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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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“Belle,” Daryl began but she cut him off with a raised hand.
“Can we just actually do what they think we’re doing and try to hunt something?” She pleaded, sighing with relief as he nodded and motioned for them to continue on.
          The woods were quiet, the walkers most likely drawn to the noise of Terminus and anything alive would have been eaten as they passed through. Daryl seemed to be on a similar path with his thoughts, his eyes skirting the horizon more than the ground. Isabelle paused, her right boot pressing at the edge of a patch of mud and she knelt to look at it more closely. She whistled softly for Daryl, letting him take over the inspection. He instantly dropped into hunter mode and motioned for her to stay with him. Close and careful, she could feel the heat of his body as she crouched with him and followed his exact motions. A clearing ahead opened up before them, a small herd of ragged looking deer grazed nervously. One of them dragged an obviously broken hind leg and she could sense Daryl was turning his attention away from it to one of the fitter looking ones. Isabelle let her eyes trail over the injured one, she couldn’t see any bite marks on it, it would be an easy kill if slightly less meat.
          Daryl started to raise his crossbow, his attention locked onto the larger stag at the front of the herd. Silently he sank onto one knee to stabilise himself and loosed the arrow into the stag’s heart. The creature screamed in an ungodly way causing the rest of the herd to run. All but the injured were out of the clearing before Daryl could raise his crossbow again. Isabelle watched as it limped and bellowed after the herd. If they didn’t do something it was going to attract walkers.
          Hesitating only for a second she pulled Daryl’s larger dagger from his belt, ignoring his shout of protest as she sprinted towards the deer. It started to run more quickly, panicked by her approach and even injured it would outrun her. Pausing mid stride, she stumbled to a halt and flung Daryl’s dagger with all her might. A lucky throw saw it through the doe’s ribs and she fell with a grunt into the long grass. Yanking her own dagger free Isabelle sprinted the last few steps and dropped onto its shoulders, silently tracing the dagger across its throat and ignoring the blood spray as it hollered its last death cry. Hearing Daryl’s footfalls from behind she clambered to her feet, pulling his dagger free and offering it back after wiping it clean on the doe’s fur.
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at? We can’t carry two back,” Daryl shouted, staring down at the prone deer.
“Sure we can,” Isabelle stated, wiping the blood from her face. “You move the stag and I’ll move the doe.”
“Belle, you can’t carry a rucksack full of cans, how are you going to manage even half a deer?” Daryl snapped, his face softening a little as she felt her own fall of jubilation and realising he was right.
“Well, it was suffering. Besides, it might distract any walkers from our scent while we take the stag back?” Isabelle grimaced at her own mistake. It had been running from them, a perfect distraction in its own right.
“Come on, we need to move before the smell draws anything,” Daryl sighed in exasperation before heading back to the stag, sheathing his dagger once more.
“No punishment for the dagger stealing then?” Isabelle raised her hands in defeat as he glared over his shoulder at her. “Take that as a shut up and do what the hunter says. Ok, ok, sorry,” She hurried to catch up, smiling winningly at his unamused expression and knelt to help hold the stag as Daryl wrestled the deeply embedded arrow free.
          By the time the blood had drained sufficiently and they’d cut a decent branch the sky was already colouring with the pinks and golds of sunset. Daryl hurried his preparations, leaving Isabelle to watch their surroundings. Her eyes roved over the forest but there was nothing moving, the occasional grunt of a walker in the distance but none presented themselves. She watched him knot the stag’s legs securely onto the branch and he motioned for her to go to the other end. Without a word he was stripping in front of her, the buttoned shirt dropped to his waist and the t-shirt over his head within seconds. Isabelle felt her jaw drop and she was about to say something when he pulled up the other shirt and buttoned it most of the way up. He met her eyes briefly and she got the distinct impression he was daring her to say something.
“At least we’ll have something to show this time,” Isabelle smirked as she watched him fold the t-shirt up.
“If we can get it back,” Daryl muttered as he placed the t-shirt on her right shoulder.
“Left would be better,” Isabelle reached up only for his hand to hold it there.
“You’ve still got that injury to your left, you’ll take the weight better on the right,” He pointed out calmly and she let her hand fall in agreement.
