," His voice was softer now, "I heard about what happened yesterday. You almost shot that guy, in the head. I'm just—I'm trying to protect you from turning into a—"

"Monster?" I finished for him, "Are you still on about that stuff you said at Terminus? Walkers are monsters. You can be a survivor, or one of the dead. I've already made my choice—it's about time you make yours."

He shook his head, biting his cheek like he couldn't stand the sight of me. We were on day—what—three of living in civilization? This place had already began tearing our friendship apart. We were just beginning to live again, and it seemed we were being shown that we didn't fit into each-others lives of freedom. Maybe we only ever bonded over being young and helpless. In safety, our common goal of survival dissipates. We are to become two separated individuals with different wants and needs.

Who, by chance, share an upstairs and will never be able to fully avoid one another.

"Do whatever you want." Carl replied, his voice void of all emotion. "I don't care anymore."

My few bites twisted in my stomach, begging to come back up. I tensed my abdomen, swallowing the sudden bit of saliva in my mouth. What he meant to say, was that he didn't care about what happened to me beyond those gates. And, part of me hoped he truly meant it. His version of 'caring' was an exhausting cycle of degrading and anger. I think I would have rather gotten chewed to the bone than receive any more of it.

"I never asked you to." I replied, my dishes clattering into the sink before I went out the door.

▬ ▬ ▬

I placed my foot in the crossbows stirrup, using both my arms to pull the heavy string into it's latch. Once lowering myself ground level, I held the weapon to the front of me, squinting at the forest ahead.

"It's comin' our way." Daryl whispered, helping me tilt the weapon to an appropriate level before finding himself a place on the ground.

I waited for a few moments before noticing the doe emerging from behind a cluster of trees. It was smaller than a full grown, but it wasn't quite a fawn. It was like me. Stuck somewhere between a child and an adult. Its sharp hooves clattered against the forest floor riddled in rocks and twigs as it extended its neck down, taking a chunk of earth into its mouth.

We'd been tracking it for at least an hour. We'd caught plenty of hares and squirrels along the way, but this was the ultimate goal. My fingers were cold and stiff, my cheeks reddened by the chilled air. Shorter pieces of my braid had undone themselves and began tickling the sides of my face.

"When?" I said, quietly.

It's head lifted, but not at us. It was hearing something that we weren't. Perhaps the wind against the leaves, or a bird on the ground pecking at peices of needle that it would soon use to build a nest.

"Breathe out real slow first."

I did as he said, ridding myself of air. I held my breathless position, my finger moving towards the trigger. Right as I felt my lungs twinge in a plea for oxygen, I sent the arrow into flight. Though, it seemed that just before the deadly pointed tip was sent out, the doe had been startled. A sound from behind the tree. A snarl.

It sprung forward, and the arrow that should have hit the deer wizzed past its body, planting itself into the chest of the dead that was now coming out from behind the stump. I tilted my head back in annoyance, before placing my foot back in the stirrup, repeating the tedious loading steps.

Pointing it up at the dead, I held my breath. My hands shook ever-so slightly as I tried to focus on target. The walker was too hell-bent on the frightened animal to acknowledge us. But in this cover of camouflage, I had time to digest Carl's words. And, I realized that maybe there was no difference between the dead and us. Lost souls, traveling across this earth in search of one thing. One thing to keep us sane, midst everything.

We all had to eat.

The walker wanted the doe, but so did we. We both had plans to kill it. We were one.

I steadied the crossbow and sent the arrow flying into its head. Daryl sent a rough pat to my shoulder before standing to retrieve the two arrows. I stood with some difficulty, trying to maneuver the crossbow like he did. But the weapon was heavy, and it kept me a few paces behind the older man.

I looked to the corpse on the ground. Now, there was a difference between it and I. The walker was dead—really dead, for the last time, and I was alive. I caught Daryl staring at me now, and I realized I had an odd expression on my face. Maybe it looked like discomfort to him, or sadness.

"Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head, looking in the direction the doe had to have taken off in. "No, if that's okay."

He nodded with wariness, then offered to take the weight of the crossbow. Handing it over, I took one last look at the walker. Part of me felt awful for the thing. It would never find its way out of the woods. I could think of someone very close to me who had met that same exact fate. Allie.

I could only picture how much she would've loved Alexandria. She would have made friends with that boy on the staircase. Sam was his name, I could recall Ron telling us. She would have liked the school held in the garage, and the berry cobblers left as a housewarming gift on our doorstep. I could imagine her in the room that Carl had taken. She'd ask me to do my hair just like how Maggie had done mine on the road. She'd especially like Judith. She's always had a knack for caring for things smaller than herself.

