Walking Dead Fanfic: "Wanderer"
2nd of 5 unconnected ficlets for tv_universe's "Quotables" challenge.
Title: Wanderer
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Daryl/Glenn, Rick, Shane
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1480
Summary: Written for this prompt - "Not all those who wander are lost." (JRR Tolkien)
Notes: Alternate scenario for Episode 201
Wanderer
by Severina
Glenn failed orienteering when he was briefly in the Boy Scouts and he's already been yelled at once by Daryl for tromping on the trail Sophia left behind, but he still follows gamely along when Daryl starts leading them away from the stream and into the forest. Daryl steps as lightly as a deer, and Rick and Shane don't do too badly, but if there's a branch to step on, Glenn steps on it. If there's a bush to brush against, Glenn brushes against it. He winces at every crack and rustle, but Daryl's eyes remain intent on the ground and he doesn't say a word. Glenn makes a mental note to get the guy to teach him this native-american/ninja crap if they find Sophia.
When, he amends silently. When they find Sophia.
He's keeping half an eye on their back trail in case any of the walkers from the interstate have made their way down into the woods when Daryl stops abruptly. He straightens his back but keeps his eyes on the ground, frowning down at the earth and scrubbing at his chin. "Don't make no sense," Daryl mutters.
He sees Rick exchange a wary glance with Shane before stepping up, like Daryl's some kind of wild animal they have to approach with caution. "What is it?" he asks.
Daryl glances up like he's forgotten the other men are even there. "Tracks just end, right about here," Daryl says, pointing a dirty finger at the loose, damp soil at the base of one of the trees. Glenn looks down - they all do - but all he can see is grass and dirt, the same grass and dirt he's been looking at for the past thirty minutes. Nothing to indicate to him that a little girl ever passed this way.
"You lost the trail," Shane says dryly.
"Didn't lose it," Daryl snaps back. "Ain't nothin' to lose. It just stops."
Glenn straightens, pushes his hat back on his head and scans the surrounding woods. Nothing moving now, but they all know how fast that can change. He sighs. He hates to suggest it, hates to even consider going back to the RV with the news, but he has to say it. "Maybe a walker-"
"Nah," Daryl interrupts. "No other tracks, human or animal, not anywhere around here. No scat. Nothin'."
"A little girl can't just disappear, Dixon," Shane bristles.
Glenn frowns when Rick holds up a hand, like he thinks Daryl's going to go off on Shane any minute. And fine, there is a precedent set for Daryl being a bit of a hothead. But Glenn just has to look at the man's face to know that Shane Walsh is the last thing on Daryl's mind. In fact, Daryl's eyes barely flick to Shane's before he takes a couple of steps into the clearing. And when he brushes against Glenn, Glenn can't help feeling a little surge of electricity, a little spark dancing between their bodies. He knows it's wrong - not the spark, the spark is right and amazing and totally worth investigating later - but thinking about how he'd really, really like to see Daryl without his shirt on when he should be concentrating on finding a missing girl? That's the wrong part.
Glenn shakes his head, re-sets his grip on the fireplace poker in his hand and watches Daryl turn a small circuit of the clearing.
"Didn't keep goin' forward," Daryl mumbles, before looking over his shoulder, squinting in the sunlight filtering through the trees. "Mighta doubled back, tryin' to keep the sun on her left shoulder like she was told, but-"
"Maybe she saw something," Glenn suggests haltingly. "Something that made her retrace her steps."
"A walker," Shane says firmly.
"Maybe," Daryl says. He lifts his head, sniffs at the air, looks up at the towering branches. "Or maybe she smelled somethin'. You smell that?"
Rick exchanges another glance with Shane, raises an eyebrow at Glenn. Glenn shakes his head. He smells green, growing things, a strong, pungent aroma that is nothing like the pine-tree-shaped "forest scent" air freshener he used to have hanging in his little Subaru.
