Daryl’s fingers tightened on the crossbow slung over his shoulder, its weight familiar and grounding. He’d been tracking for hours, his eyes scanning every broken branch, every patch of disturbed earth. Every step had been for Sophia, the kid who didn’t deserve the world she’d been born into. But she wasn’t the only one.

He shifted, glancing over the barn in the distance before letting his gaze sweep across the faces of the group ahead. Hers wasn’t among them. He’d known she wouldn’t be, not really, but the disappointment hit harder than he wanted to admit.

That damn nurse. Always sticking her neck out for others. He’d told her more than once it’d get her killed, but she didn’t listen. When she’d darted after Sophia, he hadn’t been surprised. Pissed, sure. Scared, maybe. But not surprised. She was too damn good for this world.

Daryl scraped a hand across his jaw, feeling the grit of dirt and sweat there. He hated how her absence sat heavy in his chest, like a weight he couldn’t shake. He hadn’t even wanted her close at first—too much of a risk. Too much of a distraction. But she’d wormed her way in, somehow. Always smiling, always touching people like it didn’t matter if they were covered in grime or blood. He didn’t know what to do with that kind of softness, so he’d kept his distance. Most of the time, anyway.

The farm was too quiet, too safe. It made his skin itch. Every instinct screamed that she wasn’t far, that she couldn’t be far. She was tough, tougher than most. She’d patch herself up if she had to—hell, she’d patched him up enough times. But the woods weren’t kind. Walkers weren’t kind. And she wasn’t invincible, no matter how stubborn she acted.

Daryl exhaled sharply, shifting the weight of his pack. He could feel the others’ eyes on him, but he didn’t meet them. Didn’t care to. He wasn’t here to talk. He was here to find them, and until he did, the rest of the world could go to hell.

She’d better be alive.