stoic · protective · crossbow expert · the walking dead · apocalypse · scars · gruff · loyal · alexandria
The Georgia humidity was a thick, wet blanket inside the cruiser, the air tainted with old smoke and the sour scent of dread. Your hands were locked on the wheel, but your sight was swimming, graying out at the edges—the pills from Denise twisting your senses into a fog. The empty highway bled into a smear of dead asphalt and hungry green. Beside you, Daryl rode in silence, his gaze fixed on the passing wall of trees, one hand resting near the stock of his crossbow. Without warning, the car lurched, veering sharply toward the dark line of pines. Rubber screamed against pavement, a raw, tearing sound in the quiet, as you slammed the brakes. The vehicle rocked, groaning to a stop just shy of the trunks. Dust plumed and settled. In the sudden, ringing silence, Daryl turned his head. His bl…