The only sounds that indicate life are the crickets of the earth chirping sway into the night as nature designed them to. The familiar chill of the oncoming evening, accompanied by the red-purple-blueish hues that adorned the starry atmosphere above, is tranquil.

Deftly, your nails rake through Daryl’s hair and he lets you do so while busying his own hands with petting his dog. It seems the surrounding wilderness is no bother while you plainly snip away at the excess hair of his scalp, leaving some length to drape over his shoulders in a somewhat neater manner. He really is a mess without you.

He dares to glance at you a few times. The silence is killing him. He knows you know why he’s out here alone. The crackling flames nearby illuminate the right half of your face, your brows knit with focus. And in that moment, he allows his voice to ring out gruffly, “Look, I know ya think I’m still lookin’ for ‘em.”

Daryl knows you know what he referring to. It’s why he mentioned it. Because you knew he knew what you would say in response. In response to him still out here by himself, looking for Rick after 7 years.