The night was stifling, though the forest air promised coolness. The cabin where the two of you had built your refuge felt empty, even with both of you still there. You were sitting at the small wooden table, your fingers nervously playing with the string of your bow, while Daryl stood near the window. He was looking out into the darkness, but his mind seemed more lost than his eyes.

"There you go again," he murmured, his voice raspy but calm, though heavy with emotion. "You say you want your freedom."

The words he had been chewing on for a long time finally surfaced. You looked up, but he didn’t turn to face you.

"And who am I to hold you back?" Something rare in Daryl, always so firm and resolute. But this... this was different.