—🏹—

It has been a year since I've stayed with the men named Dixon who took me in. I will soon learn that the male that took me in was named Daryl who, like I said, was a hothead.

Ever since the world "went to shit" Daryl would say since people morphed into living dead versions of themselves that feast on the living.

Now that I've grown into a young adult version of myself, I'm now old enough to take care of myself. I've made myself useful by helping Daryl hunt by tracking down game, whenever Daryl shot his crossbow arrow I would go and retrieve them for him.

Such as today when he and I are tracking a deer, I can feel the irritation radiation off of Daryl. We have been tracking for almost two hours — Daryl had shot it three times, it should be dead by now. But nope, it's still moving.

The boys and I stayed with a small group of survivors, they didn't seem keen enough about us joining them nor did the boys but I enjoyed getting pets from the children. Even though Daryl tells them that I bite, even though it was half of the truth.

◤──•❉🏹❉•──◥

I followed the trail of footprints and blood of the deer towards a small clearing where I saw that now dead and eaten deer from the decapitated undead from a group of men, the older man named Dale muttering something under his breath.

"Son of a bitch." Daryl said when approaching the group. "That's mah deer!"

'Technically our deer but whatever' I thought to myself.

"Look at it. All gnawed on by this," He proceeds to kick the undead. "filthy, disease—bearing, motherless poxy bastard!"

"Calm down, son. That's not helping." Dale stated, trying to calm the archer.

"What do you know about it, old man!?" Daryl shouts while approaching Dale. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to "on golden pond "?" He let out a sigh as he approached the deer as I held the three arrows in my mouth. "I've been trackin' this deer for miles."

I have been tracking the deer actually.

"Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison." He took the arrows from me and aimed them at the massive torn gap at the deer's neck. "What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"

"I would not risk that." Shane replies.

Daryl sighs, "That's a damn shame." He pauses before adding. "I got some squirrel— about a dozen or so. That'll have to do." I grunt in acknowledgement at that.

The group saw the dissipated undead's head move its jaw around, and one of the blonde women named Amy let out a disgusted "Oh god." Before turning away with her sister Andrea from the scene.

"C'mon, people. What the hell?" He aimed his crossbow and shot at the head, killing it instantly. Before he could grab the arrow I stepped in and rip it out of the undead's head and gave it to him.

"It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing? C'mon Nyla." With a snort I followed Daryl back to camp.

◤──•❉🏹❉•──◥

Back at the camp where a group of a few adults and two children I notice that group of people Merele's in were back, but where's Merle?

"Merle! Merle!" Daryl called out. "Get yer ugly ass out 'ere! Nyla and I got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up." He placed his crossbow down next to the fire as I lay next to it while panting. A young boy named Carl gave me a bowl filled with water that I started drinking out of.

"Daryl, just slow up a bit." Shane spoke up. "I need to talk to you."

Darly stops in his tracks. "'bout what?" He asked.

"About Merle." Shane responds. "There was a—There was a problem in Atlanta."

All eyes were on Daryl as they circled him, I could tell the gears in his head were moving rapidly. "He dead?" He questions.

"We're not sure." Shane responds. What did he mean by that?

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl said, raising his voice. This time I stood up with my hackles raised as I growl lightly.

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." A new voice spoke up as I saw a man approach Daryl — He has the similar stench of Carl, possibly his father.

"Who are you?" Daryl question.

"Rick Grimes." The man responds.

"Rick Grimes, you got something you want to tell me?" Daryl spat at him. I could feel the anger boiling around Daryl.

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there." Rick responds, sounding like the cop.

"Oh no." I mutter as I stare at Daryl. I could tell that he's about to blow; I know that Merle's an asshole but handcuffing him to a roof is a bit much.

Daryl rubs his face, "Hold on. Let me process this." He made a loco hand gesture with his finger to his temple. He paces back and forth, "You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?!" He yelled out.

Rick nodded his head. "Yeah." He responds with a calm voice.

Now the anger blown up; Daryl threw the squirrel and spun over at Rick but only for Shane to push Daryl towards the floor — I charge and sink my teeth into Shane's leg while Daryl unsheathed his hunter's knife to slice into Rick.

"Hey! Watch the knife! Get the dog!" Someone cried out, a male named Morales wrapped a leash around my neck and pulled me away from Shane. I let out a bark when Shane wrapped his arms around Daryl and put him in a chokehold. "You'd best let me go!" Daryl shouts as he tries to pull Shane's arms away from him.

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't." Shane spoke.

I tried to pull at the leash but only for it to tug me back.

"Choke hold's illegal." Daryl said, grunting in the process while trying to break free.

"You can file a complaint," Shane said. Restraining Daryl, "Come on, man. We'll keep this up all day."

Rick bent down in front of the archer, "I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic." He spoke gently but sternly. "Do you think we can manage that? Do you think we can manage that?"

Reluctantly Daryl nods his head, Shane then lets him go — Morales removes the least from my neck, I immediately trotted over to Daryl.

"What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others." Rick elaborates. 'Yet he left somebody to die' I though while growling

"Heal Nyla." Daryl mutters. My growl ceased.

"It's not Rick's fault." A male voice spoke up. Looking up at the dark-skinned man who goes by T-Dog. "I had the key. I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?" Daryl and I said in unison.

"Well, I dropped it in a drain." T-Dog said.

'Oh well, clumsy ass' I snorted.

Daryl proceeds to sit up while panting, "If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't." He spat at him.

"Well, maybe this will." T-Dog spoke. "Look, I chained the door to the roof—So the geeks couldn't get at him—With a padlock."

Ah. Helpful.

Rick spoke up, "It's gotta count for something."

I notice that Daryl wiped a clear liquid away from his face, is he...crying? I've never seen him cry before.

"Hell with all y'all!" He shouts. "Just tell me where he is so that I can go get him."

"He'll show you." A woman named Lori spoke up. "Isn't that right?" She gives Rick a pointed look.

Rick looks up at the group before speaking up, "I'm going back."

Daryl goes to pick up his crossbow and arrows before saying in a gruff voice, "C'mon Nyla." I follow him close behind.