Eniola was TIRED.

Lori and Shane had been going at it in that fuck ass tent like they were the only people left on Earth. Third night in a row. They probably thought they were being quiet — but they were loud as hell. Eniola had reached her limit.

She unzipped her tent, ready to raise hell — only to be met by Dale, standing there like he’d been expecting her.

In a low whisper, he said, “You don’t have to do that, you know. We’ll be fine. They’re just... in love. Or lust. Who knows.”

“Nah, Dale. It’s really getting bad. I’m shocked those shitty zombies haven’t wandered over yet. Then again, with the way she’s moanin’? They probably think she’s one of them.”

She finally took a breath, the exhaustion catching up to her. It wasn’t personal — she didn’t hate them. She just needed some damn sleep.

When she looked up, Dale met her eyes with that familiar knowing look. He got it. He always did.

“Eniola, w—” Dale started, but was cut off by a sudden—

CRUNNNCH!

He grabbed that shotgun so fast, it was almost a blur. Eniola snatched her knife from inside her tent, scrambling to catch up with Dale as they moved toward the sound — a distant shuffle, it has to be a walker. Dale held out an arm, halting her with a silent signal to stay back. They tiptoed forward, every step tense, edging toward the source of the noise.

crunch

Eniola jumped, heart slamming against her chest — the sound was right behind her. She spun around, knife raised, ready to launch herself at the walker. But mid-lunge, a hand caught her wrist. Definitely not a damn walker.

"The hell are you doing little girl" Ugh this dirtball's voice pissed Eniola off every time.

"First off Merle, I'm not little secondly, why are y'all creeping around here? We were this close to killing the both of you."

"No, you weren't. A scratch? Maybe, but kill? Nah." Merle's smartass little brother Daryl said laughing at her.

Eniola was still tired as hell, too drained to argue. She yanked her wrist free, didn’t even look back, and walked off without a word. Her limbs felt like concrete. As she neared her tent, a faint voice sounded out, getting quieter with every step.

“That ass on her, mm! I’d do so much to her you just don’t even know, little brother.”

Yeah, that had to be Merle. His gritty voice was like a fork screeching across a plate — irritating and unnecessary. Bitch ass.

Eniola couldn’t make out Daryl’s response — and honestly, she didn’t care. She knew she looked good. Apocalypse or not, her body was still fire, and she didn’t need anyone’s validation.

Back in her tent, zipped up and secure, the world finally went quiet.

Not even Lori and Shane were making noise anymore. Maybe trouble in paradise, she thought with a smirk.

Eniola drifted off, wrapped in silence for once — nothing but peace, and well-earned rest.

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*HONK* *HONK* *HONK* *HONK* *HOOOONK*

“The fuck?” Eniola croaked, her raspy morning voice full of irritation. Something was out there — loud as hell and honking like a maniac.

She sat up, already knowing that sound meant nothing good. Crawling out of her tent, afro wild and lopsided, she scanned the campsite — empty. Everyone was down by the road, eyes locked on something.

The honking was still blaring. Way too loud. The kind of loud that would bring walkers running.

Dragging her feet, Eniola joined the group just in time to see what had them frozen and confused. A red, sporty-looking car came zooming down the street, horn blaring nonstop. Behind it, a truck gave chase, engine growling like it wanted blood. The red car didn’t slow down — it was heading straight toward them, honking like they weren't mid-apocalypse.

Shane looked pissed — understandably so. That car had been honking loud as hell. Like, really loud.

Eniola didn’t catch the whole conversation going on with the group, but once they finally got the car to shut up, she noticed what looked like a little family reunion. Lori, Carl, and some random guy. He was kind of cute, she guessed, but this wasn't the time to be making new friends.

Right now, all she wanted was a place that felt safe. Closed off. Quiet. Somewhere she could breathe without checking over her shoulder every five seconds.

Without saying much, Eniola made her way back to her tent. She grabbed the usual — her knife, a can of beans, and a bottle of pond water to deal with the heat. Survival mode on lock, as always.

"I'm going for a walk," she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.

She didn’t owe them more than that. Truth be told, the only people she actually liked were Dale, Jacqui, and Carol. The rest didn't even want her there to begin with. Stingy with everything they had.

"Like hell you are-" Shane got cut off by Lori.

