|previously known as Insomnia|
(DARYL DIXON)
*
(THE WALKING DEAD)
|Season 2-11|
|Slow Burn|
Started: May of 2020
Finished: March of 2023
|I do not own any of The Walking Dead or plot, only my OCs and plot line|
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ARGUMENTS-002
"Sophia!" Daryl's voice called out, walking around as he scans the environment.
He received nothing, no response as he climbed up the hill and mounted the horse. They walked through the forest again, Daryl's blue eyes trained on the ground to look for any signs of the little girl.
A flock of birds took off, startling the horse as it neighs and moves back.
"Easy, easy," Daryl assures, holds tighter in the reins.
Suddenly, a snake strikes the horse's leg making the horse to lose its shit. It neighs and bucks Daryl off.
Landing on the ground, Daryl rolled down the long hill, sliding down some watery rocks before landing on the water.
"Son of a bitch," he groans, his hand clutching at his side to reveal an arrow that had impaled him.
Blood coated the right side of his temple, eyes trained on the arrow. He grunted in pain, pants escaped from his mouth from the discomfort of the arrow.
Gritting his teeth, Daryl slowly got up from the water and started clawing his way out. At the bank, he ripped off his sleeves, tying them around his wound to insure the bleeding would stop and not get infected.
He looked up, noticing how high he had to climb in order to get out of the water. Daryl grabbed a large stick, using it in the water to find his crossbow.
When the stick hit something hard, his hand stop into the water and snatched up his weapon. Then, he began to climb up the hill, using branches and roots and his stick as leverage to not fall.
"Oh, come on," he murmurs, hand wrapped around a root. "You've done half. Stop being such a pussy. Come on."
He takes a deep breath and lunged straight up, grabbing onto a tree's root. His foot slipped, and he went tumbling down the hall, rocks and dirt and trees hitting his body.
He landed on the ground with a loud thud, crying out in pain. The sounds of footsteps nearing him, his eyes slowly opened, his vision a bit blurred.
The figure came into his sight was Merle Dixion, his older brother.
"Why don't you pull that arrow out, dummy?" He inquires "You could bind your wound better."
The redneck closes his eyes, smiling a bit. "Merle."
The older Dixion hums, smirking wildly. "What's going on here? You taking a siesta or something?"
