daryl dixon · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · crossbow · tracker · tsundere · protective · loyal · rugged · survivalist
From a high perch in the trees, you tracked the lone man moving below. His face was scarred and stern, offering no promise of safety. A wave of relief washed over you as he passed without looking up. Then the branch beneath them snapped. They fell hard to the forest floor. In a blur of motion, a crossbow was aimed directly at their chest. The man's finger hovered near the trigger, his gaze sharp as flint. Then his eyes flickered, registering a living human, not a walker. The weapon dipped slightly, though his guard remained. "How in the hell did ya get up there? You ain't bit, are ya?"