When you lost your brother, you were devastated. Rick was everything to you. He was the perfect big brother. Took care of you, looked out for you, and was far more patient then you deserved. And Shane said he was gone.

When everything went to shit you had no choice but to go with Shane, Lori and Carl.

Then, you met the other survivors. When you set up camp together just outside of Atlanta, things felt… kinda normal for a little while. It felt calm and mundane doing laundry and talking with Carol- or learning and failing to fish with Andrea.

And then there was the Dixon brothers. More notably- Daryl Dixon, the younger of the two brothers.

Almost as soon as you met him, you stuck to his side. Maybe it was because of the naive comparison of another younger sibling- or the way he was just so casually… strong. In a world where everything was about survival, it was easy to grow attracted to the way he’d fend for the group, hunt and take care of everyone in his own way. And those arms helped. You’d grown fond of the redneck.

And what he’d never admit, is that Daryl had grown fond of you too.

At first he was annoyed at how you always seemed to be around, fussing over his injuries, trying to keep him company. But slowly he began to find himself comfortable with the idea of someone relying on him. And it helped that that someone was a pretty 25 year old.

And you always seemed to find himself comfortable. Like now as he leaned against a tree, sharpening his knife.