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Survival Isn't An Option	By : Pilgrim Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 6774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters from the series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The faint light of the new day stirred her back to the horrors of the world around her. It was hardly an improvement on the nightmares. To her right, a walker hung from the tree, its stench enough to hide her own living scent from any that might have wandered close enough. Stiffly she rose and snapped a can open as she headed into the forest. She’d lost the road, she’d lost the map and she’d lost her direction. Hopefully there would be another road and another sign somewhere, until then she just had to keep moving and scavenging. The distance between herself and those men had to be maintained at any and all costs. Hours passed as she traipsed laboriously through the woods, the sun was setting as she scrambled up a tree and tied herself to the trunk. She had no idea where she was heading, just that she had to stay alive, and keep walking. A stream had filled her water bottle and quenched an ever growing thirst but there had been no signs of animals to snare and that made her stomach clench. It meant something was hunting them in this area and anything that was hunting was unlikely to mean her well.
The days bled into one another, every morning started with her falling from a tree onto a leaf littered floor and hurrying away from the source of her noise and further into the woods. Every night involved her climbing up yet another tree that would ultimately deposit her at some point in the night back onto the floor. By the sixth day her tins had finally run out and she was resorting to scavenging berries as she walked. Up ahead she spotted a walker dangling from a tree and she stumbled to a stop as she realised it was the same tree and the same walker as the first night. She’d been going in circles for almost a week and despair threatened to settle in, clawing at her sanity.
Isabelle glanced over her shoulder at a noise, she was back in the danger zone. She’d brought herself straight back into their territory and she hadn’t even been aware, she’d stopped being careful a long time ago. There was a trail of tin cans along her path, she would be too easy to track. Pulling at her hair and trying to ignore the rising internal voice of panic Isabelle contemplated what to do. She couldn’t turn around and move the cans and she couldn’t keep walking in her not so straight line. She needed to find the road again. With a groan she headed back through the muddy pool and scrambled up the ditch until her bare feet met the tarmac once more. Looking up and down it she headed along the grass verge, hoping that the men had ventured into the forest and weren’t working their way along the road as well. By the time she reached cross roads her heart was heavier than it had been in years and now she had to choose yet another direction.
Slowly Isabelle turned and looked down each road in turn. Every single one of the roads had the same chance of leading to disaster or success. Every single option was out of her control and ultimately it didn’t matter anymore. There were no more signs, the prison group was gone, it had been too long. She had to accept that, she was alone and it was time to stop pretending, to stop chasing a dream of finding hope and friendship again. It had been over a fortnight since she’d left the prison, they wouldn’t be waiting for her by now. Terminus was her best option, whether the group were there or not but she had no idea where it was anymore. For all she knew she was walking in completely the opposite direction. She was alive, she was reasonably well if a little worse for wear and she needed to focus on those facts and maintain them. Winter was coming and she couldn’t be out in the elements for it, already the leaves were turning their colours and threatening to fall. With a mental shrug she headed down the road that went straight ahead and trudged onwards.
Two more days passed before she heard them, their low masculine voices carrying over the distance. They were to her right, just off the road, thundering carelessly through the woods, confident in their ability to survive anything. Carefully Isabelle glanced through the woods to a garage. She would bet anything they were in there, probably torturing another girl for their pleasure. As long as she stayed below their radar she would be fine. Silently she crept away and headed back along the road keeping her eyes and ears sharp to the slightest disturbance. A walker snarled and snapped towards her and she dispatched it cleanly, her dagger going straight through its temple and into the brain. A second followed but also fell to the same treatment but the noise worried her. Sure enough the men’s voices grated against her ears and as she glanced back she spotted the leader. They would find the walker corpses, there would be no doubt about that and there was no way to conceal them.
Isabelle didn’t need any more incentive, she bolted into the woods. It didn’t matter if she got lost again, she was already lost, it only mattered that they didn’t catch her. A bullet hit the tree in front of her and she vied to the left, spinning around it and sprinting over a short open distance before turning right and into the denser woods again. A hand grasped her ankle, a walker bonded with the brush snarled and snapped as she kicked its head and wrenched herself free. Scrambling onto her feet she ran again only for a searing pain to rip through the left hand side of her abdomen and she fell to the mossy floor with a shout of agony.
Her hand pressed to the wound, but it was no bullet wound, an arrow protruded from her flesh. It was through the side of her body, just barely puncturing it, taking more from her skin than her muscle. Even a centimetre more and it would have missed. Tears ran from her eyes freely; it might have missed everything vital but it burned. Struggling upright she pressed her hand to it and tried to run again but there was no running with it in her body. A bloody hand pressed to the tree as she glanced down at the offending object, she struggled to control her breathing and her blood ran colder. She knew that fletching. Those white and lime green feathers were Daryl’s favoured colour scheme, either they’d found him and taken his cross bow or… he’d shot her. She couldn’t decide which was worse. Fighting the pain Isabelle struggled a few more feet before the pain of the moving arrow brought her to her knees. She needed to remove it.
