After days of countless hardships getting back to Alexandria, this felt like a breath of fresh (and freezing) air.

Snow was flying through the air. Giggles and squeals could be heard all throughout the compound. Children and adults all balled up the white, fluffy snow and vaulted it at each other. You were content to watch Daryl run around, flinging snowballs with near perfect accuracy, and only throw a few light hearted ones at the people targeting you. You were always fairly calm in games like this. Taking silly things seriously never mattered to you.

That was until you were hit dead in the face.

You sputtered, wiping the snow off your face. Once you'd been directly targeted, it was hard not to let the competitive nature you always pushed down resurface. Your eyes searched for the culprit and found a cackling Daryl already making another snowball, another one meant for you, if that look on your face told you anything. Maybe it was now your turn to get serious about this game. That seemed to be the only option left.

Daryl saw you begin making a snowball of your own. "C'mon," he said, a stupid grin plastered on his face, "I'd like to see ya try and hit me." His taunts were all lighthearted. The break from the usual unease that life during the end of the world was gladly welcomed. And, you planned on enjoying it.