Pointy Sticks and Crossbow Bolts

1. BEFORE

"You're so full of shit." Haley laughed, shoving Daryl's arm playfully as they walked through the quiet woods, searching for game.

"Dead serious." He replied with a careful half grin. "I was out huntin', on a day just like this'n, and I saw it cut out on the trail ahead of me, stood there, starin' at me, the remains of a jack rabbit hanging from it's mouth. I ain't got a doubt in me for what it was."

"Right... Because it wasn't just a rabid dog?" She guessed sarcastically. Daryl shook his head, still grinning. "Nope. It was a chupacabra. Damn straight." He nodded in satisfaction as they walked. "I'm willin' to bet there's more than a few out here, too."

"Right." Haley agreed halfheartedly with a nod. "Because you're sane enough that I can actually believe any of the bullshit that just came out of your mouth?"

He snorted, ducking under a tangle of branches and kudzu vines, "You should." He grunted in effort, as he emerged in a long, empty stretch of pasture. "Damn..."

Haley stepped up beside Daryl and looked out at the open field. The summer breeze, warm against their skin, blew through their hair in a peaceful moment of silence.

"You can see everything from here..." Haley commented, sighing in amazement, watching birds swoop low across the empty grass plains, darting in and out of the occasional tree on the stretch.

"See it?"

"See what?" She replied in confusion. Daryl pointed down the valley. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked down, half hidden behind an old oak, was a buck. Maybe even a twelve pointer, from the looks of it.

"Maybe we can get it?"

"Ain't no maybe about it." Daryl muttered in reply, already setting off for it in stealth. Sighing, Haley dropped into a stealthy crouch similar to Daryl's, and they began to cut through the waist deep grass, splitting apart from each other after a couple yards to flank the buck.

Discreet hand signals in the air were used to communicate, and the buck remained oblivious to it's incoming fate. It stood there, continuing to eat away at the vegetation growing at the base of the oak.

Crouching, breathing almost nothing, Haley slowly raised her pistol, aiming it carefully for the forehead. She'd wait until Daryl had taken his shot, since he had a silent crossbow to hunt with, and the bullet she'd use, might come in handy later.

There was a silent, still moment when time seemed to stand still. A breeze skimmed across the field, and a thunderous clap of thunder echoed through the woods. Dazed, Haley watched the buck sprint in the opposite direction, and she couldn't quite understand why Daryl had fired his gun.

Disoriented, she stood up from the grass, searching for him. She found him on the otherside of the oak, looking in the direction they'd come, in the direction of the prison. In the direction of home.

His breathing was heavy, both of them had already forgotten the escaping buck, they stared back into the trees, when another distant boom sounded. "That's the prison, shit!" Daryl snarled, grabbing his crossbow from the ground, he was airborne into a sprint. Like a bullet, he was off, darting back into the woods.

Heaving a deep, panicked breath, Haley tore off after him.

Already, the woods were becoming hazy with the powdery grey smoke that was settling, followed by the stink of burning wood. Daryl and Haley wove between trees, jumping gaps and streams, ducking and dodging branches in the knick of time, all in a desperate attempt to get home.

A million terrified thoughts plagued Haley's mind as she ran, forcing herself to keep running no matter how much her body protested to stop and take a break. Whatever was waiting for them was not good... And all this smoke was caused by something far more fatal than a stove top fire.

There was a number of things that could be awaiting them upon return. Scavengers, old friends, new enemies, or... The Governor. His name had plagued her dreams for weeks after the incident, and she did her best to ignore the fact that somewhere in rual Georgia, he was still alive, still living, and still being a heartless, murdering psychopath.

That put fear into her mind, making her run faster, heart beating heavier. Glenn had mentioned a week earlier, it was fear that kept you alive. That might've been so, or it might be that you're too scared to die, so you fight harder.

They could see the break in the trees ahead, already choked in smoke. Breaking through the last of the branches, they struggled to catch their breaths while they scanned the field for trouble.

It was like a punch to the stomach and being told your whole family was dead... They froze on the edge of the field, staring at the two guard towers, engulfed in flames. and charcoal black smoke.

"The hell?" Daryl choked out between breaths. Haley scanned the field in a hurry, searching for the threat.

"Daryl..." She whispered, reaching out to find him, unable to take her eyes off the small collection of Army grade vehicles.

"Daryl!" She tugged on his arm.

"What?"
She pointed, wordless, to where the jeeps, trucks and green camo army tank sat on the far end of the field. Positioned before the chain link fence. But it was none of that, not Rick slowly approaching them, or the fact that they'd already blown up two towers and God knows what else, but that, at the front of the crowd, stood the unmistakable man. Eyepatch, trenchcoat and all, scowling at Rick as he approached.

Worse, still, before him on the ground sat Hershel and Michonne, hands bound and feet tied. This was no negotiaton, this was a get out while you can still walk moment.

"We can flank 'em through the woods, we got enough ammo to take out most of them. C'mon, we're losin' time." Daryl tugged the sleeve of her flannel shirt, and took off into the woods again, to cut along the creek to get an angle on the group of ambushers.

Haley forced herself to take a deep breath, before glaring into the woods, tearing off after Daryl.