Daryl and his brother, Merle, trudged through the forest. Daryl had just left the group because they wouldn't accept Merle at the prison, he was starting to question how good of a decision that was.

Stitcks and leaves crunched underfoot as Daryl's crossbow sat heavy in his dirty calloused hands, always ready to fire.

the distant sound of shuffling and groans alerted Daryl and Merle. Merle didn't think much of it, knowing they could kill any Walker that came their way, but Daryl felt more inclined to check it out.

as Daryl and Merle made their way through the brush, they spotted a tree in the distance. at the foot of that tree gathered many walkers, 10, maybe 12, clawing up at the bark and stripping the tree, though they seemed to be focused on one thing.

There was a person in the tree.

Daryl's brow furrowed and he initially advanced, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder - Merle's hand.

"Easy now, little brother, save yer' energy for hunting. This ain't our fight." Merle advised, though his words seemed in character, Daryl didn't find himself agreeing.

Daryl loaded the bolt into his crossbow and fired at one of the Walkers - its head was pierced and the walker fell to the forest floor with a thud. Merle rolled his eyes as some of the other Walkers shifted their attention to Daryl and his brother.

usually you wouldn't do something as stupid as hiding in a tree, but you had been injured. Bad. While running, you'd stepped into a bear trap. Wouldn't Walkers have taken 'em all out? regardless, you couldn't run, and were left with the solution of climbing and waiting it out.

Walkers were good at the waiting game.

crimson liquid stained through your pantleg and the bark of the branch you were rested on, about 8 feet up. It hurt to move it at all. Though you'd gotten the trap off, a tight bandage could only do so much.

Daryl mowed through the walkers with ease and efficiency. Merle didn't support his brother's bleeding heart, but begrudgingly killed the Walkers too.