"All I smell," Rick says, "is a bunch of bodies that could use a healthy dose of Speed Stick."
Daryl makes a face. "City folk," he grunts out before turning his attention to the tree itself, fingers tracing over the thick bark. He moves slowly around the massive trunk, hunkering down, his eyes flitting quickly over the surface.
"Oh for Christ-we're wastin' time!" Shane snaps. "Lemme tell you somethin', all right? We ain't gonna find that little girl by standing around in the forest looking at the damn trees. We're gonna find her by spreading out and beatin' the bush before the sun goes down and we lose all the damn daylight!"
"Yeah, you keep talkin'," Daryl says, straightening his back and pointing to a spot on the trunk about a foot of the ground. "There," he says before moving his hand slightly higher, "and there."
Glenn steps forward, presses close enough that his nose is practically touching the tree. He sees gnarled bark, some moss, and a couple of ants trundling along on their merry ant-business. He glances at Rick, who looks just as confused as he does, then back to Daryl. "What are we looking at, exactly?"
"Toe holds," Daryl says. "Sophia dug in with her sneakers, there. She didn't keep goin' and she didn't turn back. She went up."
As one, all four of the men crane their heads to see into the top branches of the towering tree. "Why… why would she do that?" Glenn asks.
"Smelled the same thing I'm smellin'," Daryl says. He flings his crossbow onto his back, and Glenn finds he has to brace himself when Daryl slaps a hand on his shoulder to use him as leverage as he grabs for the nearest branch and swings himself up. Glenn staggers a little and then the weight is gone, Daryl already disappearing into the foliage as he scrambles up the trunk. Glenn shades his eyes, winces and tries to follow the other man's progress as he climbs. He's always had an overactive imagination - one of the reasons he failed orienteering all those years ago is that he was too busy checking the ground for the poisonous snakes he was sure were lurking under every rock to pay much attention to his stupid compass. Now Glenn has visions of Daryl losing his footing, crashing through branches to falls back to the ground with a sickening, bone-breaking thud. He doesn't breathe properly until Daryl's back on firm ground.
"Cabin," Daryl says, "couple of hundred yards to the southeast. Got a fire goin', smoke coming from the chimney. My best guess? She went that way."
"Okay," Shane says. "Say she did go up. Say she did smell that fire and climb that tree to check it out. Where's the tracks from when she came back down, smart guy?"
Daryl opens his mouth, closes it again.
Glenn feels a sudden surge of anger at Shane for putting that look of indecision on Daryl's face. "Think she could've moved from branch to branch, from tree to tree?" Glenn suggests.
"Might've," Daryl answers, scrubbing again at his straggle of a beard, "if she's part monkey."
"I have a child," Rick says. "Believe me, they're all part monkey."
"Well all right then. Guess not all those who wander are lost," he says. He juts his chin, swings his crossbow back into firing position and starts out. "C'mon, it's this way."
Rick cocks his head. "Never figured you for a reader, Daryl."
Daryl squints back over his shoulder. "Lots of shit you don't know about me," he says.
And when his eyes flick to Glenn before he ducks his head and continues leading the way, Glenn would swear that he's blushing.
* * *
Sophia runs to Rick, crushing herself against his chest and babbling about the sunlight and the walkers. The two children with her in the cabin are younger than she is, dirtier than she is. They don't know how long it's been since their mother left to find food for them and didn't return.
Shane holds the little girl's hand as they troop back through the woods, and somehow the little boy ends up perched on Daryl's shoulders. Glenn falls into step beside them, nudges Daryl with his shoulder. "So, he says, "I may have been president of the JRR Tolkien fan club in high school. Just sayin'."
Daryl snorts. "Read the books, but I ain't no nerd."
"Still, it's something we have in common," Glenn says. "Tolkien fans should stick together."
Daryl shakes his head, but he nudges him back. And this time when their shoulders brush, Glenn again feels that spark. He meets Daryl's eyes, knows Daryl feels it too.
