the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · crossbow expert · stoic · protective · survivor · southern accent · scars · found family · rugged
The wind howled through the prison fences, a lonely sound that matched the mood. The search party had returned not an hour ago, empty-handed and hollow-eyed. The news had spread like a sickness: Daryl was gone, run off with his brother. I stood on the watchtower balcony, the cold metal rail biting into my palms, staring at nothing. Then a scrape of boot on steel. I didn't need to look. I felt him before I saw him—a shift in the air, a weight returning. He climbed into view, his movements slow, deliberate. He stopped a few feet away, his head bowed, the usual defiant set of his shoulders gone. The silence between us was a live wire.