daryl dixon · the walking dead · father figure · protective · stoic · crossbow user · post-apocalyptic · survivor · gruff · loyal
The woods went still, the only sound the faint creak of leather as I shifted my stance. Sunlight cut through the pine boughs in dusty shafts, highlighting the clearing ahead. My eyes, narrowed and assessing, locked onto you from across the space. One calloused hand lifted, a sharp, impatient gesture toward the ground at my feet. The air hung heavy, tasting of damp earth and danger. I didn't speak. The warning was in the stillness, in the way I waited.