Arrowhead ➳ Daryl Dixon

t h i r t y - t w o

I got a ton of feedback compared to what I had been getting, so I decided to update with not only a longish chapter, but a fairly quick one as well. Like, I was so excited when I got all these notifications on my phone about you guys responding, you all have no idea. Gah you're the best. This is incredible.
Keep it up, and I'll keep writing. c: 

Remember, more comments + votes = faster updates

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Presley began backing up, but she knew that the space between her and the roamers was quite limited. Still, she wasn't about to go out of this world fighting tooth and nail. 

She was only able to evade them for so long. One of the roamers reached forward and wrapped his knarly hand around her shoulder, trying to get a hold of the flesh on her neck... Presley tensed and thrashed, but prepared for the sting of the inevitable pain...

But it didn't come.

The roamer suddenly released her and dropped to the ground- lifeless. She looked in astonishment to find that there was an arrow sticking out of its head. She pulled a knife out of its holster, stabbing it into the head of an oncoming creature and looking at Daryl with wide eyes. "Get out of here!" She cried, burrying her knife into the depths of another skull. "Daryl, leave!" But he ignored her.

Daryl's hand wrapped around her thin arm and he wrenched her after him, hauling her through the store. She could practically feel the hot breath of the roamers on the back of her neck. A hand grasped her ankle, pulling her down. She cried out when she fell and tried to pull herself from Daryl's deathgrip, but he came down with her instead.

She twisted, kicking her boot in the face of the creature trying to knaw through the rubber. Daryl's arms hooked under her arms as he began to pull her away. One final kick and she was free of the grip and running back towards the entrance. Daryl shoved her forward so that she now ran in front of him, the roamers now having to go through him to get to her.

Once they reached the truck, Glenn already had it partially moving. She didn't bother climbing into the back seat, she propelled herself into the bed of the truck rolled onto her stomach, groaning as the rough tin cans bruised her pale skin. Daryl followed after her, only a few strides behind. She slumped against the side of the truck, running her fingers through her hair as her chest heaved with the effort of breathing. She glanced at Daryl, half expecting a wrath from him... But it didn't happen. He simply stared out into space, eyebrows furrowed, proving that he was deep on thought. Her curiosity urged her to prod at him with some sort of question, but she didn't dare. She could practically see the smoke rolling out of his ears.

The prison came into view, and Daryl was the first to hop out of the truck. He didn't even bother with helping to unload what they had gotten, he simply marched away, crossbow slung over his back. Glenn and Maggie both avoided Presley's gaze as people gathered to collect their find.

At last, Maggie looked up at her. "Why did you do that?" She asked quietly.

Presley didn't glance up, simply handed two cans to somebody who had hands outstretched toward her. "Because, Maggie." She said, sounding a bit annoyed. "You have people to live for, and I have people to die for." She said simply, and to her relief, the brunette didn't badger her any further.

Once the unloading was nearly finished, Presley left. She ducked her head and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans, chewing on the bottom of her lip as she avoided the gaze of anybody who looked at her. 

- - - 

Supper came, and though she had no appetite, she forced herself to at least make an appearance. Her hair was down again, slightly damp from a shower she had took in an attempt to wash away some of the dark blood that loitered her skin. She now looked clean and fresh, even wearing a new set of clothing. This was different from the Presley they were all used to seeing- dusty, slightly bloody. She looked clean and fresh, almost neat.