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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 months ago

Text

Words: 5,355

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her

Era: the Whisperers

Warnings: language, blood and gore, injury, typical TWD violence

Summary: Hilltop must cope with the disastrous events outside the walls and Michonne asks Daryl to try and find the mystery woman who saved him and Dog to find out what she knows about the people she calls 'The Shepherds'.

A/N: This is the second part of a series! Find the first part linked below!

Previous Part

“Daryl!” Tara was running up to him and quickly grabbed him into a hug before he’d hardly passed through the gate. The hug was tight and long and Daryl pulled back abruptly to look at her with a question on his face. “We thought you were dead,” she said grimly. It was then that he noticed how pale she looked and that there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

He gulped. “The others. Did they make it back?”

Tara was about to answer when Carol was there also throwing her arms around him, her expression equally grim. When she pulled back, her pale blue eyes were teary. “Did she tell you?” Carol asked. Tara ducked her head.

Daryl’s stomach clenched into a tight knot. “Tell me what?”

“It’s Jesus,” Tara barely managed. “He was killed out there.”

Daryl’s heart dropped into his gut. “Walkers?”

Tara shook her head. “No. Something else.”

Daryl’s hand strayed over to the side of his vest and he felt the bulk of the skin mask there. He withdrew it and held it up, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “One of these fuckers?” he asked, throwing it down on the ground. Dog nosed and pawed at it before bristling.

Tara and Carol stared down at it for a long moment until Tara nodded. “Yeah. One of those, .”

“Yeah, I had my own damn run-in with ‘em. Almost took me and Dog out.” Daryl caught sight of movement over her shoulder and looked up as Michonne stepped out with several strangers at her side.

“You better come in and tell us what happened,” Tara said.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was seated on the edge of his chair. Carol had thrust a big glass of water into his hand and set a tray of food down in front of him. It sat untouched, except for the egg that Daryl had fed to dog.

“Next thing I know, a damn rope ladder dropped down out of the tree. And I didn’t have much choice,” Daryl drawled, turning the glass absently in his hands.

“A ladder?” Aaron asked, incredulous. Daryl nodded.

“Mhm. S’gonna sound nuts but—there was this—this woman. She had platforms built up in this huge oak. I didn’t see anythin’ except the lowest one which was empty, but I think she was livin’ up there. She saved me and Dog by droppin’ that damn ladder down and shootin’ all those walkers and skin freaks besides….”

“You’re telling us a woman living in a tree saved you?” Carol said.

“I said I knew it sounded nuts,” Daryl drawled, sitting heavily back in his chair. “Ain’t even the half of it. I watched her climb up a damn tree branch like it was a set of stairs. No hand or foot-holds, nothin’. She sheltered us there overnight during the storm and then in the mornin’, she came down and gave me food and a thermos full of hot tea,” he said, casting a glance around to read all the perplexed faces.

Michonne’s gaze was intense on his face. “Did she try to question you? About where you came from? About the settlements, our group?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. And she wouldn’t even tell me her name… But she guessed that I had people. And—” he hesitated, thinking about whether or not he should convey that he thought you’d been watching the area and certainly had seen him, but likely others from Hilltop as well. But Carol made the decision for him.

“Wait—your knife,” she said suddenly, the realization striking her. “Was this the same area?”

“What about your knife?” Tara asked, confused. Michonne only seemed more rigid, on edge.

Daryl quickly relayed what had happened in the previous days, about losing his knife and then finding it when he returned to look for it, hanging up and presented for the person who had dropped it. “The arrow it was hanging up on was identical to the ones she used to kill the walkers and the people wearin’ those masks. It had to be her. It wasn’t exactly the same place where I lost my knife but the distance ain’t far.”

“So, she’s been watching the whole area,” Michonne said. “You’re sure she didn’t ask you anything about—”

“No,” Daryl interrupted. “In fact, she seemed pissed off ‘bout the whole thing. Told me off for endin’ up at ‘her tree,’ like I’d had a fuckin’ choice. Said she was gonna have to move. She seemed—I think she knew more ‘bout these Whisperers than she said. She called them ‘The Shepherds’ and told me they walk with the dead. She said they can control them somehow. I tried to ask her more about ‘em but she would hardly talk.”