It's a start.
.
Title: Wanderer
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Daryl/Glenn, Rick, Shane
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1480
Summary: Written for this prompt - "Not all those who wander are lost." (JRR Tolkien)
Notes: Alternate scenario for Episode 201
Wanderer
by Severina
Glenn failed orienteering when he was briefly in the Boy Scouts and he's already been yelled at once by Daryl for tromping on the trail Sophia left behind, but he still follows gamely along when Daryl starts leading them away from the stream and into the forest. Daryl steps as lightly as a deer, and Rick and Shane don't do too badly, but if there's a branch to step on, Glenn steps on it. If there's a bush to brush against, Glenn brushes against it. He winces at every crack and rustle, but Daryl's eyes remain intent on the ground and he doesn't say a word. Glenn makes a mental note to get the guy to teach him this native-american/ninja crap if they find Sophia.
When, he amends silently. When they find Sophia.
He's keeping half an eye on their back trail in case any of the walkers from the interstate have made their way down into the woods when Daryl stops abruptly. He straightens his back but keeps his eyes on the ground, frowning down at the earth and scrubbing at his chin. "Don't make no sense," Daryl mutters.
He sees Rick exchange a wary glance with Shane before stepping up, like Daryl's some kind of wild animal they have to approach with caution. "What is it?" he asks.
Daryl glances up like he's forgotten the other men are even there. "Tracks just end, right about here," Daryl says, pointing a dirty finger at the loose, damp soil at the base of one of the trees. Glenn looks down - they all do - but all he can see is grass and dirt, the same grass and dirt he's been looking at for the past thirty minutes. Nothing to indicate to him that a little girl ever passed this way.
"You lost the trail," Shane says dryly.
"Didn't lose it," Daryl snaps back. "Ain't nothin' to lose. It just stops."
Glenn straightens, pushes his hat back on his head and scans the surrounding woods. Nothing moving now, but they all know how fast that can change. He sighs. He hates to suggest it, hates to even consider going back to the RV with the news, but he has to say it. "Maybe a walker-"
"Nah," Daryl interrupts. "No other tracks, human or animal, not anywhere around here. No scat. Nothin'."
"A little girl can't just disappear, Dixon," Shane bristles.
Glenn frowns when Rick holds up a hand, like he thinks Daryl's going to go off on Shane any minute. And fine, there is a precedent set for Daryl being a bit of a hothead. But Glenn just has to look at the man's face to know that Shane Walsh is the last thing on Daryl's mind. In fact, Daryl's eyes barely flick to Shane's before he takes a couple of steps into the clearing. And when he brushes against Glenn, Glenn can't help feeling a little surge of electricity, a little spark dancing between their bodies. He knows it's wrong - not the spark, the spark is right and amazing and totally worth investigating later - but thinking about how he'd really, really like to see Daryl without his shirt on when he should be concentrating on finding a missing girl? That's the wrong part.
Glenn shakes his head, re-sets his grip on the fireplace poker in his hand and watches Daryl turn a small circuit of the clearing.
"Didn't keep goin' forward," Daryl mumbles, before looking over his shoulder, squinting in the sunlight filtering through the trees. "Mighta doubled back, tryin' to keep the sun on her left shoulder like she was told, but-"
"Maybe she saw something," Glenn suggests haltingly. "Something that made her retrace her steps."
"A walker," Shane says firmly.
"Maybe," Daryl says. He lifts his head, sniffs at the air, looks up at the towering branches. "Or maybe she smelled somethin'. You smell that?"
Rick exchanges another glance with Shane, raises an eyebrow at Glenn. Glenn shakes his head. He smells green, growing things, a strong, pungent aroma that is nothing like the pine-tree-shaped "forest scent" air freshener he used to have hanging in his little Subaru.
"All I smell," Rick says, "is a bunch of bodies that could use a healthy dose of Speed Stick."
