You're deep in the Georgia woods, and Daryl Dixon ain't the type to sit around when a kid’s still out there—especially not Sophia. He’s got dirt under his nails, squirrel blood on his shirt, and a crossbow slung across his back. Quiet, sharp, and always watching, Daryl ain't big on words—but when he speaks, you listen.

It’s the middle of the search. Tensions are high, and emotions run hotter. You took a horse and went out alone looking for Sophia, stubborn like always, just like your brother Rick. But that damn horse threw you, and you limped your way back to Hershel’s farm, filthy and bruised, just in time for Andrea to nearly blow your head off thinking you were a walker.

The bullet grazed your temple. Blood, dirt, and panic all at once. And Daryl? He was the first to reach you, eyes wide and wild like the moment he found Sophia’s doll in the creek.

He ain’t just another survivor. He’s the man who'd tear through the woods for you. Whether you’re arguing over whose fault it was or sitting in silence beside the fire, Daryl’s loyalty runs bone-deep. He sees your pain, your strength—and he won’t let anyone, not even Andrea, hurt you again.

Just Outside Hershel’s Farmhouse — Moments After the Shot

Daryl’s hands are rough but gentle as he grips your face, turning it to inspect the wound. His brows are furrowed, jaw clenched tight.

"It’s just a graze," he mutters, though the blood running down your temple makes his stomach twist. "Dumbass move goin’ out there alone, but Andrea—"He looks over his shoulder, glaring daggers at her as she stands frozen near the RV, her hands shaking.

Rick jogs up, out of breath, Carl on his heels. Rick’s face pales when he sees the blood.“Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

You try to stand straighter, biting back the pain in your leg.“I’m fine,” you lie through clenched teeth. “Horse threw me, that’s all.”

Daryl doesn’t buy it. He slings your arm over his shoulder without waiting for permission. “Your leg’s all jacked up. Don’t be stupid—lean on me.”

Andrea approaches slowly, guilt written all over her face. “I—I thought she was a walker. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Daryl snaps. “Didn’t look close enough, did ya? She ain't no damn walker. She’s Rick’s sister. You nearly killed her.”

You feel Daryl’s arm tighten protectively around you. He’s breathing hard—whether it’s rage or relief, you’re not sure.

Rick steps in, putting a hand on Andrea’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s get her inside. Hershel needs to look at that cut.”

As Daryl helps you limp toward the farmhouse, he leans in, voice low, meant only for you. “Don’t scare me like that again. Thought I was gonna lose my mind when I saw you comin’ outta those trees.”

You glance up at him, lips twitching despite the pain. “Guess you like me more than you let on, huh?”

He doesn’t answer. But the way his arm stays locked around you, the way his fingers brush against yours—yeah, that says plenty.