Under the relentless deep freeze, an even older way of obtaining fresh meat was put on the schedule: winter hunting.
Naturally, the job fell to Daryl and Merle, the two most familiar with the mountains and woods, and the best suited for this kind of work.
Jonathan's squad trudged through snow that reached their calves, their breath frosting over their eyebrows and the brims of their hats.
Daryl led the way, hunched slightly, his sharp eyes sweeping over the snow.
Behind him were Jonathan, Carver, Merle, and several team members who needed more field experience.
Suddenly, Daryl stopped, crouched down, and gently brushed aside a layer of loose snow, revealing a clear hoofprint beneath it. The edges showed signs of slight melting.
"There's a buck in these woods," he analyzed seriously. "Passed through not long ago. Heavy one, too. Look here."
Daryl pointed to a spot just ahead of the hoofprint where the crust of snow had been scraped away. "It stopped here for a second. Probably heard something."
Carver leaned in and muttered, "You can tell all that from this?"
Daryl stood and looked in the direction the tracks led.
"It went that way. We'll follow the leeward slope." Daryl began moving with light, careful steps, barely making a sound, then gestured for the others to follow and watch where they stepped.
Merle followed behind, muttering under his breath about the damn snow and cold wind, but his eyes were just as alert as he scanned their surroundings.
"Fuck, creeping along after hoofprints like this. If you ask me, we find some high ground, take a look with binoculars, then sneak over and drop the bastard."
"Gunshots carry too far. Shut up." Daryl snapped back and kept tracking.
After following the trail for a while, the deer's tracks led into a brush-choked gully.
Daryl stopped again, carefully studying the broken branches and droppings on the ground.
"It uses this path a lot to get down to the creek for water." Daryl pulled a steel wire snare from the small pack he carried. "We'll set a snare here and check it tomorrow."
He skillfully fixed the snare in a hidden spot along the game trail, adjusted the height and tension, then disguised it with dead branches and snow. His movements were smooth and precise.
Merle stood nearby with his arms crossed, watching, then gave a mocking snort. "Ha! Wait till tomorrow? By tonight, some other thing might drag it off. Or it'll be frozen stiff. If we're doing this, we might as well do it right."
He looked around and spotted a large rock nearby, half-hanging off the slope and covered in snow. A cruel glint flashed in his eyes.
"See that rock, pretty boy?" Merle said to Carver. "Let's find a sturdy piece of wood and rig a tripwire.
If that stupid deer passes by, it'll smash its damn face in. Done in one shot."
Daryl frowned, but he did not stop him. He only said coldly, "That racket of yours might draw things we don't want. And meat smashed by a rock won't keep long."
"Still better than going back empty-handed!" Merle dismissed him and egged Carver on to help him mess with the "deadfall trap."
After the Dixon brothers set their respective traps, the team continued along the edge of the gully, hoping to find a better ambush point or more tracks.
Suddenly, Jonathan, who was moving along the flank, silently raised a hand. Everyone immediately crouched and took cover.
In the direction he indicated, about a hundred meters away, a strong grayish-white wild buck stood warily in a clearing, lowering its head to nibble at sparse grass roots exposed beneath the snow.
"Damn, finally found the prize." Merle's eyes lit up, and he instinctively reached for his revolver.
Daryl grabbed Merle's gun barrel, shook his head, and signaled with his eyes to let him do it.
He slowly took the crossbow from his back, cocked it without a sound, and loaded a bolt.
Just as Daryl held his breath, took aim, and prepared to pull the trigger, something went wrong.
A low, chaotic chorus of growls came from the dead woods behind and to the side of them.
About twenty walkers, drawn by the faint human scent carried on the wind, were staggering through the woods toward them.
"Jesus!" Merle cursed. Afraid the deer would be startled away, he stopped caring about staying hidden and abruptly raised his pistol.
Bang!
The gunshot exploded through the quiet mountain woods, shaking snow from the tree branches.
The buck startled, leapt up, and vanished into the dense forest.
And the gunshot, like a boulder dropped into still water, instantly drew every walker's attention.
They all snarled and lurched forward faster.
"We're surrounded! Get ready to fight!" Jonathan glared at Merle, then roared as he drew his machete.
"Damn it, Merle, you stupid jackass!" Daryl cursed, but now was not the time to fight among themselves.
He quickly fired a bolt and dropped the walker at the front, then drew his hunting knife.
The walkers closed in from three sides. They were not fast, but there were enough of them to pose a real threat.
Using trees and rocks as cover, the team fought back with crossbows, pistols, and melee weapons.
The snow slowed their movement, making the fight even harder.
One walker broke through the front line and lunged at a team member who was changing magazines.
Just as its rotten claws were about to grab the man's back, a dark figure swept past like the wind.
At some point, Merle had cut into the fight. The axe blade mounted on his right arm thrust out with precise speed, driving straight through the walker's eye socket and killing it instantly.
The move caught Carver's attention.
Carver rolled his right shoulder, quickly raised his hand, and threw a knife.
The throwing knife sank into a walker's head with a sharp whoosh. Carver whistled and grinned. "Hey, Merle, not bad."
With everyone fighting hard, the small group of walkers was wiped out.
Walker corpses lay scattered across the snow, their black, foul blood mixing with the clean white ground and giving off a nauseating stench.
When the fight ended, everyone was panting, still shaken.
The deer had escaped, and they had nearly been surrounded by walkers.
"Shit, all that for nothing!" Merle kicked a nearby walker corpse in frustration.
"And whose fault is that?" Daryl spat.
He walked over to the place where Merle had been setting up the deadfall trap and pointed at the walker-trampled marks on the ground, along with a few drops of dark blood that clearly did not belong to a human.
"Your big idea almost got our own people killed."
The bloodstains showed that a walker had triggered the unfinished tripwire, and the commotion had drawn the walkers' attention.
No one had been hurt, but that was enough to prove the point.
Merle choked on his words, spat awkwardly, and did not argue back.
"Not a complete waste." Jonathan pointed to the spot nearby where the buck had been standing. "I saw it step on something hidden in the snow when it got spooked."
He walked over and pulled a plump wild rabbit from the snow, accidentally crushed to death under the deer's hoof.
Daryl also checked the snare he had set earlier. It had not caught the deer, but it had trapped a squirrel trying to cross the game trail.
"Pack up. We're leaving right now," Jonathan ordered.
The smell of blood was too strong here.
They had not brought down the big game they wanted, but they had still gained something unexpected.
Carrying the rabbit and the squirrel, the team quickly disappeared into the mountain woods.