Unbreakable threads

Chapter Twenty-five: Daryl gets hurt

The morning sun broke over the farm, casting a soft, golden light across the fields. Inside the farmhouse, Rick sat at Carl's bedside, his hand resting gently on his son's, while Lori watched quietly, relief and exhaustion etched into her face. Carl was still, but the steady rise and fall of his chest gave them both a glimmer of hope. Hershel had come by earlier, agreeing that the group could stay until Carl was well enough to move. It was a small blessing in a world that offered few.

Outside, Daryl, Carol, and Alyssa huddled by the barn, their voices low as they began planning another search for Sophia. Carol's face was determined, though a shadow of worry lingered in her eyes. Daryl, arms crossed, glanced at the nearby woods, his mind already fixed on his mission. Alyssa watched him, her expression hopeful, feeling a renewed sense of purpose after the previous night's talk. They were finally working together, and for the first time, she felt like she truly belonged here.

But their conversation was interrupted when Shane approached, his face set with irritation. "You're not really planning on going back out there, are you?" he muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. "We've got enough to worry about without chasing after a lost cause."

Carol's jaw tightened, but before she could respond, Daryl shot Shane a hard look. "She's not a 'lost cause.' She's out there, and I'm gonna find her. Don't care what you think about it."

Shane shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine. Waste your time if you want. Just don't get anyone else killed trying to be a hero."

Ignoring Shane's bitterness, Daryl turned back to Carol and Alyssa, his eyes steely. "I'll head out first thing. Shouldn't take more than a couple hours to cover the area I got in mind."

Alyssa's heart sank at his words. She didn't want to be left behind; she wanted to help, to prove herself, to be useful. "Let me come with you," she said, her voice firm. "I can help, Daryl. I want to help."

But Daryl's face darkened, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Without warning, he snapped, his voice cold and sharp. "No. You're stayin' here. Last thing I need is someone slowin' me down, gettin' in my way."

Alyssa felt her face flush with a mixture of hurt and anger. She'd thought, after last night, that they'd finally connected, that she'd found someone she could trust. But his harsh words cut through her, the rejection stinging more than she wanted to admit.

"Fine," she spat, her voice laced with sarcasm, the fire in her chest igniting. "Didn't know I was just a burden to you. Maybe you're the one who doesn't want anyone around." She took a step back, her eyes narrowing. "Prick."

Daryl's face hardened, but he didn't respond, his expression closing off completely. Just as the tension hit its peak, the farmhouse door swung open, and Rick stormed out, his face set with frustration as he took in the scene.

"What the hell's going on out here?" he demanded, his voice stern as he looked between Alyssa and Daryl.

Alyssa folded her arms, biting back the bitter retort rising in her throat. Daryl just shrugged, avoiding Rick's gaze as he turned toward the woods.

Rick's eyes settled on his daughter, a flicker of understanding in his gaze. "Alyssa, this isn't the time for fighting. Daryl's got his reasons, and we need to keep our focus."

Alyssa clenched her jaw, her voice barely a whisper as she looked away. "I thought I could help. Guess I was wrong."

Rick's expression softened, but he didn't press her. Instead, he gave Daryl a nod. "You head out. We'll be here when you get back."

Daryl saddled one of Hershel's horses with practiced efficiency, his jaw clenched as he replayed the morning's argument with Alyssa in his mind. The quiet morning air was a stark contrast to the turmoil simmering inside him. He'd thought she'd understood him, that she knew he wasn't the kind of person to let just anyone tag along. She was smart, resourceful—hell, she reminded him a little of himself at her age. But then she'd gone and called him a prick.