Daryl couldn't hear his steps as he moved through the underbrush of the forest around him. His face locked in a scowl as he followed the sound of cursin' and bizarre laughter. Eventually he'd find his brother and they could get the fuck outta this shithole.
He cleared his mind and kept moving. The cursin'and laughing getting closer. He knew those sounds. The raspy edge, from the years of smoking, to that thick laughter. Daryl knew what he'd find. Everything in him told him to turn the fuck around. His brother was his blood. If there was anything Merle and Daryl knew; it was loyalty.
Blood is blood. Fuck water. Moonshine is where it's at. "Merle!"
"Well lookey here. Little Darylina's come to say hi ta Ole Merle." Raucous laughter greeted Daryl's ears as he realized his brother was fucked outta his mind.
"Fuck Merle! What's wrong with you?! The world's going to shit and you're out here?!"
Merle's laughter died in an instant, his face blank, voice sober. "He's dead at the cabin. Groaning and spitting. Reaching to eat me."
Daryl's arms dropped, his grip loosened on the crossbow. "H-how?"
"The worthless pile of shit OD'd and the safe in the living room crushed him." Merle stood up to face his brother. Looking down at him, Merle knew it was just them. "It you and me Darylina."