"Let her do her thing Shane." Lori's hand landing on Shane chest to stop him.

The new guy looked at the gesture with disappointment.

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The walk was calming — almost eerily so. For a moment, it reminded her of the quiet hikes she used to take with her parents. Back when the world made sense.

FLASHBACK INCOMING

Eniola had lost them the day everything fell apart. It was a Sunday — the kind she never missed. Every week, no matter what, she’d show up at their house for dinner. But that Sunday… that Sunday was different.

The zombies broke in mid-bite.

She could still hear her dad’s voice, yelling for her to run. She remembered the sound of forks crashing against their plates, her mom screaming, the sight of her father getting bit — right on the arm. Her eyes burned with tears, blurring everything as she stumbled backward.

She ran through the back door.

And she never stopped running.

That is, until she ran into Dale.

He found her wandering, half-starved, eyes low, mind with shock and so much rage. He didn’t ask questions. Just gave her food, a blanket, and space. Over time, he taught her how to shoot, how to stay calm, how to survive without losing herself. He never tried to change her — just made room for who she already was.

In a world gone to hell, Dale gave her something she hadn’t felt since her parents died: a sense of home.

At the campsite, she met Jacqui and Carol — both survivors in their own right, with their own baggage and strength. Over time, they became her people. Her quiet constants. Her best friends.

She might not trust easily, but with them? She didn’t have to try so hard.

FLASHBACK OVER

“What you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

She didn’t even flinch this time. After being snuck up on by him one too many times, she already knew that voice.

“Nothing much, Daryl,” she said softly. Her voice carried a trace of reminiscence — low, sad, like a memory she hadn’t asked to revisit.

Out of the corner of her eye, something dropped. A rope. No — a rope with SOMETHINGS on it. It hit the ground with a wet SPLAT.

Her body stiffened.

Slowly, she turned her head, dread crawling up her spine. Whatever it was... she knew it'd be disgusting.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Eniola couldn't contain it; SHE SAW A ROPE WITH FUCKING DEAD SQUIRRELS ON IT.

"SHHHH! Why are you so scared anyway, you see zombies literally drooling everywhere" he shooshed her so they wouldn't attract zombies toward them.

"Daryl this is..." she exhaled gaining composure.

"This is your last straw, Daryl. Get that fucking rope away from me!" Eniola changed her tone to a whisper yell. She already didn't like how rude he was to her bestie Dale and basically the entire group, now he's throwing roped squirrels BE FOR REAL.

“Anyway, a certain someone back there told me your night wasn’t too great — something about Shane and Lori getting a little too loud and… dirty.”

“Right... right… and why does that concern you, squirrel boy?” Eniola said, then immediately cringed inside at how cheesy that sounded.

Daryl just grinned. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. Well, I was thinkin’ — why don’t we have a little competition with ‘em?”

His strong southern drawl made it sound like a serious challenge. And Eniola? She loved to compete.

“Go ooonnnn,” she said, her mind blank but buzzing with excitement. All she caught was competition in big, flashing letters.

“So hows ‘bout I take you to my tent, and we show ‘em how loud we can really get?”

He smirked like he ate that up.

Her face scrunched up in disgust, before he could say anything else she put her hand up stopping him from responding, "You have no more straws Daryl, like 10 minutes ago you shushed me for yelling due to you know WALKERS..." she added emphasis.

"...now you wanna get freaky with me to compete with Lori and Shane" Eniola's eyebrows raised.

For some reason he still looked hopeful. She took the deepest breath, "No Daryl." The moment she just had alone reminiscing about her parents were just tainted by this genuinely dirty looking man.

*crunch*

Daryl’s face shifted from disappointment to sharp curiosity the moment he heard the noise — the very animal he’d been hunting. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay perfectly still.

In one smooth motion, he grabbed a handful of arrows, not wasting a second. He aimed carefully and released three precise shots. The deer stumbled but somehow managed to bolt a short distance before crashing down with a heavy thud.

“That’s dinner,” he said quietly, already moving toward where the animal had fallen.

"AHHHHH!!"

Both of them snapped their heads toward the scream — sharp, urgent. It was the boy. Carl.

"DAD!!"

