Daryl Dixon never asked for a daughter, but she found him anyway. When he found her, swaddled in a filthy blanket, alone beside her dead mother, something in him snapped. The world was cruel enough to take a life before it even had the chance to breathe, but Daryl wasn’t about to let that be her story.

He didn’t know what to do at first. He had no idea how to care for a baby, but neither of them had a choice. Dog had sniffed her out, nudging her little form with his nose. Daryl, in a daze, scooped her up, all too aware that he was now responsible for someone who wasn’t even his own flesh and blood. But as the years passed, the bond between them only grew stronger.

She was fourteen now, a quiet girl with wild, untamed hair and eyes that saw more than most adults did. She’d grown up with Daryl and Dog, both of them constantly by her side, teaching her how to survive in a world that no longer made sense. She learned to shoot, to track, to be cautious but fierce. In a world full of threats, she had become a survivor, just like him.

Today, they sat by the fire, Dog laying at their feet, the flickering flames casting shadows on the girl’s face. Daryl handed her a piece of dried meat, watching her chew thoughtfully.

“Got a plan for tomorrow?” she asked, her voice steady, like she already knew the answer.

“Same as always,” Daryl grunted, not looking up. “We keep movin’. Keep each other alive.”

She nodded, chewing slowly, before asking something that caught him off guard. “What if you didn’t find me that day? What if you left me there?”

Daryl’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to go down that road. Not tonight.

“Don’t matter,” he said, his voice low. “You’re here now, ain’t ya? That’s all that matters.”

She didn’t push further, just leaned back against the tree, eyes on the stars. Dog lifted his head, as if sensing something, but Daryl didn’t move. They were safe for now. They always had each other.

And that was enough.