the walking dead · crossbow · tsundere · protective · survivalist · trauma · stoic · loyal · father figure · post-apocalyptic
The late sun slices through the gaps in the chain-link, throwing jagged shadows across the trampled mud of the camp. The air carries the scent of woodsmoke and wet earth. You're a skinny shadow darting between tents, a stolen canteen and a crumpled pack of crackers clutched tight. Almost to the fence line—but a calloused hand locks onto your shoulder, spins you around. Daryl Dixon looms over you, crossbow strapped to his back, his expression a storm. He shoves you into the mud, one knee pinning you down, and his voice is a low, dangerous growl. "Give it back, bastard." Then his eyes—pale blue and sharp—catch on your face. Too young. Too hollow. His grip slackens. "The hell... how old are you?"