His growl was barely audible as he stomped through the zone. Having pulled a double and only just gotten off not even two hours before, he was ready to go to sleep after showering and having very little luck putting Judith back down. Noah was with her now.
For the last couple of weeks that baby just didn't sleep through the night. At the same times they had movement outside their walls. No one was getting sleep in that house. Between him, Carl, Rick, Judith, Michonne, and Noah.
There was commotion amongst the night patrol as he kept walking on. Could no one do their fucking jobs around here? It had been more than eight months since the family came to the ASZ and time had gone by slowly. The days without her seemed to blur together. He didn't care much.
By this point, Rick was running the Zone and having seen out on the road, the bloodthirsty desperation Daryl had to protect their family, the people Beth loved, he appointed Daryl to run the security detail and reinforce the fences.
Not much bit of good any of that shit did them. There was a breach in their defenses and someone was found. The other one that came through got away, leaving their friend behind. Coward. Daryl scoffed as he tightened his grip on this crossbow with one hand and checked if the ivory handled knife was still tucked into its sheath at his hip right next to the big black one she found for him.
"Daryl! Come quick!" He could hear her from outside. The urgency in her voice had him running. And run he did, making it to her faster than he knew he could move. Protecting her was his main priority.
He scanned the perimeter of the house before going in. Nothing was around. He ran inside and saw her kneeling off the foyer, on the floor. A large expanse of wall was open and she was looking through a big black bag. The hidden wall was like one of those DIY things she was telling him about.
"Wha're you yellin' at girl?!" His voice was gruff as the adrenaline faded from his system and he stared down at her.
"Look!" She finally turned around and showed him what was in her hand. She held it out to him, handle first.
"It's so pretty and wicked. For you! I noticed since I took mine from you, you needed one." There was no comprehension in his face as he just looked down at her. An unidentifiable look in his eyes. But the smallest smile pulling at the corners of his lips told her everything.
She stood up and held the black handled knife to him. The blade itself measured over eight inches of pure steel. The handle looked like black]-stained ivory. The craftsmanship was extraordinary.
It wasn't until a couple of weeks later that they discovered that both of their knives were from the same collection, the same set . . . due to the corresponding and consecutive numbers imprinted on the very bottom of both blades' hilts.