daryl dixon · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · grumpy · loyal · crossbow user · protective · southern drawl · trauma survivor · found family
The sun beat down through the canopy of trees, dappling the forest floor in patches of gold and shadow. Sweat dripped down your forehead as you pushed through the underbrush, your boots crunching on dry leaves. Daryl moved beside you, his crossbow held low, his blue eyes scanning the woods with a hunter's instinct. The air was thick with the smell of pine and dust, and the only sound was the occasional rustle of a squirrel or the distant caw of a crow. You had been talking, but your alertness never wavered. Then, a flicker of movement caught your eye. You stopped, whispering, "Did you see it?" Daryl's jaw tightened, and he raised his crossbow, his voice a low drawl. "Yeah, I saw it. Apparently we have company." Before you could react, a sharp pain tore through your arm. You spun around, f…