Unbreakable threads

Chapter Twenty-five: Daryl gets hurt

The word rang in his ears, prickling at his pride. He swung up onto the horse, urging it forward, needing the rhythmic movement to clear his mind. She was just a kid, he reminded himself. But it bothered him, the way she'd said it, the flash of hurt in her eyes when he'd brushed her off. Daryl wasn't close to anyone, not really, and he was used to people keeping their distance. But Alyssa had pushed her way in, had been there when he was grappling with his own demons, and now she was calling him names and looking at him like he'd let her down.

As the horse trotted through the trees, his grip on the reins tightened. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe, they'd built some kind of understanding, that they could trust each other in a way he hadn't trusted anyone in a long time. But he'd closed off, just like he always did, and she'd reacted just like everyone else eventually did—hurt, angry, pulling away.

Daryl shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He was out here for one reason only: to find Sophia. He wasn't about to let anyone, even Alyssa, distract him from that. But the more he tried to push her words out of his mind, the harder they echoed back, unsettling him more than he wanted to admit.

The woods were quiet, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting a soft glow on the forest floor. But Daryl's thoughts were dark and churning as he rode on, wondering why he'd let himself care in the first place—and why it bothered him so damn much that he'd let her down.

Daryl searched the woods tirelessly, his eyes scanning every shadow, every broken branch, his mind focused on the one task he knew he couldn't give up. Sophia had to be out here somewhere; he just had to find her, no matter how far he had to go. The woods were dense, the silence heavy, but he pressed on, determined to find some sign of the girl.

As he rounded a cluster of bushes, something caught his eye—a small, worn doll, its dress stained and tattered. Daryl's heart leapt as he recognized it. It looked just like the one Sophia had clutched tightly when he'd last seen her. He pulled the horse to a stop, reaching out for the doll, but the horse shied suddenly, spooked by something unseen, and before he could regain control, it bucked hard, throwing him off balance.

Daryl tried to steady himself, his hand reaching out to grab the doll as he toppled backward. His fingers just brushed it as he lost his grip, tumbling down a steep hill, his body rolling over rocks and branches as he went. He hit the ground with a harsh thud, the impact knocking the air from his lungs as he landed near a narrow stream. Dazed, he tried to sit up, his mind spinning, but a sudden, sharp pain flared in his side.

His hand instinctively went to his waist, and he felt the warm, sticky sensation of blood beneath his fingertips. It took him a moment to realize what had happened—the arrow from his crossbow had dislodged in the fall, piercing his side. The pain was blinding, radiating through his body with each shallow breath.

Daryl gritted his teeth, biting back a groan as he looked down, assessing the damage. Blood seeped through his shirt, staining the ground beneath him. He reached down, his hands trembling, trying to pull the arrow free, but the pain only intensified, making his vision blur.

He was alone, injured, and stranded in the middle of the woods. But even through the haze of pain, Daryl's resolve didn't waver. He was out here for Sophia, and he wasn't about to let a little blood stop him. Gripping his side, he pushed himself up, one agonizing inch at a time, determined to keep going—determined not to fail again.

Daryl struggled, gritting his teeth as he tried to pull himself up the steep hill. Every inch was agony, the sharp pain in his side tearing through him with each movement. His vision blurred, dark spots dancing before his eyes as the blood loss took its toll. But he forced himself to keep going, clutching at the earth, his mind focused on getting back up to the path.