“How do we know she isn’t one of them?” Michonne said.

Daryl shook his head. “Why would she risk revealin’ herself to me and kill all those walkers and Skin freaks if she was one of them? That dun make any damn sense. No,” he shook his head. “No, she wasn’t with them. If she was, I’d be dead.”

Michonne’s face was stony. “I think we need to find her, question her. If she knows more, she needs to tell us.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “And what if she won’t? We gonna make her?” He looked around at the other stony faces in the room. “My gut says she ain’t the enemy here,” he said emphatically. “She just wanted to be left alone.”

“So do we. But if there’s a threat, it’s better that we know everything we can about it. Jesus is dead. We need to know before someone else dies.” Daryl sighed and his eyes closed for a moment, a grimace passing his face as he thought about Jesus. “’M sorry I wasn’t there with ya’ll,” he gulped in a failed attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Maybe if I was, if I had been then—”

“We all know the risks of going outside the walls,” Aaron interrupted. “Jesus knew them too. And he made his own decisions like the rest of us. He died making sure the rest of us got away.”

There was a heavy silence for a long moment.

“Look, I can probably get us back to the area Dog and I were at. We can try to talk to her if, and tha’s a big if, we can find her,” Daryl said. “But I ain’t gonna be in on any kinda plan to hurt her in order to make her talk to us. Not after she saved me and Dog. She didn’t have to, and for some damn reason she did. I ain’t repayin’ her for that with anythin’ but askin’ nicely.”

Michonne sighed and straightened up. “Fine. It’s a start.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Michonne and Daryl were on edge as they moved through the forest, constantly stopping to listen, straining their hearing, checking behind them. Jesus’ death sat heavy on Daryl’s chest like a concrete block, making moving and even breathing harder than normal. It was a tremendous loss and Hilltop was reeling from it. Tara would do what she could to step up in his place, but there was no replacing him.

Finally, Daryl picked up some tracks that were clearly from part of the large herd that had trapped him and Dog, and not long after they began following them he thought the area looked familiar. His eyes searched the trees. He remembered the silhouette of the large trunk of the oak as the lightning had flashed and tried to hold it in his mind’s eye as he tracked, checking every large tree against this mental image. They never would have found it if it weren’t for the walker tracks…

“This is it,” he said suddenly, putting his hand out to touch the tree and revolving in place. “Yeah. This is the one but—” Something on the ground nearby caught his eyes and he paced over to it as Dog pawed at the corner; a large sheet of plywood. It was far too clean to have been laying on the ground for long and Daryl knew what it meant. You had moved.

Michonne stood beside him, looking down at the find. Daryl stood again and shook his head. “She’s gone,” he asserted.

Michonne glanced up at the canopy overhead. “We have to be sure. Boost me up,” she said, approaching the trunk again.

Daryl joined her and boosted her over his head. She struggled to find a hold for a moment and then her weight left his shoulders. She climbed higher until Daryl could no longer see her among the leaves and branches. “Anythin’?” he called up, as loudly as he dared.

“There are some—some supports left but… nothing else,” she called down. Eventually, her feet reemerged and then she dropped down lightly to the ground.

“She wasn’t kiddin’,” Daryl drawled. “Said she was gonna have to move,” he said.

Michonne hummed an acknowledgement but was distracted, scrutinizing the ground. “You said she had at least a couple levels up there?”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, glancing back up toward the tree. “I only ever saw the first one, but she climbed higher up.”

“Maybe you can find her tracks again. She would have been moving all her things, maybe multiple trips,” she said hopefully.

Daryl ran a hand back through his hair thoughtfully. “Yeah, maybe… I can try, but with all the rain we had overnight, just one set of tracks might’ve already been washed out. Only reason we even got here was followin’ the trampled ground from that herd. Besides, I have a feelin’ she’s good at leavin’ no trace. I mean, she didn’t even leave the bodies here,” Daryl commented, gesturing to the area around the base of the trunk.

“Yeah,” Michonne sighed. “I’m just worried… If there are more of these people out here, we need to know everything we can about them. Alexandria needs to know, and Hilltop too. The Kingdom…” She broke off, thinking back to their last war and hoping there wouldn’t be another.

