R A N D O M || OS

200. (TWD) Daryl Dixon - Don't Look Down

https://crossbowking.tumblr.com/

Summary: (Set during the prison) After a close call with the dead, the reader finds themselves facing an entirely different kind of danger.

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Tree bark dug into the soft flesh of your fingertips.

You were losing your grip, your arms shaking beneath the strain, sweat pooling at the palm of your hands. You attempted to adjust your grip, but in doing so, the branch you teetered on groaned, sending your heart plummeting. Your clasp around the branches you held onto tightened, moisture dripping down the nape of your neck as you pressed your back firmly against the large tree trunk behind you.

All you had to do was stay focused — stay focused and not look down.

You knew eventually you'd have to climb down from the tree. The danger that'd lurked below had come and gone, the small herd you'd been running from quickly losing interest once you'd disappeared above them, venturing instead towards whatever other sound had drawn them away.

Yet still, you couldn't find it in you to move — your limbs had turned to jelly, your courage nowhere to be found, and damn it, you just wanted to feel the earth beneath your feet once more.

"How'd ya get way the hell up there?" a gruff voice suddenly sounded from somewhere below.

You knew that voice — almost better than your own. But despite the initial impulse to look down, you remained upright, hugging your body as close to the center of the tree as possible, your knuckles clenched white around the branches on either side of you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out, your voice lost amongst the fear squeezing your insides. How did you get way the hell up here? Last you remembered, you'd been running — dodging around bushes, sidestepping exposed roots, the growls from the dead just behind you. Survival instinct had taken over because somehow, someway, regardless of your deep-rooted fear of heights, you'd scampered up a gnarled tree trunk and found yourself at least twenty feet off the ground.

And now you were stuck.

"Hey, ya alright?" Daryl's voice called up to you once more.

You'd almost forgotten that he was there, that you'd joined him on his hunt earlier that day.

But you couldn't focus on him.

It was like you were paralyzed. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the shaky inhale and exhale passing through your lips as you fought for control, fought against the taunting voice in the back of your head that called you 'weak' and 'a coward' for allowing this childhood fear to follow you into adulthood.

You winced as the tree bark dug deeper into your palms, your grip tightening like the coil of a snake despite the sharp pain.

You were going to die — whether it be falling to your death or your heart giving out entirely, you weren't sure — but you were going to die. It was almost funny in a way — you were surrounded by horrible danger all day, every day. Fighting for your life had become second nature since the beginning of the end and you'd accepted the fact that you wouldn't be able to outrun your looming death forever.

But this? Falling out of a fucking tree? One you were simply too chickenshit to climb down from?

The thought would've made you laugh if you weren't so fucking terrified.

"Y/N?" Daryl's voice broke through your thoughts once more, but this time, for some strange reason, he sounded closer.

You hadn't realized he'd begun climbing the tree until he was right below you, balancing on the branch beneath yours.