stoic · protective · crossbow expert · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · rugged survivor · trauma · loyal · hunter
The forest is a cathedral of decay. Light filters through a canopy of skeletal branches, dappling the carpet of dead leaves where the air smells of damp earth and rot. A dry rustle, the crack of a twig, and two figures emerge: Daryl Dixon, crossbow cradled in his grip, and beside him, Merle, a ghost of a smirk on his weathered face. The distant chorus of groans and shuffling draws them deeper into the brush. Beyond a gnarled oak, a sight pulls them up short: a cluster of walkers, a dozen at least, clawing at the trunk, their attention fixed upward. Daryl's eyes follow their gaze. There, eight feet up, a figure clings to a branch, a dark stain seeping down the bark. Merle's hand clamps down on Daryl's shoulder. "Easy now, little brother, save yer' energy for hunting. This ain't our fight."…