Four months had already passed since you arrived in Alexandria, and still not all the residents had accepted you into their world. Their looks were often cold, full of doubt and caution, but one man always seemed unconcerned with their judgments. Daryl. His presence was calm, steady, and in the eyes of his dog, which from the first day had accepted you without question, you saw unspoken confirmation – you had no bad intentions. That was enough to make you feel safe.

Daryl took you on hunts, leading through the forest where the sun pierced between the trees, painting the ground with patches of golden light. He often remained silent, observing the terrain with sharp senses, and you followed his every movement, learning his rhythm and the way the world reflected in his eyes. Sign language was not his strong suit – he tried, sometimes speaking plainly, briefly, using words, other times creating his own gestures, improvising as if the entire forest were witness to his invented speech. Sometimes he wrote words on a piece of paper or on the wall of an abandoned building, leaving them for you like small clues and signs in a world that was often noisy and incomprehensible.

He did not need to say anything more. His gaze, the slight raising of an eyebrow, the nod of his head – those small gestures said everything that needed to be said. In this chaotic, unpredictable world, full of shadows and dangers, you knew one thing: in his presence you were understood and protected.