Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Walking Dead or its characters.

Ophelia woke with a start, not sure how she had let herself fall into such a deep sleep in the first place. She took a couple of deep breaths, calming down her beating heart before she checked the surrounding area.

The trees were thick, so she couldn't see very far, even from her vantage point but everything seemed still. The sun was a quarter away from the horizon, so it was maybe just past ten. Below her, everything was quiet, no dead ones roaming, or people nearby. Quickly, Ophelia reached forward, untying the bungie cord from around her legs before she reached under her front facing backpack, loosening the one under her breast that kept her propped up against the tree. Straddling the branch, she held one bungie cord out and let it fall to the ground, waiting to see if anything appeared. When all remained quiet, she stuffed the other cord in her backpack, flipped her backpack onto her back so that she could begin her decent down. The tree bark scratched against her cargo pants, scraped against the wraps around her palms but by now she was used to it. When shelter wasn't accessible, she found it easier and safer to sleep in tree, no matter how uncomfortable it got.

Ophelia jumped the last few feet and brushed her hands against her pants before settling on the ground to check her inventory.

Two bungie cords

A bag of apples

A pack of turkey lunch meat (which she needed to finish as it was starting to look colorless)

An eight pack of underwear (which she had already gone through, three times now, but it was nice to have options)

A spare blanket

A pocket calendar and pen

A beanie

She zipped up the backpack, sighing. She was in desperate need of more food, but so far, she had just been wandering this wood and she doubted she would be able to find much else. The knife at her side came in handy once, when she had braved stabbing at a snake and, though she still cringed at the thought of eating it, it was better than eating rotting lunch meat. She hadn't much luck catching any other animals, however, not that she had ever needed to hunt before the world went to hell.

She got to her feet, pulling the backpack on and tightening the straps. Looking around, Ophelia wondered what direction she should try as she pulled her hair out of the bun, letting the curls flop around her head. She had no specific direction other than trying to find shelter or a place with food. So far, she had managed to avoid people and monsters and she planned to keep it that way as well. What Ophelia really needed was a stream or a creek. Hell, she'd settle on a bit of rain, though she knew she'd just end up cold that way. The leather jacket kept her warm enough but if it rained she was screwed, not to mention her tennis shoes.

Ophelia started walking, counting her footsteps. So far she was up to 5283 steps. It wasn't the most amusing way to keep herself occupied but it was something. She watched her steps, keeping an eye out for another snack or a dead one still kicking on the ground.

5467, 5468, 5469, 5470, 5471, 5472, 547 –

She froze when she met the edge of the trees. It had been a long time since she had been out in the open, out of the trees. Slowly she made her way down the hill, stopping at the train tracks, tapping her toe against the metal. Again, she looked in both directions. She could see a rusted building about another mile down; nothing else in the other direction. It was possible that she might find some supplies in the building . . . or a horde of monsters. To take the chance or not to take the chance. The sun was slowly getting lower in the sky. Soon it would be dark and she needed a place to stay.

Before she had a chance to move, a sound made her freeze once again, one that she hadn't heard in a long time.

Voices.

Ophelia's heart skipped into her throat. People, strangers. Men. They'd take what she had, everything that she had worked so hard to collect. The voices were coming from just above her, where she had just come from. How close had they come to finding her? Had they been near the tree she slept in? Not really wanting to get the answers, she looked for a place to hide in her immediate area but by the time she made it up the slope on the other side, they would be upon her. She took off at a sprint towards the abandoned building, her backpack bouncing. A monster came snarling towards her but Ophelia darted around it, hoping that the men coming would be enough to distract it from her.

She hid behind the building just as the first of the men came into view. All of them looked rough and tough, holding various weapons. The new world made men tough, worse than they were before; Ophelia had seen it in action. She wouldn't put herself in a position like that again, she couldn't.

The monster heard the men and started in their direction instead. She watched from her hiding spot as three of the men killed it, almost playing with it. When it was dead they continued in her direction, the eldest of the group pointing towards the building.

There were too many of them, at least twelve. There was no way she'd be able to take them all on, even if she were a skilled fighter. They'd probably make their way around the building to scout it and find her then. But she was fast. If she waited until they were closer, she might be able to shoot past them. It was risky, but again, she was willing to try it rather than let them catch her.

She waited until most of them were at the building, knocking on the walls, trying to call out the undead. She took several breaths before she rushed out.

"Whoa!"

"What was that!"

Some of the men jumped down from the platform they were on, hurrying towards her. A couple more men jumped down in front of her and she scuttled backwards, tripping over the train tracks, landing on her backpack. Before she knew it, she was surrounded, stuck in a circle of men on the train tracks.

"What do we have here?" Ophelia looked up, her eyes catching a younger man's in a leather jacket and a ragged shirt. He smirked down at her, pleasantly surprised. "Jackpot."

