In the Sound

For a moment I watched him.

Daryl was trudging back to his tent, the crossbow that was slung over his shoulder was swinging back and forth with every step. His free hand drooped by his hip like a pendulum.

I swallowed hard and wiggled my wiry fingers a little. Why would he gesture to his tent anyway? Why would he want me to follow? Maybe he was gonna kill me. I definitely couldn’t tell.

When he was out of earshot, Carol peeked over her shoulder at me. Her arms were folded neatly, a stern hold twitching at her brow. Her cheeks were sallow and sunken, like she wasn’t sleeping or something. I remembered the little girl from the barn, her little girl. Limping on out of there and groaning. I remembered Carol’s screams.

Her beady eyes locked with mine, “Careful there Nora, he aint exactly daisies tonight. Screamed at Lori, and me, and then some.” Carol sent a fleeting glance Daryl’s way before she turned back to the car.

She weaved back into the group, helping them inspect Randall’s limp body.

I wanted to go and join them. To prod at Randall and hear his answers to their questions. To hide my horrified face from Daryl. But after a few seconds of harsh breathing, I just followed.

My feet walked quickly, swishing through the long, wet grass. The sharp sides of the grass cut into the material of my pants, leaving streaks of water. Bugs were buzzing and humming around me. The wind whistling sweetly and making my cheeks flush. Above me were the tree tops, swaying to and fro in hushed songs.

I peeked ahead to see Daryl already at his tent.

It was quiet over there. The moon glimmered off of the triangular top. Dixon was hunching over, his head popped between the flaps of the door. He shrugged the crossbow down his shoulder until it slid inside.

Every step I took my heart hammered harder.

Daryl plopped onto a log beside his tent. His back leant against the oak tree he was sheltered under. Perched in his hands was a carving knife, plucking away fray pieces of an arrow. When I was hovering just a few steps in front of him and his tent, his gaze darted up to me.

“Le’ me guess this one. Made it to town so’s to prove a point. Dint work out so good, got spooked an’ came back first chance.”

I sighed. “Is there a point to this, or did I jus’ come out here to hear your bitchin’?”

Daryl rose quickly, suddenly looking very tall.

“Ya best shut the hell up,” he grumbled, eyes squinted. He gestured wildly at me, finger pointed in disapproval.

My eyes widened, blazing with fire. I could feel the red consuming my face and heating at my cheeks. I took a brave step forward, clenched fists tapping against my hips. He brought me here and he was insulting me?

“Honestly Daryl, how ‘bout you learn how to speak to a woman with a bit o’ respect. Cause maybe Lori an’ Carol can take it, but I sure as hell aren’t gonna let you talk to me like that.”

“Ya left cause o’ me. Hell was I s’pose to be? Whistlin’ dixies?”

I pouted my lip a little, chewing on the inside and feeling my brows fix. “Why would you be mad about that?”

“Dint know if I’d see ya again,” Daryl mumbled hastily.

A loud scoff escaped between my primrose lips. I shook my head in disbelief, clenching my sweaty palms. “Thought that was the point. Like you said, we aren’t anything to each other. ‘Cept strangers.”

“I jus’-” He hesitated, like a cloggy lump was caught at the back of his throat. “Jus’ thought I should say-”

“Say what?”

Dixon shifted awkwardly at that. I knew he wanted to shut down and hide in his tent. To pretend that he didn’t know me, or know what it was he wanted to say. Guess I was pushing him.

“You aint so bad,” he was pacing in his spot, turning in quick intervals and chopping his gaze between his feet and my eyes. “Women like you. Figure ya a rare breed now.”

I raised a brow suspiciously. “Women like me?”

“When ya ‘round, it’s better. Don’ know why, jus’ is,” he shut his mouth quickly. Tasting the next words on his tongue carefully, unsure. Wiping a finger under his nose he mumbled in a finish, “like my ma.”

Chewing harder on my lip, my bulbs flickered around his feet. The grass was flattened and wet under his boots.

I could imagine Daryl’s mum now. A washed out lady, with sallow cheeks and the same dark eyes that Daryl had. She’d be pale on the face, skin maybe layered with light freckles. She’d holler at the boys to come in. Listen to them making a ruckus on the cabin patio, swat the back of their skinny little heads. And now. Now she was probably dead.

Just like my Dad. My Mum. Bentley. Sophia. Daryl’s brother.

Everyone.

Daryl locked eyes with me, probably thinking the same thing. He edged over, his baggy pants ratty at the bottom. Patches of dirt and grime shadowing his face. His face growing closer and closer every second.

We weren’t nothing to each other. We were everything. We were all we had now.

I froze in my spot as he cautiously closed the space between us.

He plucked his head out, swooping in awkwardly. I held my breath, shutting my lids as tightly as I could. Daryl pressed his rough lips against the corner of mine. Lingering just for an awkward moment, barely touching me.

He pulled away after a second. Stepping back a few awkward paces. His eyes trained on mine before they swarmed over my face. Studying my expression carefully.

“Told myself I’d do that- if I saw ya again,” he said gruffly.

And then like magnets, our lips met again.