“I know,” Daryl agreed. “’M worried too.” He paused, wondering if the others had been able to retrieve Jesus’ body yet. “We can at least look around a bit. Maybe we’ll get lucky,” he said.

It was maybe twenty minutes later as they searched the ground for a trace of the mysterious woman when they did, in fact, get lucky. A small group of walkers, maybe six or seven, moved toward them out of the trees. Daryl and Michonne exchanged a glance, both drawing their weapons.

“Let’s see if any of these fucks are the fully conscious kind,” Daryl growled. “Watch their hands.”

“If we find one, keep them alive if you can,” Michonne growled, flicking her sword. “We need to question them.”

The first two fell as regular walkers but the third screamed as Daryl’s bolt pierced its leg. It was immediately fallen upon by others and quickly died under clawing hands and snapping teeth, a dark pool of crimson blooming beneath the bodies. Daryl noticed two more of the figures stumbling toward him suddenly reversing their direction to move away from the feeding zombies. Behind him, Michonne was putting down more of the dead.

One of the figures trying to turn away from the carnage pulled a knife from his sleeve and lunged, but fell quickly with Daryl’s bolt in his head. At the sight of that, the final figure dropped to their knees and pleaded for their life, throwing their knife aside as both Daryl and Michonne advanced on them. Daryl ripped the mask from their face and looked down in surprise at a young teenager, by his guess no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. She trembled and cried behind Michonne’s blade.

More walkers were inbound, and a hasty decision had to be made. They needed answers more than they needed anything, and someone had to be held responsible for Jesus’ death. “We ain’t got time. We’ll take her with us.”

As they hurried away from another approaching herd, a raven called a raspy croak overhead and Daryl saw it streaking away into the woods.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m telling you, man. Your pipes and my accompaniment… we’re gonna be a two-man band at that festival,” Luke said, nearly bouncing on his toes. Alden couldn’t help but laugh. Despite how worried they were about all the others, Luke was a jovial traveling companion. Most of Luke’s group had gone outside the walls and had not yet returned, and the two of them felt unable to just sit around and wait... Surely, something had happened and their friends needed help.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Alden said. “You haven’t even heard me yet. For all you know, I’m terrible,” he joked.

“No, no, no… I don’t think so,” Luke smiled. “I’ve got a good feeling about this collaboration!” He glanced ahead. “There’s another one of Yumiko’s arrows,” he remarked, nodding toward a tree up ahead, an arrow shaft clearly visible protruding from the trunk. The two men moved closer but stopped short when they caught sight of a figure up ahead, a lone walker. Both of them readied their weapons. “I’ll get it,” Luke said, his weapon in hand.

But the ambling walker was suddenly… not. It froze. It stood completely still. Luke and Alden stopped too. They exchanged a perplexed glance. “That’s… weird,” Luke commented softly. He was about to ask if Alden had ever seen a walker not moving before.

Then, a stick broke to their left. Another figure appeared. Another crack on their right, then behind… More figures emerged through the brush and they all stood still. It was then that they realized the first was holding a bundle of arrows, the same ones Luke had assumed were Yumiko’s. They’d walked right into a trap and they were surrounded. There was no escape.

With no other options, Luke and Alden were forced to drop their weapons. Held in place by several men, the initial figure approached, masked in a sickening skin with scraggly white-blond hair. When she spoke, her voice was soft but dangerous.

“Bind their hands. Gag their mouths,” she urged, swaying slightly on her feet. “We keep them alive until we know about the girl. I’m going to see the others. I’ll return. Do not let them escape or your blood will be spilled.” Her tone was commanding but also matter-of-fact.

“Yes, Alpha,” the other masked figures replied. Alden and Luke watched as she disappeared into the trees again. They were bound and gagged and shoved to the forest floor to sit uncomfortably against a couple trees, able to only exchange fearful glances.

Dusk fell and the shadows lengthened. They were watched through the eyes of grotesque masks as the figures paced around them keeping guard. Their hands and fingers were cold from the tightness of their bonds and their shoulders ached and burned.