Daryl makes a face. "City folk," he grunts out before turning his attention to the tree itself, fingers tracing over the thick bark. He moves slowly around the massive trunk, hunkering down, his eyes flitting quickly over the surface.
"Oh for Christ-we're wastin' time!" Shane snaps. "Lemme tell you somethin', all right? We ain't gonna find that little girl by standing around in the forest looking at the damn trees. We're gonna find her by spreading out and beatin' the bush before the sun goes down and we lose all the damn daylight!"
"Yeah, you keep talkin'," Daryl says, straightening his back and pointing to a spot on the trunk about a foot of the ground. "There," he says before moving his hand slightly higher, "and there."
Glenn steps forward, presses close enough that his nose is practically touching the tree. He sees gnarled bark, some moss, and a couple of ants trundling along on their merry ant-business. He glances at Rick, who looks just as confused as he does, then back to Daryl. "What are we looking at, exactly?"
"Toe holds," Daryl says. "Sophia dug in with her sneakers, there. She didn't keep goin' and she didn't turn back. She went up."
As one, all four of the men crane their heads to see into the top branches of the towering tree. "Why… why would she do that?" Glenn asks.
"Smelled the same thing I'm smellin'," Daryl says. He flings his crossbow onto his back, and Glenn finds he has to brace himself when Daryl slaps a hand on his shoulder to use him as leverage as he grabs for the nearest branch and swings himself up. Glenn staggers a little and then the weight is gone, Daryl already disappearing into the foliage as he scrambles up the trunk. Glenn shades his eyes, winces and tries to follow the other man's progress as he climbs. He's always had an overactive imagination - one of the reasons he failed orienteering all those years ago is that he was too busy checking the ground for the poisonous snakes he was sure were lurking under every rock to pay much attention to his stupid compass. Now Glenn has visions of Daryl losing his footing, crashing through branches to falls back to the ground with a sickening, bone-breaking thud. He doesn't breathe properly until Daryl's back on firm ground.
"Cabin," Daryl says, "couple of hundred yards to the southeast. Got a fire goin', smoke coming from the chimney. My best guess? She went that way."
"Okay," Shane says. "Say she did go up. Say she did smell that fire and climb that tree to check it out. Where's the tracks from when she came back down, smart guy?"
Daryl opens his mouth, closes it again.
Glenn feels a sudden surge of anger at Shane for putting that look of indecision on Daryl's face. "Think she could've moved from branch to branch, from tree to tree?" Glenn suggests.
"Might've," Daryl answers, scrubbing again at his straggle of a beard, "if she's part monkey."
"I have a child," Rick says. "Believe me, they're all part monkey."
"Well all right then. Guess not all those who wander are lost," he says. He juts his chin, swings his crossbow back into firing position and starts out. "C'mon, it's this way."
Rick cocks his head. "Never figured you for a reader, Daryl."
Daryl squints back over his shoulder. "Lots of shit you don't know about me," he says.
And when his eyes flick to Glenn before he ducks his head and continues leading the way, Glenn would swear that he's blushing.
* * *
Sophia runs to Rick, crushing herself against his chest and babbling about the sunlight and the walkers. The two children with her in the cabin are younger than she is, dirtier than she is. They don't know how long it's been since their mother left to find food for them and didn't return.
Shane holds the little girl's hand as they troop back through the woods, and somehow the little boy ends up perched on Daryl's shoulders. Glenn falls into step beside them, nudges Daryl with his shoulder. "So, he says, "I may have been president of the JRR Tolkien fan club in high school. Just sayin'."
Daryl snorts. "Read the books, but I ain't no nerd."
"Still, it's something we have in common," Glenn says. "Tolkien fans should stick together."
Daryl shakes his head, but he nudges him back. And this time when their shoulders brush, Glenn again feels that spark. He meets Daryl's eyes, knows Daryl feels it too.
It's a start.
.