“What about defending myself? I think a dangling hunk of meat might be something of a target for the dead and living alike don’t you?” Isabelle motioned to the dagger at her right hip.
          Daryl pulled it free, deliberately stepping close to her to do it, chest almost to hers, lips hovering so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. Letting her lean in, almost close enough to kiss before he stepped away and replaced the dagger into a loop on her left hand side. “Solved,” He muttered against her ear. Was he being deliberately provocative or was it just her mind wishfully thinking.
“Thank god for that,” Isabelle let her breath escape slowly. He was going to be the death of her, desire was going to be a cause of death of that she was certain.
          Together they wrestled the deer’s branch onto their shoulders, Daryl taking the lead. One hand lazily securing the branch, the other wrapped about his crossbow, ready to loose an arrow at the first sign of danger. Isabelle ignored the instant discomfort of the weight pressing onto her collarbone and was forced to wrap both hands about the branch, grateful of the t-shirt and leather jerkin spreading the weight more bearably. Every step over the uneven terrain jerked the hanging weight of the deer, they may have only had a couple of inches height difference between them but it was enough to make the deer lurch unpredictably as if it was possessed.
“Daryl, there’s something behind me,” Isabelle called out at the noise of something stumbling through underbrush behind her. “I can’t see!” She struggled to glance over her shoulder but every movement made the branch wobble precariously and threaten to spill the deer to the floor.
“Down!” His shout left no room for negotiation and she dropped to her knees without question, pushing the branch to the side as she struggled free of the weight.
          Twisting as she fell, the arrow from his crossbow grazed the air above her cheek as it flew past and into the skull of another rabid dog. Isabelle kicked as a second lunged and drew her dagger to stab a third. They were in the same area as where they had encountered the first one that day, clearly there was a den nearby and their stag, with its trail of blood, had attracted the pack. Scrambling backwards on her backside Isabelle collided with the deer and struggled to get to her feet before another dog leapt over the corpse, teeth snapping millimetres from her throat. She threw herself sideways to avoid the bite and ignored the pain of a slammed wrist into a rock. Twisting upright from her semi-prone position she fell clumsily over the deer’s legs, cursing as she forced herself to get up. A dog landed on her back, having leapt over the deer’s belly and not seen her. Both caught by surprise they tumbled a few feet away. Isabelle slashed at it desperately with her still clutched dagger, catching it in the eye with a cry of horror as it instantly fell limp on top of her.
          Throwing the body sideways she scrambled onto her feet and jogged up the hill she’d slid down with the dog’s momentum. Daryl was on his back, crossbow flung aside and hands pressed against a dog’s throat as it snapped at his face furiously. Tugging her small dagger free she threw it at the dog, it was hardly of the weight and depth to cause real damage but it was enough to shock the dog into jumping away as it embedded into its haunches. She hadn’t dared aim higher up its body in fear of striking Daryl. Instantly he was up again, crouched with his own dagger to hand and on the first lunge of the dog he embedded it into its throat. The body dropping instantly to lie with its brethren. Isabelle gasped for breath, shock and fear slowly abating as she stumbled towards Daryl who was still staring at the body.
“Are you ok?” She brushed sweaty and saliva tainted hair from his face, the dog having sprayed him with its snapping.
          Without warning she was locked into a bear hug that threatened to squeeze all the air from her lungs. More disturbing was the echo of what sounded like crying, or at least a muffled, barely restrained level of crying. She wrapped her arms about him, rubbing over his back. Hands grabbed her upper arms, pushed her backwards to arm’s length and he was inspecting every millimetre of her for any harm. “I’m fine,” She whispered, deciding not to mention how traumatised he looked, there were the beginnings of tears there.
“Thought I’d lost you, I can’t do…” She was crushed against him again, a hand on the back of her head, pressing her to his chest.
“Ok, the Isabelle can’t breathe right now,” Isabelle muttered against his shirt, trying to extricate herself even slightly. Slowly he released her.
“You went over the hill and I just.. I thought the dog had you,” Daryl stuttered, regaining his composure finally.
“Oh come on, I’m a badass, take more than a dog to take me out,” Isabelle grinned playfully, shaken inside at his vulnerability.
“No Belle, I can’t, I can’t lose you and Beth,” Daryl ran fingers through his hair and stepping away, apparently freaked out by his own confession of how much the loss of Beth had affected him.
