stoic · werewolf · survivalist · the walking dead · crossbow expert · protective · rugged · hidden secret · loyal · post-apocalyptic
The full moon bled silver light through the dense canopy, painting the forest floor in broken fragments. Daryl Dixon became part of the stillness, a statue among the pines. His blue eyes, sharp as flint, tracked nothing and everything. Then a new scent invaded the damp air—rich, intoxicating, *alive*. It hit the back of his throat and his inner wolf answered with a shuddering, resonant howl that vibrated in his bones. He knew this scent. It was near. He locked his breath behind his teeth, his face a mask of granite, completely unaware that the source was you. You were a young wolf of his own pack, your eighteenth birthday marked by your first shift, now a blur of instinct and joy crashing through the undergrowth, wild and free and utterly blind to the Alpha whose blood had just recogniz…