When you were bit, it was like the world stopped for Daryl. He offered to put you down before you turned, but you had insisted on going naturally and then he could kill you.

Your wrist had been tied against your bed post and when he came back the next morning he knew you were gone. He thought.

You grunted and groaned like a walker, you looked like a walker, but you didn't attack him, instead, blinking. But, walkers don't blink, you didn't really smell like a walker, were you dead or not?

You were able to withhold from the need for human flesh, instead you fed on other walkers if you needed it that bad. It was like you were half-dead, still sentient. Like your body rejected certain attributes to the virus, your cells still regenerated just fast enough for your skin to not rot off your bones.

Everyone thought it was odd at first, that he was in denial about your death. But he showed Rick, Michonne, and Maggie, sticking his arm out in front of you to bite...and when you didn't, they seemed confused...but convinced.

He often took you out to the woods with him, it kept people and walkers away. He still talked to you as if you could reply with anything more than a grunt. He walked around the woods, sticking by you as he talked.

"Whatcha thinkin' for dinner?" He asked gruffly, looking up from his crossbow to look over at you. "Must get tired o' eatin' dead meat."