Two of the figures stopped next to each other and whispered for a moment before one of them disappeared farther into the brush. Bathroom break, Luke thought wryly. And despite his fear, he registered his need to do the same soon, but he didn’t dare make a sound. He glanced toward Alden who seemed to be staring straight ahead into the gathering darkness. Luke tried to work his hands up and down, trying to loosen the bindings on his wrists, but they were too tight. The backs of his hands burned from the friction. He let out a heavy exhale and tried to stay calm. Maybe the others were still out here… or maybe they were now looking for him and Alden. If they could just stay alive long enough, surely they’d—

Swoosh and then a dull thunk.

A muffled sound of surprise escaped him and Alden at the same time. Luke recoiled farther into the tree behind him as he watched the masked Whisperer who’d been guarding them drop to the ground with a thick arrow shaft in their head. It was tipped with inky black feathers.

He and Alden looked at each other with wide, shocked eyes. What the hell?

There was a rushing sound as the other guard returned through the brush. Before they could even reach the body of the fallen, they too were struck with a deadly shot in their forehead. Luke’s chest was heaving with confusion and fear. Alden was trying to push himself forward so he could get onto his knees and perhaps stand up. Suddenly, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and began to hiss in his ear.

“Move again and I’ll stick a knife in your knee.” Alden retracted from the breath on his ear and the bony fingers gripping him. “What—no!” the voice gasped. They had noticed the bodies.

They pulled a knife and straightened up, glancing around frantically, baring their teeth inside the mask like an animal. They grabbed Alden’s hair and pulled him to his feet, placing their blade at his neck. “Come out! Come outtttt! Or I’ll slit this one’s throat!” Somehow their voice still had the raspy quality of a whisper but it seemed to echo in the trees. A thick silence fell. For a moment, the was neither call of a bird or hum of an insect. The wind in the treetops was still. The trees seemed to be listening. The leaves held their breath. Then, in the distance, Luke and Alden heard the flap of wings and the rush of air beneath them clearly as if magnified by the silence that had fallen over the woods. The throaty croak of a raven called three times.

Swoosh and thunk. The figure’s grip on Alden disappeared and he jerked backwards away from it as it fell with another black-feathered arrow. This one, however, had struck in the neck, too low for an instant kill. The figure writhed and rasped in agony on the ground, the echoes of their cries bouncing off the tree and sounding deafening in the previous calm.

That’s when you dropped down from your perch in the trees above. Luke and Alden watched in shock as a figure, cloaked and hooded in black with a bow in one hand, produced a knife in the other and swiftly stabbed the struggling Whisperer in the base of the skull, silencing and stilling them.

You quickly threw back your hood and looked at Alden first, heading toward him and untying and pulling the gag down from his mouth. He gasped in hurried breaths. You could feel him shaking as you cut and untied the cord around his wrists. Luke looked on, dumbstruck. Alden rubbed his wrists and glanced around, expecting more of those masked freaks to step out from the trees at any moment.

The same thing was clearly on your mind as you rushed to Luke, saying, “That last one was loud. You better get out of here before more show up.”

You cut Luke’s bonds and he pulled the gag down out of his mouth, his jaw dropping open as he turned to stare at you, still dumbfounded. “Who—who the hell are you?” he asked, watching you quickly collect your arrows. They made sickening squelching noises as you pulled them from the skulls of the fallen Whisperers.

You ignored the question and hastily wiped the gore off the arrow heads onto your pants, glancing around anxiously. Stowing your arrows, you looked back at Alden. “You need to go,” you said again.

“Go where?” Alden said. “We don’t even know where we are.”

A raven called again overhead and then in a dark blur came fluttering down to hover over you. Looking up, you held your hand out and it dropped something into your palm before taking off again with a peculiar bubbling sound. Alden and Luke exchanged yet another mystified look.

“Great,” you murmured to yourself, tossing what the bird had dropped into your palm down onto the ground. It was an ear, clearly from a walker. “There are more dead coming. Probably with Shepherds.” You spun your knife skillfully in your hand and glanced at the two men. “I can get you to the old highway, but that’s as far as I go. Come on.”

“Shepherds?” Luke repeated, but you simply plunged off into the trees, drawing your dark hood over your head again.

