Daryl sat there for several minutes before remembering his legs and feet were no longer bound together. His face hurt, but he didn't think anything hurt more than his pride. But even with a bruised ego, Daryl still wanted the girl. He stood up and stretched. His body ached, as well as his head, from the days and days of walking and malnutrition. Slinging the crossbow over his back he went looking for his hunting knife.

It wasn't in any of his pockets. He found his bag and ruffled through its contents. Everything was there, with the exception of the squirrels he had killed along his way, but no knife. Irritated, he tossed the bag onto the old dusty couch and sauntered off to look for Ana.

He found her, sitting outside by the creekbed, her bottom on the grass and her feet in the water, wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Her body gleamed with sweat in the sunlight as she tirelessly scrubbed some clothes clean against a rock. Daryl heard her muttering to herself, cursing about blood stains and how she would give anything for a bottle of bleach. Daryl started to make his presence known, but realized she was unaware of him standing a few yards behind her and decided to just stay back and observe her for a few.

It had been so long since he had seen a woman, well, it had been a while since he had seen a live one. He marveled at how dark her skin was and how her long brown hair flowed over her back like a waterfall. The sight of her started making him hard again as she paused to pull her hair back in a ponytail, exposing the back of her neck and the top half of her back. She had a tattoo on her left shoulder blade, the name "Donovan". Probably an old lover, Daryl thought to himself. He followed a bead of sweat as it traveled down her back and disappeared behind the back of her panties. The tightness in his pants was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for him so reluctantly he tore his eyes away from her and cleared his throat to make his presence known.

Ana turned quickly towards the sound and saw Daryl standing there, awkwardly, his face was blood red and was staring down at the ground. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, why are all men such horn balls? She thought. "What?" She asked impatiently.

Daryl mumbled something in response but never looked back up from his feet.

"Dude, I can't hear you." Ana said, her impatience growing bigger and bigger.

"Where's my knife?"

"Oh." She stood up and started searching the pockets of her pants which were lying on the ground, giving Daryl a perfect view of her backside. Finally she stood up with the knife in her hands and tossed it to him. It stuck into the ground at his feet. Daryl bent down to retrieve it from the ground and by the time he stood back up, Ana was already sitting back down, washing her shirt in the creek. "Thank you." He said quietly, stuffing the knife back into his pocket.

"Take off your clothes." Ana demanded, not looking away from her own washing.

"Excuse me?" Daryl stared in bewilderment at the persistence of this girl.

"You're filthy. You could use a washing. Take off your clothes, sit with me and wash them."

Daryl thought for a moment and realized that a washing would be nice. He walked over to Ana, slipped his shoes off and tossed them to the side. He then slipped the crossbow off his back and gently sat it on the ground and began to take his shirt off. He sat down with his feet in the water next to her and started dipping his shirt in and out of the creek.

"What about your pants?"

"Going commando." Daryl replied, a bit embarrassed.

Ana didn't respond, instead she wrung her shirt out as best as she could and layed it out on a rock to let it dry in the sun. She started in on her pants then, remaining silent.

"So, what's your story?" Daryl asked as he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"I was alive when the world went to shit and I'm alive after. What else do you need to know?" She paused long enough to look up at him. She caught a slight glimpse of Daryl's scars on his back. He quickly readjusted himself so she couldn't see anymore. "It's okay." Ana began, "we all have scars." She reached out her hand to show a large scar right above her left wrist. Daryl stared at it for a moment and mumbled, "Sorry."

"Don't be, I did it to myself. If I had known this would have been what my life would have turned out as, I would have made sure I did it the right way." She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and continued to beat her clothes against a rock. Daryl wrung out his own shirt and placed it on the rock next to her's to dry.

"You hungry?" Ana asked him.

"I could eat. Had a few squirrels in my bag when I showed up, they're gone now though."

"I skinned and cleaned them. Only thing to do now is cook 'em." Ana said, proudly. Ana stood up and threw her wet pants onto another rock to dry. Daryl watched as she sauntered past him. She stopped a few yards away and started arranging twigs and dried grass for a small camp fire. It took everything he had in him not jump up and run after her, take her in his arms from behind and do every ungodly thing imaginable to her. He switched his attention back to his laundry and did his best to think of anything else.