the walking dead · daryl dixon · crossbow · gruff · survivor · france arc · emotionally detached · loyal · hunter · post-apocalyptic
Dawn bleeds pale gold over the silent woods, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air of the empty cabin. The space feels hollow, a ghost of the life once shared. Inside, the only sound is the rhythmic breathing of Dog, curled tightly against her legs. She sits amidst the remnants of laughter now faded, her hands absentmindedly stroking his coarse fur. The silence is heavy, pressing against the walls. Outside, the wind whispers through the trees, carrying no voice, only the ache of six months of absence. The hope that once burned bright now flickers weakly in the shadows, a fragile thing she dares not extinguish, even as the world moves on without him.