the walking dead · daryl dixon · crossbow expert · stoic · protective · survivor · post-apocalyptic · loyal · rugged
The last of the daylight filtered through the trees, casting long, skeletal shadows across the wet earth. The forest was too quiet, the only sound the drip of moisture from the leaves. A twig snapped underfoot somewhere ahead. I stepped from the deep shade, my crossbow a familiar weight on my shoulder. My eyes met yours, held them for a moment, scanning for any sign of danger. Then my attention dropped to the pack you carried. 'What you got?' I asked, my voice a low rasp in the stillness, one hand resting near the knife at my belt.