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: 

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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.

She took her usual spot beside Carol, absently picking at her food and drumming her fingers on the table. To her annoyance, Maggie brought up the run, but she didn't mention the grand finale. People smiled and looked at Maggie and Glenn in amazement, longing for such an adventure to tell of their own. 

"What about you, Presley?" Stefan asked, eyes curious. "Any great things to tell us? Any good finds."

Presley admired her chipped spoon. "Well, I did find a jar of crunchy peanutbutter." She said, avoiding Stefan's gaze. "And to me, that was a pretty damn good find." A few people at the table chuckled, and Carol patted her shoulder.

Supper came and went. Presley managed to eat half her food and dodge most of the questions from the people whom had stayed home, only answering with as much detail as she had to. She picked at her nails as she strode down the hall, nearly running into a figure. Daryl. She looked up at him, wincing under the cold gaze of his narrowed eyes. 

"What crawled up your ass?" She muttered, trying to side step and go around him, but Daryl stopped her. This seemed to be an endless cycle with the two of them. Zeva, much to Presley's surprise, actually walked right past the two of him. Presley pursed her lips. Traitor. She was tempted to spit, but the dog couldn't understand and Daryl would likely... Well, God only knew that Daryl would do.

"Ye need to get a grasp on life, Scott." Daryl suddenly spat. She recoiled, wincing when he threw his hands up in the air. "Life is not somethin' ye can just throw away, especially not now. Every damn life is precious, and you threw it away, for about no reason at all." He continued, ranting and continuing to throw his hands around. She flinched every time. "This group, we tend ta get attached to people. We care 'bout ye." 

"You know Daryl, I am beginning to think that it's not them who care about me, it's you." She said quietly. Daryl's face altered angrily, and he threw his hands up again, only in frustration... but not to Presley. She flinched and pulled an arm up, as if to shield her face from his blow... but it never came. She opened her eyes, peeking up at him, only to find him looking at her in horror.

And pain.

"Ye thought I..." He shook his head, raking a hand fiercly through his hair. 

"No, Daryl." Presley said, reaching for him, but he reeled back, rejecting her touch.

"Ye thought I was gonna hit ye, didn't ye?" He said, his voice more soft and quieter than she had ever heard it. He took her silence as a yes. "I thought ye actually saw me as a person, Pres, and not some... Some monster. Not just a person who kills or hurts... Like ta rest of em see me."

"Daryl, you have it all wrong." She protested desperately, reaching forward and grasping his arm. He wrenched himself out of her grip, shaking his head and turning away.

"No, I see it now. You see me like they do..." He said, shaking his head and leaving a dumbfounded Presley alone. 

- - -

The next few days proved to be awkward and a bit unnerving for both Daryl and Presley. They continued to avoid eachother, Daryl constantly being outside the fences, and Presley at the fence killing roamers. Every day the group feared for another attack from the Governor, but it never came. Everything was at peace... For now, anyways.

Presley sat on the edge of the watch tower, her legs dangling over the edge. The wind tostled her hair, which was once again left down and free around her shoulders. A large sniper was laid out across her lap, making her look more dangerous than she really probably was. The sun was at it's peak, casting yellow rays over the Earth from the top of the sky.

She felt at peace. That night was one of the few nights that she almost forgot everything. She could hear Zeva's breathing behind her, and that was the only sound of a companion that she wanted to hear. The wind whistled as it blew, creating a tune that the trees swayed along to. 

Those few moments were almost great enough for her to forget everything-

almost. 

It'd happened weeks ago, but it felt like only hours ago. Just thinking about it made the place between her legs burn, the rough feeling of his hands on her body replayed in her mind, over and over. Her hatred for the Governor bubbled and outraged her. If he were in front of her, she would shoot him in the head without batting an eye. 

Her eyes peeled open when she heard quick footsteps up the stairs. Energy. Energy was something that she lacked at the moment, and felt an instant bubble of hatred towards the person who had enough energy to actually run up the stairs. She twisted, catching the blue eyes of Carl. He was a handsome young boy, even though his boots were worn and his flannel shirt was a bit too big. Yes, handsome was a good word to describe him. Young and fresh, but Carl was anything but oblivious. While he had yet to see some of the horrors that she had, he had still seen quite enough for his lifetime.

More than enough for an entire lifetime... But that was the way of the old life. Now, you can't hide the horrors of life from your children. You had to teach them how to embrace it. You just didn't see sweet little kids running around anymore. They had to know what was going on in the world and understand why you couldn't play out in the yard anymore.

Shaking her head, Presley turned and looked back out across the prison as Carl sat beside her, leaning against the bar in front of him. "Don't fall." She said without looking at him. 

"I'll just say you pushed me." He teased, earning a small shove from Presley. Together they sat in comfortable silence. 

"Glenn said you risked your life for us... Again." Carl said finally. He almost sounded relieved to put the words out there. Presley frowned, lines appearing on her milky skin. She glanced at Carl, simply shaking her head. "Don't like, Pres. I know it's true... But why do you do it? I mean, no matter how hard I try..." He shook his head in frustration. "I'm just not brave, and I don't understand how you can be."

"There are different types of brave, little-c." She said, ruffling his hair as a friendly gesture. "My brave isn't the same as Maggie's brave, or even Glenn's. They have people they have to live for, to survive for. They keep each other alive by keeping themselves alive. They fight to ensure the safety of their loved ones." Presley said, dangling her arms over the bar in front of her. She turned her head to face him. "That's the kind of brave you want to be."

"Than what are you?" He asked, confused. "Because I know that you're brave."

Presley thought for a minute. "Some people are brave because they have something to live for." She said softly. "And some people are brave because they have something to die for." 

The silence that molded the air between them became heavy. Carl looked at Presley, trying to comprehend her deep words and understand her meaning. It took him a while, but he did come to understand what Presley meant. 

He didn't figure it out that day, that week, or even that month.

It took an impact for him to realize exactly what she meant, but once he realized it, he did realize that Presley wasn't anything like them. She was different, and her life fell in the category of brave, but not the sort of bravery everybody else fell in. 

- - - 

Sorry if this chapter is confusing. 

It'll all add up... Some day, some week, some month... Not today, though. xD

You'll have to be pretty gosh darn clever to figure out what all this meant. I would love to see what ya'll think it is, so go ahead and comment below. c:

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