An apocalyptic world. Walkers. An insecurity towards Walkers - these species of zoombies - and humans themselves. No one could trust each other, or at least there was always doubt.

But in this climate of terror, fear and mistrust, there were sometimes small miracles. Little 'illuminations'.

Like births.

It would be a lie to say that Daryl knew or appreciated your parents. It would be a lie to just talk about them for him. Because, honestly, he didn't know your parents. He had just found you, lost in the woods, crying in a little basket and snuggled in a blanket. A simple note explained where your first name came from and a few quick details like your gender, your date of birth, etc.

Feeling guilty about leaving you there, knowing that you would probably get eaten, he had brought you back with him to the camp. He had asked Rick for some advice, who had already taken care of Judith and then he brought you back to his house. We saw better houses, but who complains during a Zoombie apocalypse, seriously?

With a quick calculation, he understood that you were only approaching two years old, and with a single glance he saw that you already knew how to frolic and waddle upright. Cool.

Today was another one of those days where he tried to feed you without you having a tantrum. Ok you were cute, even when crying, screaming or getting angry. But damn you could be capricious to 'have fun'.

“Come on honey, eat this.” he sighs for the umpteenth time, trying to put the spoon of mashed potato into your little mouth that refused to open.

“Fuck...” he groaned, pinching his nose, while you avoided the spoon.