She was such a definitive person, even at her young age. She mirrored our mother heavily. Although I physically looked like her, too, I was nothing like either of them. Sometimes, I feared I was more like my father, but that seemed a little far from the truth. Maybe I was nobody at all.

Simply a sponge, absorbing everything around it, never becoming anything of its own. But my soul was becoming heavy. I was tired of consuming without catharsis. There was never a release. Only an intense build up.

We approached a patch of spongy green moss, and Daryl slowed, tilting his head to examine it. His hands pointed to the indented print, and when I looked to him for confirmation that it was the deer, he nodded. He signaled with his hands that it was close.

He handed back his weapon, and ushered me forward. We closed in on a wide opening, the trees standing much taller than they had at the mouth of the woods. The afternoon sun was now shining past the leaves, illuminating particles of dust, and cotton. The mixture floated about like millions of starts. Beneath this phenomenon, was what we had been searching for. A tan coating of soft fur, speckled with white.

I looked to Daryl.

"Go for it, kid."

The loaded crossbow raised on his command. I lined the metal rod with its neck, tilting my head slightly. Then, a slow breath. Holding it, I waited for the right moment, pressing the trigger. The arrow slid through the air, straight at its throat, giving it only a moment to attempt at running before it dropped completely.

"Hells yeah." The corners of his mouth upturned.

I smiled, carefully handing him his crossbow back. I'd never expected him to let anyone touch it, but he didn't seem to mind much. It was his idea to come out here. It made me question his true motive. Had one of the others asked him to talk me down about the gun incident? That couldn't be. . .he hadn't mentioned a word of it. Maybe he'd been itching to get past the gates without the scavenging team. Solidify his own skills, and teach me a few of my own.

I liked his company. I could trust him with anything. That night—after the incident alongside the car, he was there for me. He was only a stranger then, but he had followed me into the night and let me kill as many dead as I wanted. He'd had my back. He seemed to always have it. That meant something to me.

Once we approached the deer, it took almost no time to realize something was wrong with it. The arrow had dug itself into its neck. So, it didn't make any sense why the doe had thick blood coating its still-warm belly. Daryl noticed this too, helping me roll the animal. I walked along the other side of it, bending down to pull on its fur and examine the wound.

Once seeing the damage, I breathed out.

"Bit?" Daryl asked.

"M-hm." I took my hands off the body, standing. "No use bringing it back."

He grumbled, then took his metal lighter out. He pulled a cigarette from the carton in his pocket, slumping against one of the many trees surrounding us. I followed this action, letting myself rest along the greenery. I stared at the injured animal in spite.

"Daryl?" I spoke out softly, a question begging.

I wanted to know why he brought me out here. He didn't seem to care much about the deer. Getting venison wasn't the purpose of this hunt.

He turned, assuming I was asking for one. The carton flipped open, pointed at me. "Go ahead." He took a breath out. "I ain't see nothing."

I stared at it. "Are you offering a fifteen-year-old a cigarette? Wasn't this illegal?"

He shrugged, closing the carton before standing. "I was twelve when I had my first. And, nah, not as illegal as the shit my brother got into."

I took the hand he offered me, looking up at him. "You had a brother?"

We slowly began our walk back to Alexandria.

"Yeah, older. That so hard to believe?"

"Sort of." I looked to my shoes. "I can't picture anyone telling you what to do."

He pinched the cigarette between his fingers, lowering it from his mouth. "Don't matter who you are, or how tough you come. Older siblings will dominate the shit outta' you."

I snickered, avoiding a branch in my path. "Then, it's different for girls. My little sister could beat me to a pulp. You'd be surprised how well kids can kick."

Daryl nodded, looking to me. His eyes spoke volumes. If you paid enough attention, you could see how his pupils glistened with loss. It was always in the eyes. They weren't hard to read, if you knew what to look for. The dull effect around his iris, the failure to reflect light. I recognized those same features in my own.

Looking back to the cigarette in his hand, I took hold of it between my pointer and thumb. Lifting it to my lips, I ignored the strong scent emitting from it, then took a drag as if I were drinking from a straw. This caused extreme involuntary coughing, and it took me at least five seconds to regain my composure.

"That's disgusting." I instantly handed it back to him, letting out one last cough.

He had a small uplifted expression on his face, while we approached the gates. The metal rolled against itself, creaking to an open.

"Kind of is." He admitted, walking beside me as we passed through the barrier.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · 3,282 words • 10:17pm

thank you for reading, and thank you SO SO MUCH FOR 44k reads?! i'm literally sobbing.

plz vote mwa mwa kiss kiss.

sincerely yours, 𝓜 ᥫ᭡.