Daryl Dixon was not emotional. Not in public at least. He could barely remember the last time he let someone in. Let them comfort him. Last time it was her. Allie. The only girl he had ever truly cared about. He remembered her. Long, black, smooth hair, paired with vibrant blue-green-gray eyes that always would light up when she did something she loved. He missed her. Her laugh, her smile, her attitude. The way she could calm him down so easily and make him smile so quickly. She was his rock, his love, his everything. She influenced him so much, and he loved it. The dirty, tired man groaned and hit his head against the tree behind him. Why did he lose her? When the thing, the zombies, started, he had told her to stay put and he would come back with supplies. But after 3 months of wandering he never found his way back to her. He didn't know what happened to her. He was worried she got bit, she never was very violent, he didn't think she could kill a walker.
"She's probably dead anyway," he muttered, getting up off the forest floor. He stomped through the woods, crossbow strapped across his back, looking for any game that passed. His head shot to the left as he heard a groan. Loading his crossbow, he held it ready and turned. Slowly walking, he cautiously checked out the area. He looked out from behind a tree to see a small clearing. He let out a groan at the sight and aimed his crossbow. There was a group of about 6 walkers, all surrounding one girl. There were other bodies on the ground, enough that it proved the girl must be tired. He released an arrow, hitting a walker in the back of the head. He reloaded and shot down another walker, then repeated the process till all the walkers lay on the ground. He hesitantly approached the girl who was panting. She slowly turned to him, long black hair matted with blood, dull blue-green-gray eyes to match the sullen expression on her face. He held in a gasp as her eyes widened, a tiny spark in them. A spark of hope. He dropped his bow and ran to her, embracing her tightly. She weakly wrapped her arms around his neck as his wound around her waist. He let out a broken sob as he buried his head in her neck.
"Allie," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he clutched her small body. Holding her tightly so she couldn't escape and no one could take her away.
"I love you Daryl," he heard her voice whisper into his ear. He nodded and picked her up.
"I love you. Gonna get ya fixed up ya hear? Just hold on Baby doll," he whispered, cradling her in his arms so her arms were still wrapped around his neck. She sighed in contentment, her face now buried in his neck, breathing in the all too familiar scent of Daryl. No cologne, or smoke, or alcohol, just Daryl. He carried her out of the clearing, expertly grabbing his bow without letting go off her. He had lost her once. And as he carried the small girl in his arms he promised never to lose her again.