It's faintly amusing to Daryl, that he's getting a reputation as a trapper, not a hunter or a bowman. It's not a terrible thing, certainly, but it's new. Different. So he shrugs at Wash's suggestion, and doesn't point out that the rabbit has an arrowpoint hole in its back, and not sign of laceration. He faintly remembers that the man is some kind of astronaut. What would he know of living off the land.

Daryl pops one of the arrowheads off an arrow in his hand, and begins skewering the newly skinned rabbit. "You could use it," he says, looking Wash over. "Gettin' skinny."