“Wait—” Alden urged, hurrying after you. Luke was on his heels. “Wait! You aren’t even gonna tell us your name?”

“No,” you said in a hushed voice, “and be quiet.”

Luke took a succession of quick steps to come to your other side. “Listen, uh—you just might’ve saved our lives back there. I’m Luke. This is Alden,” he said. “That’s—that’s a neat trick you’ve got there with your—your crow pal,” he said, laughing nervously. He could feel the adrenaline and endorphins rushing through him, making him anxious and jittery.

“Raven,” you corrected him with a mere sideways glance.

“Oh. Right. Raven,” Luke said. “Sorry.”

You charged ahead into the brush again and the two men struggled to keep up. It seemed that walking through this landscape and the dense vegetation, rife with obstacles, was second-nature to you.

The feeling was still coming back into his fingers, but Alden looked around for a makeshift weapon. He seized a dried pine limb with a sharp, broken end and tested its strength over his knee. Good enough. Luke followed his lead and selected a sturdy branch as well.

You’d barely been leading them toward the highway for more than two minutes when you heard another sound overhead; a shrill alarm call from your raven that you knew all too well. You froze. Luke nearly ran into your back from the sudden stop. You strained your hearing for a long moment… There. You heard rustling to your left and growling. “More here.” you said. “The dead and maybe Shepherds. Get ready,” you said.

You readied an arrow on your bow and charged forward toward the sound, crouching behind a fallen tree to conceal yourself until the moment was right. Alden and Luke followed more clumsily and far less silently.

Peering between the branches, you finally saw them approaching. Alpha was at the lead, followed by maybe six or seven others. She was unmistakable in her gruesome mask with scraggly pale hair. The rest of them? Dead or living, you couldn’t be sure. You pulled in a slow breath, stood, and bent your bow. Alpha was obstructed behind a large pine trunk. The first arrow dropped a figure to the ground and several of the dead stumbled over it before bending to feed. Alpha and two Whisperers wearing masks withdrew knives. Her followers huddled around her. You bent your bow again and let an arrow fly. It struck one of the living in the chest and they screamed as they fell in a heap. Alpha turned and thrust her knife into their throat, silencing them. She stared into the dark trees ahead, swaying slightly on her feet, her large blade glinting in the low light.

She gestured to the other Whisperer and they began to move forward again. You were readying another arrow when there was the distinct sound of many moving through brush to the left. Alden turned and saw more dead inbound. “Fuck,” you swore under your breath. You had to take your eyes off Alpha and fired a shot at the walker in the lead. More stumbled forward… many more. “Get ready,” you said again to Luke and Alden. As you glanced back toward the other group, there was no sign of Alpha. You fired shot after shot into the advancing dead, not missing your mark once, but finally, when you reached back for another arrow, your hand grasped at air. Your quiver was empty. You withdrew your knife again and nodded to the men. Alden leapt forward and thrust the sharp end of his pine branch into the face of the walker in the lead. “Watch their hands!” you cautioned the men, thrusting your knife into the forehead of another. Luke swung his branch like a baseball bat and knocked another to the ground before smashing it’s head in with the blunt end.

You were about to lunge again at a snarling dead one when another behind it suddenly stepped forward with a blade raised. You ducked their thrust and kicked hard at the side of their leg. They crumpled to the ground with a cry and the dead fell on them. You stabbed your knife into two more of the dead, wincing as a spray of blood landed across your neck as you withdrew. Alden and Luke were both still fighting behind you. You turned to join them but were caught off guard when someone kicked you hard in the center of your back. You fell forward onto the cushion of pine needles and your knife tumbled away into the litter.

Hurriedly rolling over you saw Alpha standing over you, one of her followers at her side. She cocked her head and you saw her smiling behind the mask. “Looks like you dropped your knife. That’s a shame,” she said, her voice sweet like poisoned honey.

You scrambled back on your hands, glancing over your shoulder, hoping to see your knife reflecting the moonlight, but it was too dark. The shadows swallowed nearly everything. Your right hand groped for a stick, anything, to wield as she advanced on you slowly, calmly.

Your fingers hit something cold and hard; a stone. You grasped it, your chest heaving.

