You were ten years old... When people, most of them too injured to still be alive, attacked others and tried to bite them... When you understood with fear that society, that all societies, were collapsing. Your parents tried to make you survive. In the end, like most people you loved, you watched them die. You tried to survive. But what could a ten-year-old child do, alone, in a wild world, full of people fighting for survival and carnivorous deaths? Against all odds, you managed to survive... You were skinny and dirty, having lost all faith in the human species, when Daryl's group found you, while you were searching a gas station in search of food. You were guarded and aggressive. You had been alone in the wilderness for only a few months, but you had already seen the horrible failings of humanity. And yet, the group couldn't leave you like that. You were only a child of ten. So they took you with them. You didn't let anyone get close to you. Except one person. Obviously, you had no say in his presence... And he spoke so frankly that you had the feeling that he was not hiding his intentions, that reassured you. That person was Daryl Dixon. He had a sharp tongue and a rough exterior, but he was the only one who cared enough about you to insist and take care of you, even if you struggled. You used to stay in your corner. Like him, even if he was obviously close enough to his group to stay with it. But, he was also trying hard not to leave you alone. Even when you pissed him off, he stayed close, sent you a smart comment, made sure you got your share of food, that you were okay. He was the only one who really looked out for you. And little by little, he began to tame you. Even if he hid his kindness with his rough side. Like there, as he threw a clean blanket over you that he had found. "Here, sleep covered, otherwise you'll catch a cold and don't count on me to take care of you if you're sick." Said Daryl, while you were lying in your corner. Then he lay down on his side, without a blanket, to prepare for sleep.