He took a step towards her, reaching, but Ophelia jumped to her feet and smacked his hand away, raising her fists, with her knife clenched in one hand. She wasn't much of a fighter but she be damned if she didn't go down swinging. The man in front of her grinned while the others laughed, hooting and hollering. "Feisty, ain't ya girl! That's alright. Makes you that much more fun to break," he added in a whisper, taking a step towards her.

"Claimed."

Daryl didn't like the way Chet was looking at the girl in between them, nothing in his leer but lust. The girl was trembling but she looked ready to fight, or at least try. He didn't know the girl at all but he couldn't only imagine what Chet would do to her if he did nothing.

Now Chet was glaring at him, gaze fierce. The girl was watching him as well, whiskey colored eyes narrowed. Her hair was just a wild mess of black curls, hanging low over her eyes, her brown skin made even darker by dirt and grime. She had been out here a long time, he could tell, lost and malnourished. There were dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn't slept properly in days. She couldn't have been much younger than him but standing there now, surrounded by all of them, she looked like a kid, terrified and trapped.

Daryl looked over his shoulder at Joe. "That's how it works, right? I called 'claimed'. That means she's mine."

Joe chuckled. "He's got ya there, Chet. Leave the girl be. She belongs to Daryl."

With that, the older man turned, walking back towards the building he decided they would sleep in. After a second, Chet followed, shooting another glare at Daryl as everyone fell in line, entering the building. The girl stayed where she was, knife pointed at him now. He could let her go, tell her to run but he could see some of the men still watching them. They'd kill them both if he didn't get his shit together. Carefully, Daryl walked towards her and held out his hand, waiting. There were angry tears in her eyes as she placed the handle in his open palm. When they got some time alone, he'd explain everything to her but for right now, best to keep up appearances. With his free hand, he gently gripped the back of her neck, leading her after the other men.

By the time the entered the building, filled with old rusted cars, parts and tools, the men had made sure the area was clear. Keeping the girl close to him, Daryl shut the sliding door.

"They ain't here," said a man Daryl believed was called Jack. "Nobody's been here for a while. Whoever was they got all the gas."

"That don't matter," Joe answered. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

With that the men started walking around, moving things out of the way, 'claiming' shit. Daryl kept his hand on the back of the girl's neck as they walked through the room, trying to find a place for them to rest tonight but all the cars were soon claimed. Finally, he settled on a corner rather than a car, laying his stuff down and gesturing for her to do the same.

"This'll be our spot," he told her. She glared down at it before looking back up at him, arms crossed. He nodded towards the door. "I got to take a piss."

She made a disgusted face, but followed him any way as he walked out of the carport, clutching the straps of her backpack. He walked up to a tree and grabbed at his zipper, looking out the corner of his eye as she turned her back, staying within his sights. She could have run but she stood there, waiting. "Name's Daryl."

She didn't speak, unmoving. He couldn't blame her. She didn't understand it yet, but he knew well enough that if he hadn't claimed her for himself, one of the other guys would and she would be worse off. He finished up and turned towards her, crossing his arms as well. "Ya got a name?"

Still no answer.

"Looks like ya been out there alone for a while."

She turned slightly towards him at that, peering at him over her shoulder.

"Yer're safe now," he muttered, taking a step towards her. "Ain't none of them gonna touch ya."

At that, she scoffed, turning fully and meeting his eye. "You took my knife."

Her voice was soft, raspy from what he thought might be a lack of use, but it was a start. "Yea, well, I don't trust ya not to stab me in my sleep."

She took a breath, glaring back towards the carport. "What's this 'claimed' bullshit?"

"It's a rule their leader came up with. Ya claim it, it's yers. No one else can have it. Ya own it."

"You don't own me," she answered quickly, that steely glare back.

"Damn straight I don't," he responded, surprising her. "Don't wantcha either. But yer're lucky. These other guys ain't exactly friendly."

"And you are?" The conversation was strangely reminiscent of the one he had just had with Joe outside the carport.

"I'm the best yer're gonna get out of this bunch." He thought he saw her shiver, looking around the trees. He continued to watch her for a moment, taking in how worn down she looked. He was surprised that she hadn't tried to make a run for it, but he thought she might have realized she wouldn't make it very far. "Where were ya headed?"

She shook her head, squeezing her backpack tighter. "Nowhere."

"Ya got a group out there? People lookin' for ya?"

"I hope not."

Daryl decided not to ask her what she meant, not just yet. He shrugged. "I've got people out there. This group, they ain't mine. We're just headed in the same direction. I got someone I got to find."

The girl in front of him met his eyes again. "That's not an easy thing to do nowadays."

"You lose someone too?"

She hesitated before shaking her head. "We didn't – they were somewhere else. I don't know what's happened to them."