Yeah, that was definitely Carl. Eniola took off running, heart pounding. Daryl grabbed his crossbow and the rope of squirrels before sprinting after her, the tension thick in the air as they chased the sound.

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When they both arrived at the scene, Eniola was caught off guard by the sight of Shane’s big shotgun aimed directly at her. Shane's expression shifted the moment he recognized her, relief softening his features as he noticed Daryl lagging just behind. With a long breath, he lowered the weapon and turned away without a word.

Eniola’s gaze shifted to a grisly sight—a headless, dead walker—and then to a half-eaten deer lying nearby. Before she could fully process it, Daryl finally caught up. He placed a firm hand on her waist, guiding her gently behind him, shielding her without hesitation.

She did feel a flicker of safety in that moment—Daryl stepping up like that. Not that she’d ever admit it to him.

"Son of a bitch."

"THASS MY DEER!" Daryl was genuinely mad because he lost dinner to that zombie.

Eniola suddenly noticed her hands resting on the back of Daryl’s shoulders. When had that happened?

It was like her mind snapped back into place. She blinked, cleared her throat, and quickly pulled her hands away, stepping back just enough to put a breath of space between them. Too close. Too comfortable. Not happening AT ALL.

"Look at it all gnawed on by this..." She saw him cock his leg back ready to kick the headless zombie.

"Filthy. Disease-Bearing. Motherless. Poxy. Bastard!"

After each diss he laid a kick to the side of the headless body.

"Calm down son. That's not helping." Dale tried to calm down Daryl a little.

Daryl stormed up to Dale, invading his space with a glare. “What do you know about it, old man?”

Eniola’s frustration bubbled up, her fists clenching tighter by the second, ready to step in.

But Dale caught her eye and gave a slight nod, raising a hand — a silent warning to stay out of it.

“Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to On Golden Pond,” Daryl sneered, voice dripping with anger.

And that right there was exactly why Eniola wasn't about to just give him some coo. Rude as fuck.

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Eniola made it back to her tent before she had to endure any more of Daryl’s deer rant. She shut her eyes for just a moment. She wasn’t even tired.

But she fell asleep like a baby.

When she woke, the light creeping through the tent told her it was morning again. It was quieter than usual.

Stepping out of her tent, she immediately noticed something off—T-Dog, Glenn, Daryl... and that new guy, Rick—they were all gone.

“Hey, honey. How’d you sleep?” Dale approached her with a plate of food—leftovers from the night before.

“I slept pretty good,” Eniola said, eyeing the plate. “That for me?”

She really hoped it was. Her stomach was practically screaming at her.

“Yes, it is. Here you go.” He handed it over—some meat and beans.

“Mwah, thank you, Dale.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in return.

Dale chuckled, clearly pleased.

“Dale,” she said, tone shifting slightly, “can I ask you something? And I really don’t want to hear any questions about my question.”

Dale looked confused but didn’t argue. He just nodded, waiting.

“Where did Daryl and the others go?” Eniola asked, surprising herself with how little she cared about anyone else. It was like she needed to know exactly where he was.

Dale noticed the worry in her eyes and took a deep breath, explaining everything from start to finish.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Eniola nodded.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

She shrugged, voice low and raw. “I don’t know, Dale. Maybe it’s because if I had even one word that my parents were still alive, I’d be chasing after them. But going back into the city? That’s just too damn dangerous.”

Dale pulled her into a comforting hug, holding her close.

“You’ll be okay, Eniola. And so will Daryl,” he whispered into her shoulder.

When they finally pulled apart, Dale chuckled.

“What’s funny?” she asked, confused.

“Oh, nothing. Just that you like Daryl,” he teased.

Eniola shoved him playfully. “Eww, no I don’t!” Her face scrunched up in mock disgust.

Dale grinned and started chanting, “Eniola likes Daryl! Eniola likes Daryl!”

“You’re not funny,” she shot back, turning away toward her tent as his laughter faded behind her.

Alone in her tent, she let the thought linger longer than she wanted to admit. Maybe… just maybe, she did care for squirrel boy.

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I DID ITTTT

I hope you all enjoyed this I know it's long as fuck but hear me out......

ITS A LONG SERIES IN GENERAL.

anyway, love Daryl DEOWWWNNNNN and uhhh get ready for this slow burn tingggggg