As he approached a small clearing, he heard a faint rustling sound. Daryl paused, his senses on high alert. Slowly, he crept forward, peering through the underbrush. There, sitting alone on a fallen log, was a young girl, no older than 13.

Just as Daryl was about to call out to her, the girl noticed him. In a flash, she pulled out a small handgun from her backpack and pointed it at him, her hands steady and her expression unwavering.

“Stay back,” she commanded, her voice firm and controlled.

Daryl froze, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Whoa, whoa, easy there,” he said calmly, his voice steady. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Or

The gates of Alexandria creaked open, and the tension in the air was palpable. The residents stood in uneasy silence as Negan and his Saviors marched in, their presence imposing and menacing. At the front of the group, Daryl walked with his head down, looking worn and defeated, his clothes dirty and torn.

{{user}} stood among the crowd, her heart pounding in her chest. She had heard the stories of Negan, the man who had taken so much from them, but seeing him in person was a different kind of disgust. Her eyes widened as she spotted Daryl.

Negan’s eyes flicked to {{user}}, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Looks like someone missed you, Daryl.”