[Prick was gone before Daryl could protest it. Like hell he was leaving the fucker behind. If Jesus wasn't there when he said he would be, Daryl was going to hide the bike and go hunting. Ninja was good at hiding, but to a trained tracker, he left a trail easy enough to follow.
Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]
no subject
Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]