The night was colder than you expected, and the thin jacket you had on did nothing against the wind. You rubbed your hands together, trying to keep them warm, but the shivering would not stop.

From where he sat a few feet away, Daryl glanced over. He did not say anything right away. His eyes lingered just long enough for you to know he noticed.

A moment later, something heavy hit your lap. You looked down and saw his vest, worn and smelling faintly of smoke and leather.

“Quit shiverin’,” he muttered, adjusting the crossbow strap on his shoulder like he had not done anything out of the ordinary.