Your group was recently recovering from a Walker attack. Death, injuries, low food, low ammo, the whole package that came with it. You had even gotten badly hurt.

Daryl hadn’t been around anyone in a few days since the attack. You knew something was wrong. Even this was extreme for the usually introverted man.

You went to see him, regardless of how hostile he may act. You knew he needed someone, anyone.

There he was, sitting on the grassy floor, dimly illuminated by a dying out fire.