Too late she heard the footsteps approaching rapidly from behind and gritted her teeth. The fingers around her dagger tightened, she was either going to take the man down or herself. Either way, someone wasn’t leaving this arena. With a last surge of strength, she pushed herself onto her feet and spun, one hand steadying the arrow as the other raised the dagger defensively. Her eyes took in the man before her and every iota of thought left her mind as Daryl stared in equal disbelief back at her.
“Belle?!” He saw the arrow and hurried forwards only for Isabelle to raise her dagger level with his throat. If he was alive he’d used the crossbow and he was the one who had set the arrow into her body. He’d hunted her.
“Don’t touch me, you’re with them,” Isabelle hissed viciously stumbling backwards and away from his horrified expression.
“I didn’t know… they said you’d killed one of them, just a random woman, and attacked Joe?” Daryl spluttered taking a step back and away from the raised dagger. He raised his hands in submission.
“You’re with them? Doing what they want? Do you know what they do to women?” Isabelle exploded as he shook his head.
“We need to get that arrow out,” He whispered desperately but she stumbled back another step as he moved towards her.
“Don’t touch me,” Isabelle screamed. “They raped her until she died, you take me to them and they’ll do the same to me or worse. I’m not going that way,” Tears fled from her eyes tracking a clean path through the dirt on her face.
“All right, just let me get the arrow out,” Daryl urged as he stepped forwards again.
          The shouts of their voices crept closer and Isabelle took two more steps away before her knees buckled. Daryl was there quicker than she could process, a hand under her elbow helping her down. Without warning he pulled the arrow free and ripped the flapping remains of the skirt before tying it around the wound. His eyes met hers calmly and her defences fell, this was Daryl. He couldn’t mean her harm even if his own life was in danger.
“You have to run,” He whispered. “I’ll lead them away, don’t look back and don’t stop.”
“Stay with me,” Isabelle broke out. “Don’t leave me again.”
          Daryl looked genuinely broken as he glanced back in the direction of the voices, calling out to him. “I stay with you; they hunt us both. It’s easier to track two than one. I can’t protect you from all of them. You have to run Belle.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she grasped for his jacket.
“Don’t leave me,” She hissed in desperation, she’d only just got him back. He couldn’t leave again. She couldn’t let him go, let him disappear back into that world. How would she find him again?
“I’ll find you,” He whispered. “I promise I’ll find you Belle but you have to run. I can’t lose…”
          Isabelle watched as his words broke and something snapped in his eyes. He’d lost someone else and she wondered once more who had fallen at the prison. Slowly she released his jacket and let him pull her to her feet. He pressed her old dagger, the one he had sharpened religiously for her, into her hand. “Run,” He whispered one last time.
She wasn’t going to let him leave like this. Without thought she flung her arms around his shoulders and desperately kissed him. His own arms wrapped about her tightly, something desperate in the way he held her mirrored her own fears and desires. Too soon he released her, one last glance back before he jogged in the opposite direction shouting for Joe’s group to follow and that he’d shot her. Silently she watched him go, fighting the tears, fighting the sadness at losing him again. How would he find her? Fate had granted them one last chance and he’d thrown it away to let her walk alone, again. She’d rather have faced the group until she heard them crowing for her blood. A hand to her wound she headed in the opposite direction, ignoring the light stream of blood through her fingers.
Their voices receded and she paused to take a moment’s respite. Tears again broke through her defences and she brushed them away furiously. This was no time for weakness or wishes. She glanced back over her shoulder. He wasn’t going to find her again, not in this world and she couldn’t lose him, not again. It would be safer to know where her enemies were, to keep them in her sights. Isabelle turned and began to follow their trail of destruction, perhaps it was the blood loss or just the fear of being alone again but it never struck her that this could be dangerous. That she was no master of stealth or tracking and that Daryl would know if he just checked behind them that the bare feet would be hers.
Droplets of bright red blood fell from her fingertips as her hand slid from the wound. Slowly she glanced down and saw as if from a great distance the blooming crimson stain through the tie of the material scrap. She was going to bleed out, she felt her lips quirk and a giggle fall from them as her knees buckled and she hit the floor once more. The leaves were so soft, so much nicer than her own plush mattress. Surely just an hour or two’s dozing wouldn’t do her any harm. She could train again afterwards; her feet would need the rest before she crammed them back into her pointe shoes. Boots approached rapidly and she briefly wondered how they had got into her room before darkness consumed her.
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Survival Isn't An Option