New World (D.Dixon) ~rewritten~

•chapter 17• <rewrite>

**The end is near**

< Rewritten Verison >

Word Count — 8017
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Alessia's POV.

As Alessia walked away with Hershel, Daryl stood silently, his eyes scanning the group, but his thoughts were miles away. The weight of Dale's death still hung in the air, thick and heavy. Everyone had said their goodbyes, paid their respects in their own way. But for Daryl, it was harder. He had always admired Dale's wisdom, his voice of reason, even when it wasn't easy to hear. Losing him felt like losing a bit of humanity, a reminder that the world they had once known was long gone.

He didn't need to be around all the chatter and plans. Daryl's place was always on the perimeter, watching, waiting. He was the one who kept an eye out for threats, who ensured that the camp didn't get overrun. He didn't need to be surrounded by people to keep them safe—he did that best when he was alone.

He caught sight of Alessia again, her figure moving towards the truck with Shane. He couldn't quite explain the knot in his stomach every time she was around him, but there it was. He couldn't let himself get distracted, not with everything they were facing, but he couldn't help the way his eyes followed her as she disappeared into the truck with Shane.

The drive out to the fence wasn't long, but in the silence, he found himself chewing on his own thoughts. Shane had been pushing for Alessia's attention for a while now, and Daryl wasn't sure how to feel about it. He could see the way Shane had tried to make things right after the awkward kiss, but even that didn't sit well with Daryl. He wasn't used to being the one that cared about someone, and now that he was, the whole situation felt more complicated than he ever anticipated.

When Shane and Alessia returned, Daryl didn't speak to her immediately, but he noticed the slight flush in her cheeks as she joined the group. She looked tired, but she still managed to smile and nod to him as she went to help Hershel. It was a small thing, but it always made his chest tighten in a way he didn't fully understand.

As the conversation around them shifted to the logistics of moving everyone into the house, Daryl stayed on the edge, leaning against the windmill, his eyes scanning the horizon.

He didn't like the idea of being packed into a house with everyone else. There was too much risk. Too many people. And he wasn't about to leave his camp unprotected. It didn't matter how much Hershel or Rick tried to convince him—it wasn't about fitting in or being part of the group anymore. It was about survival.

"Okay, let's move the vehicles closer to the house, facing them away from the house in case we need to run," Rick's voice cut through the murmurs of the group, snapping Daryl from his thoughts.

His jaw tightened. That was a solid plan. Always thinking ahead.

Hershel, ever the optimist, said something about the farm and cattle, but Daryl didn't catch the details. His attention was already elsewhere—on Alessia, who was walking back to him with a crate of milk jugs from the old man. She had a look of determination, her head held high as she approached him. Her presence was steadying, even when everything else felt uncertain.

"I'll stock the basement with food and water in case we need to stay there a few days if need be." Hershel's voice trailed off as he nodded at Alessia, but Daryl was already moving, stepping away from the windmill.

"I'll help you, Mr. Greene." Alessia's voice, light and almost musical, carried as she jogged up to him.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Hershel smiled warmly, his eyes softening as she took the crate from him.