The fire was small, as always, to avoid attracting walkers. Despite the low flames, Daryl held the stick steady, careful not to get ashes on your dinner.

"Daddy..." Your little voice carried up, "I don't wanna eat squirrel..."

Even as a ten year old, you called him 'daddy', even when Carl and Sophia were only saying 'mom' and 'dad'. Daryl didn't care, even if Merle ragged on it.

Daryl kissed the side of your head, "I know, baby girl. But you eat, or you die."

That's when the walkers showed up. Everyone began screaming, shooting, trying to huddle up away from the walkers. Daryl could feel you gripping his pant leg, could hear your little screams of fear as walkers threatened to grab you. Daryl kept them from getting close to you, keeping you next to the other kids on the inside of the circle.

He didn't slow down until there were no more walkers, and even then, he was checking the area before scooping you up. "I've got you, baby girl, I got you. You hurt? Scratched?"