"How long you've been out there alone?"

Quietly, she reached inside that backpack of hers and pulled out what looked like a small notebook. As she flipped through it, Daryl realized it was a pocket calendar. She stopped on a page. "I don't really know what day it is. I took a guess. It feels like October. If that's true, I've been a little over a month. I'm not helpless," she told him, at his quirked eyebrow. "I stayed low, avoided people. I'm resourceful."

"I can tell. . . . Let's head back," he said, gesturing to the carport. He started walking, noticing she wasn't moving. "You comin'?"

"What would happen," she asked as she stuffed her calendar back in her bag, "if I left?"

Daryl stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "They'd probably come after ya. Might beat me up for lettin' ya go. Besides, ya got anywhere ta go?"

The girl hesitated before she followed him. By the time they got back to the carport, everyone had settled down, some of the men asleep in the cars they had claimed while others ate from their stash in corners. Daryl and the girl walked back to their spot where he gestured between the wall and where he planned to lay down. If anyone tried to get to her, they'd have to get past him first. She seemed to understand this, though she moved warily, keeping an eye on him. Finally, she settled down, pulling a blanket from her backpack before settling the bag under her head. "Night."

She didn't respond as first, her back to him but he heard her sigh. "Ophelia."

A slight lift came to the corner of his mouth, as he settled on his back, his bag under his head and his arm over his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me. . . . Christ."

They hadn't been lying down long, Ophelia thought, or at least it hadn't felt like it. She sat up as Daryl did, this scruffy looking man walking towards them, his hand out. "Give it here."

"You step back," Daryl told him, his voice a low warning.

"My half was in the bag," the man said. "Now it's gone. Now ain't nobody around here interested in no half a damn cottontail except you. Ain't that right? You take it so you can share it with that bitch of yours?"

Daryl stood up as the man got closer and Ophelia followed, not quite sure what she would do if these men attacked Daryl. "Yer're the only one still thinkin' about that crap."

"Empty your bag."

"I said step back!" Daryl repeated, grabbing up his stuff.

Ophelia took a stepped back as an older man walked towards them. He eyed Daryl a moment before he snatched away the garbage bag. "Did you take his rabbit, Daryl? Just tell me the truth."

"I didn't take nothin'," Daryl argued.

"What do we got here . . . come on." The old man dumped everything out of the bag, shaking it for show. All of Daryl's things clattered to the ground, including both halves of a dead rabbit. "Well look at that."

Daryl looked up at the other man, his glare fierce. "Ya put that there didn't ya? When I went out to take a piss!"

"You lied," the man said.

"Didn't you?"

"You lied. You stole!" the man pushed Daryl back from him, turning to the older man. "We gonna teach this fool or what, Joe?"

"Whoa, whoa," the old man – Joe – stepped forward between the two man. "Now Daryl says he didn't take your half of the rabbit. So we got a little conundrum here. Either he's lying. Which is an actionable offense or," Joe paused, laughing as he faced the other man, "you didn't plant it on him like some pussy punk ass cheating coward cop, did you? 'Cause while that wouldn't be specifically breaking the rules, it'd be disappointing."

"It would."

"Mhmm."

"I didn't."

"Good." Joe turned towards Daryl after patting the other man on his arm. Ophelia tensed up, realizing that all the other men had gathered around them, preparing herself for the worse. She didn't know Daryl from Adam but, if he got hurt, or worse, where did that leave her? "Well. . . ."

Ophelia jumped as he spun quickly and punched the other man in the face, sending him to the floor. and punches Len sending the man to the floor. "Teach him a lesson gents. He's a lying sack of shit. I'm sick of it. Teach him all the way."

The other men pounced, kicking and punching. Ophelia hovered behind Daryl, not quite sure what to do as her gaze stuck on the men beating the man on the floor. One man's boot came away with blood on it. Joe turned to Daryl, a smirk on his face. "I saw him do it."

"Why didn't you try to stop him?"

"He wanted to play that out. I let him. You told the truth. He lied. You understand the rules. He doesn't." Joe picked up the rabbit, handing it to Daryl. "Looks like you get the head too. Put some meat on her bones," he added, gesturing towards Ophelia.

Daryl kneeled down to pick up his things while Ophelia moved back to her backpack, sitting with her back to the violence. She pulled the beanie from her backpack, pulling it over her head, making her curls cover her ears to block out some of the noise; the hits were starting to sound wet and she was sure she heard something crack.

Something dropped on top of her head and she glanced up to her blanket, now covering her. She could hear Daryl shuffling behind her, laying down. That said a lot, she realized, the fact that he didn't join in, beating this man to death.

Not that that made her trust him any more.

A/N: Soooooo I know. I shouldn't start another story but that's what you get when get plot bunnies. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!