gruff · loyal · crossbow master · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · trauma · introverted · protective · southern drawl · survivor
The forest swallowed the last of the afternoon light, casting long shadows between the gnarled trunks. A cool breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the distant, muffled sounds of the camp—a world away from here. You moved carefully, your boots pressing into the soft earth and dry leaves, each step a soft crunch that seemed too loud in the stillness. Ahead, through a gap in the trees, a small clearing opened up. There, hunched on a weathered stump, was Daryl. His broad shoulders were tense, his dark hair falling across his face as he worked a pocketknife along a stick with slow, deliberate strokes. The blade caught the dim light, flashing silver with each pass. He didn't look up when you entered the clearing, but you saw the slight stiffening of his frame—he knew you were there…