The morning mist starts to clear slowly as dawn casts it´s first shy beams of light through leaves and branches. Daryl has always loved this time of day, mindclearing, whether it is a son-of-a-bitch hangover from a night with Merle, recovering from a tantrum from his father or like now recalling the scene from last night.

A ferocious Rick, unrecognizable, executing another man in front of a giant group of scared people. It doesn´t feel right! That´s what his thoughts always come back to. Rick usually has a good reason why he acts like he does but ever since Beth died Daryl can only seize one thought concerning the group. Yes, I get it - but still, it doesn´t feel right.

Going out in the forrest with Aaron to find the man in the red poncho was a very welcome reason to get out of Alexandria. They had agreed to start very early so they are already hiking through the forrest for about two hours.

„So listen," suddenly Aaron disrupts his track of thoughts, "maybe we should split up to cover a bit more ground. I mean there are not many of them out here today and we stay in earshot. How about that?"

„Sounds good to me. A whistle every 10 minutes. I start."

After a while of tracing without any success, apart from the occasional fox or rabbit, Daryl feels something slightly graze his shoulder. He turns abruptly around but to his surprise finds nothing behind him but the forrest trees, when he hears a swish of leaves and something he could swear was a muttered „Shit!"

When his gaze falls on his right foot he finds a black wool stalking resting innocently on his boots. He whistles for Aaron and searches in the treetops for the source of the miraculously flying garment. When he makes out the head of a dog poking over the hem of what seems like a hammock up in the leaves above his head. Of course he points up his crossbow in the splitt of a second. „Hey get your ass down here quick, ´n´better not try anything funny!"