3:Cold as death
"_Who's idea was it again, going north so the living dead are frozen, but forgot to tell that we'd freeze, too?"
Daryl was talking to himself, his mind so hazy he couldn't tell if he thought or said those words. Either way, he was a mess, his face had reddened from the cold and he couldn't feel his limbs anymore, but they still kept him moving, as if his very body knew that staying in one place for too long meant death.
But dying wasn't an option anymore: it was the only ending to this hell.
His legs finally gave in, knees buckling as he fell to the ground. That cold, snow covered soil would most likely support his corpse in a few hours, and in the state of tiredness he was in, it almost felt comfortable under him.
The darkness was surrounding him and his vision was blurred. He couldn't think straight anymore and he honestly didn't want to.
The night was so cold he thought he wouldn't wake the next morning, but his eyelids fluttered open when the morning light hit his face and slightly warmed up his body. He rose to his feet, struggling a little at first. Physically rested, he continued on his journey to nowhere.
As fate played tricks and toyed with him, he was hoping, silently praying he would meet someone from the jail group. He lost and found Rick, Beth, Carol and the others so many times it looked like they were connected in some way.
But as he walked and passed towns, he couldn't find anybody. He didn't know what to do, there was no plan to follow or be made. So he walked, his crossbow slung over his shoulder.
And as he made his way along the empty road, Daryl guessed he was back at those lonely yet worry-less days. Merle wasn't here anymore, but heck, he could get anything he wanted and live just fine by himself in this cold, snowy land.