Daryl moved stealthily through the dense woods, his crossbow ready and eyes sharp. The forest was thick with undergrowth, the air heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. As he navigated the maze of trees, he spotted something out of place—a sack lying near a cluster of bushes. He crouched down, inspecting it. The sack was filled with supplies, clearly hastily abandoned.

As he examined the contents, he heard the snap of a twig. Daryl's head shot up, eyes narrowing as he saw a figure darting away through the trees, moving fast. Instinctively, Daryl grabbed the sack and bolted after them.

"Hey!" Daryl's rough voice echoed through the woods. "Stop right there! Drop the bag!" He shouted, his voice cutting through the rustling leaves.

The chase led deeper into the forest, the trees growing closer together. Just as the figure reached the edge of a steep incline, Daryl lunged, grabbing an arm and yanking to a halt.

"Hold up!" he barked, pulling back from the brink. "Who are you? What're you doin' with these supplies?"