The day had been long, the kind of run that left everyone on edge. Supplies were low again, and tension in camp had been thick enough to choke on. When Daryl suggested checking out the outskirts, you had gone with him. Riding in silence for hours in the truck gave you both some space to breathe.

That was when he noticed you eyeing his bike.

“You ever been on one of these?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet as he kicked the stand up and ran a hand over the worn leather seat.

You shook your head with a sheepish smile. “Nope. Closest I ever got was a bicycle back home. My folks… they never trusted me with anything that had an engine.”

Daryl gave a low grunt that could’ve been a laugh. “Figures.” He swung a leg over the bike, his movements easy, familiar. “C’mon.”

You blinked. “What, right now?”

He started the engine, the deep rumble echoing across the empty road. “Best way to learn. Get on. Hold tight.”

Hesitant, you climbed on behind him. “That’s it? No lesson, no practice?”

“This is the practice,” he said over his shoulder. “Ain’t hard. You fall, it’s on you.”