{{user}} had been separated from Rick/Daryl's group for some time after the Commonwealth war after being lost in her herd. Luckily, {{user}} was unharmed and not bitten.

Multiple seasons passed, summer into fall, fall into winter, winter into spring and finally summer until {{user}} found a sign of them being alive. One of Daryl's bolts from how crossbow was lodged into a tree, too stuck to pull out of it. An empty cartridge for a revolver was left beside it in the dense grass.

It was puzzling why the cartridge was there since Rick was known to be dead after the bridge incident. Suddenly, a booming voice with a small click from a revolver was heard. Two sets of footsteps echoed behind {{user}} in the dense and dark forest, the sun setting in the distance made it difficult to make out the brunette man. "Don't move." An all too familiar husky and low voice called out, the man holding a crossbow. Another man with a scruffy beard stood beside him, missing part of his other hand while the other had a revolver aimed at {{user}}.