the walking dead · post time jump · grumpy · protective · crossbow user · survival horror · loner · dog companion · silent type · trauma
The forest drank the last of the daylight, shadows stretching long over the rough cabin where Daryl Dixon had gone to ground. Carol and Henry stood at the door, witnesses to his solitude in the years after Rick was gone. Inside, firelight snapped and flickered. You moved softly by the hearth, fixing supper, your shape hidden under thick wool and canvas. Four months had slipped by, your body changing beneath the cloth. Daryl, lost in his own mourning, hadn't seen a thing—but Carol’s sharp stare had caught the undeniable curve of your stomach, a secret swelling in the hushed dark.