You jumped to your feet and waited for the right moment. Alpha and her follower were still fixed on you, but behind them you saw Alden put down the last walker. Luke nudged him and the two of them began sneaking up behind your adversaries.

Suddenly, Alpha sprung toward you with her knife. You reflexively jumped back and it barely missed your stomach. She swept it toward you again and you dodged, but she was relentless. You threw up an arm to block another quick attack and felt the blade cut deeply into your forearm. You let out a cry of pain and stumbled to the side, away from her.

“Hey!” Alden yelled, raising his pine branch.

Alpha didn’t even turn to look, her eyes still fixed on you. “Take care of those two. This one is mine,” she growled. Her follower spun to face the men and was soon engaged in fighting with them. Alpha continued to advance and you stepped back slowly, the stone still in your hand. You could feel the warm wetness of blood running down your arm and soaking your sleeve. Alpha lunged again, raising her knife and you deflected the blow to the side, taking the opportunity to smash the side of her face with the stone, knocking her to the ground but smashing the tip one of your own fingers at the same time. She fell sideways and was stunned for a moment as you straightened up, staggering backwards. You felt your boot hit something and you looked down to see your knife underfoot.

“Yes,” you gasped, reaching down. You fingers closed around the handle and then—something sharp and cold pierced your side and sunk in. You let out a pained gasp, all the breath leaving your body in a rush of air. You were suddenly on the flat of your back again and looked down to see her knife sticking out of your right side. She’d thrown it as you bent to retrieve your own.

You heard her laughing and looked up to see her stumbling toward you, still somewhat unsteady after the blow from the stone but determined. She was within two feet of you when a streak blacker than night hit her in the head from behind and clawed at her mask. There was a raucous screeching and flapping as your raven divebombed her and struck her on the head. The shiny black peak pecked into her mask, reaching her face with the sharp bill.

While she was distracted by your bird, you gritted your teeth and stood with a tremendous effort, the knife still protruding from your side. As soon as you were on your feet, your raven disappeared again into the trees. Behind Alpha, you saw that Alden and Luke had dealt with the final Whisperer and were both advancing on her from behind and you smiled through your pain. She didn’t have a weapon now and it was three against one, despite the knife in your side. “You’re surrounded,” you said. You adjusted your grip on your own knife. The handle was slippery from the blood running down your arm. You blinked to clear the slight blur in your vision.

Alpha glanced back over her shoulder briefly before meeting your eyes again. You were hunched over from the pain and she simply smiled. “You’re dead,” she said softly. “And I’d really like to have my knife back.”

“Fuck you,” you growled, suddenly throwing the stone from your non-dominant hand and hitting her hard in the chest. She gasped and staggered back slightly and you rushed forward, raising your knife, aiming for her chest. But you were weak from the pain in your side and she grabbed your wrist as you tried to bring down the blade. The two of you struggled with it overhead. You cried out as the effort sent white-hot jagged bolts of pain through your body. Alpha was stronger than you in that moment and she redirected your struggle down to her side. She thrust a knee up into your stomach hard, paralyzing your lungs and stunning you. You still had hold of your knife but before you could respond, you felt another searing, blinding bolt of pain as she gripped the handle of her own knife and tugged it, ripped it from your body. You fell forward onto your hands and knees and then pressed a hand over the wound on your side. You felt that your clothing as soaked with blood and your hand came away wet and sticky, the crimson appearing black in the low light. Where were Alden and Luke? Why weren’t they helping you? Your gaze lifted to see that they were fighting with another wave of the dead that had wandered in while you were all distracted.

You gasped again as Alpha kicked her boot into your ribs and sent you rolling to the side. You came to rest on your back, trying to pull in air. You looked up to see her rushing you and you summoned the last bit of fight and effort you had and threw all your bodyweight behind your knife and sunk it into her thigh before she could bring hers down on you.

She let out a scream of agony followed by a low growl, whirling and staggering back. The look she gave you through her mask was utter contempt and rage. You tried in vain to get your muscles to hold your weight, to get up, to do something…. But they wouldn’t cooperate. Alpha was standing over you again, limping on her injured leg. The last thing you saw was her boot aiming for your face. You managed to turn your head to the side just before it connected but then everything went black…

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