“You’re not going to lose me,” Isabelle whispered, trying to step around and meet his gaze but he turned with every step until she stopped.
“You don’t know that,” Daryl snapped. “I shouldn’t have brought you out here, it’s not safe.”
“No where’s safe Daryl, look around you! Dogs, walkers, hell even people aren’t safe anymore, look at the claimers,” Isabelle pointed out. “You can’t keep me safe,” Her words died instantly at his haunted look as he finally turned to look her.
          Silently he cut the stag free and motioned for her to help him lift it onto his shoulders. For a moment she was going to argue her own argument but his look clearly forbade any further conversation on the topic. With several huffs of effort they got the stag over his shoulders and made quicker progress back to the group. Isabelle keeping lookout as they almost jogged back with Daryl’s urgency. The celebrations that erupted with the sight of the deer somewhat lifted the depressed mood that had settled over them. Isabelle skirted the group, deciding to clean the now dried blood from her face in the river. Away from the noise she dropped to her knees and stripped her upper half, splashing water onto her face, over her chest and scrubbing at the leather jerkin and the t-shirt until they were spotless once more. The silence only disturbed by the distant noise of the group as they set about making venison everything. They would use every element of the stag and no doubt have a feast tonight. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of roast venison.
          Leaning backwards she let the last rays of the sun rest on her bare stomach and face and let her eyes slide closed. Footsteps stirred her after several minutes as someone approached, she didn’t bother reaching for her dagger suspecting it was either Daryl or Carol. No one else would have noticed her absence, or would have been grateful of it. It was still a well-known fact that her cooking abilities were somewhat limited.
“What did you say?” Carol’s voice rang out coldly causing Isabelle to wince.
“It was a mistake, I didn’t mean… I just… he interrupted before I could explain,” Isabelle started.
“What did you say exactly?” Carol snapped, Isabelle glanced up at her as she stood, arms folded and glaring down at her furiously.
“I said he couldn’t keep me safe, after he mentioned Beth,” Isabelle whispered, internally cringing at the chosen phrasing once more. “I didn’t mean that he was useless at keeping people safe, I meant…”
“Doesn’t matter what you meant. Don’t you know he needs to feel useful? That he values what he can do for others and the main part of that is making those he loves and cares for feel safe with him,” Carol dropped to the dirt next to her. “You couldn’t have said anything worse.”
“I know, I didn’t think,” Isabelle moaned, crumpling her eyes in frustration. “It was not what I meant to say and I have no idea how to make it right again.”
“You could start by actually trying to stay safe,” Carol pointed out. “You know he’ll be fretting that you’re out here alone, even if you are within shouting distance of the group.”
          Isabelle studied the older woman with a frown. “I can handle myself, I still spent that year on my own before he found me and I managed those weeks after I was left at the prison,” She pointed out coldly and allowing her frustration to be voiced at still being thought of as useless.
“It’s not about what you can or cannot do, it’s about letting him know you actually care enough about him to keep yourself safe,” Carol soothed. “He’d blame himself if anything ever happened to you, he takes it all personally. Everyone we lose, everyone who gets hurt, he thinks he could have done something to help or prevent it.”
          Isabelle sighed heavily and dug her boots into the dirt in contemplation. “I can’t stay in a camp all day, I’ll drive me insane,” Isabelle whispered. “I need to be out here, I need the thrill and the threat more than anything. I need to know that I can survive and be of use. I have nothing to give just sat at a camp fire all day. My only benefit to this group is that I can fight to a degree and I can hunt to a degree thanks to Daryl. Other than that I am useless, just another mouth to feed.”
“You keep him stable by being here,” Carol held a hand out as she stood up. “You’ll always be welcome in this group because you keep him grounded.”
          Isabelle looked at Carol’s hand and stood without taking it, brushing the dirt from her jeans before pulling the t-shirt on. “That’s a backwards compliment if I ever heard one,” Isabelle snapped.
“Take what you get in this world Isabelle,” Carol retorted. “You sleep with whoever you want, you can do very little, your morals are dubious at best and you came to us with the intention of saving yourself. Are we really so callous in comparison?”
          Isabelle stared at her and swallowed carefully, the analysis was correct if insensitive and cold.
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Survival Isn't An Option