TWD: Merle - Chapter 12: The Hunt Is On (Patreon)

The next morning, Merle made a rare departure from his usual habit of sleeping in and showed up outside the tent bright and early, giving his Winchester hunting rifle some basic maintenance.

Daryl was as quiet as ever. He had no interest in talking to Merle, or talking at all for that matter. He simply kept his head down, repeatedly checking and adjusting his trusty old crossbow.

He seemed to have finally found his comfort zone.

He didn't have to constantly worry about where he was going to survive next. He didn't have to waste his breath arguing with that asshole Merle, and he didn't have to force himself to deal with other people.

Someone else was already taking care of everything.

Wade might be young, but so far, his decisions and actions had proven sound.

That was enough for Daryl.

Wade yawned and stretched. In his hands were a recurve bow and a box of carbon-fiber arrows.

Daryl gave him a couple of surprised looks, as if asking whether he actually knew how to use the thing.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm not as accurate as you, but I know the basics. Draw, aim, release."

Merle whistled and grinned. "Just make sure you don't put an arrow in Daryl's ass from behind. He might take it personally."

"Shut up, Merle!"

Rick happened to emerge from his tent just then. Seeing the three of them fully equipped, he asked in surprise, "You guys heading out?"

"Yeah. We're going to look around and see if we can bring back some food."

Rick didn't ask any further questions. "Be careful out there. Try to get back early."

"Don't worry. We will."

Wade nodded, then exchanged a look with Merle and Daryl. The three of them left camp together.

The moment they entered the woods, Daryl seemed to become a completely different person.

His eyes constantly searched the ground a few steps ahead of him. He moved quickly but quietly, placing each foot where grass would soften the sound.

Merle followed about five steps behind him. His usual mocking, reckless attitude had disappeared as well. His expression was serious without being tense, but unlike Daryl, he never watched the ground. Instead, his attention remained fixed on the places Daryl couldn't see.

Watching the brothers work together so naturally, Wade couldn't help but grin.

The Dixon brothers really did have an understanding between them.

Who would've guessed that two hunters who worked this well together normally communicated by insulting each other?

Before long, Daryl crouched down.

He picked something up from the ground, rubbed it between his fingers, then brought it to his nose. Once he was certain, he gestured for the others to come closer.

"About half an hour ago. White-tailed deer. Around five of 'em, I think. One's a fawn." He studied the tracks for another moment. "They weren't looking for food. Looks more like they were running from something."

Wade stared at the tracks, then at Daryl.

Now that was expertise.

The man had figured all of that out from a handful of prints on the ground.

Wade had absolutely no intention of questioning him.

There was no point in an amateur doubting someone who actually knew what he was doing.

And Wade wasn't dumb enough to think carrying a bow suddenly made him a hunter.

"Looks like we've got some tracking to do," Merle said. "Once deer get spooked, they'll range at least twice as far as usual. But we're in the woods. Worst case, we cross this mountain and probably pick up their trail again on the other side."

Wade stared at him in surprise.

Wait a second.

Merle actually knew what he was talking about?

Merle's expression immediately soured. "What the hell are you looking at? You think all I know how to do is drink and swear?"

Beside him, the corner of Daryl's mouth twitched upward.

It was barely noticeable.

Wade still caught it.

Damn. Did Daryl just laugh at him?

So even the quiet ones had a mean streak.

After that, Daryl picked up the pace, following the trail left by the white-tailed deer.

He never hesitated and never stopped to second-guess himself. Every step carried the confidence of someone who trusted his own experience.

An hour and a half later, after the three of them had crossed the mountain and started down the opposite slope, Daryl finally stopped.

He pointed toward a patch of brush on the hillside across from them.

"There."

Merle raised his Winchester hunting rifle and looked through the scope, then tested the direction of the wind with his hand.

His already flushed face darkened slightly.

Years of drinking and smoking had taken their toll on him. The only reason he'd managed to keep up this entire way was sheer stubbornness and his refusal to admit weakness in front of Wade.

Unfortunately, they were upwind.

If they wanted a real chance at taking down the deer, they would have to circle all the way around to the opposite hillside.

Merle sighed quietly.

"Then let's move. Don't want these bastards getting away."

Wade noticed that something was off with him and was about to say something, but Daryl gave him a small tug.

So the three of them continued on in silence.

They descended the slope, circled around from downwind, then climbed back up until they were roughly fifty meters from the herd.

Five white-tailed deer were scattered across the area, heads lowered as they grazed.

They looked relaxed, but every one of them remained alert.

The adults regularly raised their heads and scanned their surroundings, noses testing the air. Only after several seconds would they lower their heads and resume feeding.

Daryl wiped the sweat from his face, pointed at Wade, then gestured toward a patch of bushes ahead.

Wade understood.

He nodded, split off from Daryl, and slowly climbed diagonally up the left side.

He didn't move quickly, but he barely made a sound.

By the time Wade reached the position Daryl had indicated and carefully rose, Daryl was already in place on the other side.

From the look of it, he'd been waiting for a while.

Damn.

There really was no competing with someone who was naturally this good at it.

Once Wade was in position, Daryl glanced back toward Merle.

Then he raised his right hand and held up three fingers.

The countdown began.

When the last finger folded down, Daryl immediately lowered his hand and pulled the trigger.

The crossbow bolt slammed into the neck of an adult white-tailed deer, nearly punching straight through.

The force knocked the animal to the ground as blood sprayed from the wound.

But within moments, it struggled back onto its feet and staggered toward the deeper woods.

Daryl didn't follow it.

He quickly reloaded his crossbow, took aim at another deer, and fired again.

At the same time, Merle began pulling the trigger.

Gunshots cracked through the woods one after another. Between the initial shots and the follow-ups, three white-tailed deer dropped in quick succession.

Wade released his bowstring as well.

The arrow shot forward in a blur.

Driven by the fifty-five-pound draw weight, it punched straight through the deer's lung.

The animal struggled upright, managed only a couple of steps, then collapsed again.

This time, it didn't get back up.

Daryl, who had been preparing to finish it off, paused.

Then he gave Wade a small nod of approval.

Not bad.

He wasn't a complete beginner, at least. He could hit what he was aiming at.

Merle let out a whistle and grinned smugly.

"Looks like you've still got some practicing to do, kid."

Wade flipped him off, then followed Daryl over to start dressing the deer.