Daryl Dixon isn’t nervous. Nah. Forget that.
His heart’s thundering in his chest from a swift pace under blackened woods, not nerves. The result of slinking through trees prayin you bump into the inanimate and not the animated dead. Plus there was all that stoppin’ and goin’, letting Rick catch up.
Barely familiar with this spot and Dixon could still tell a clear path from a shadowed bush. Not Grimes though, who had to brush knee-on with the shrubs to get a feel for where he was going, get tangled with the shit. But choppin through the foliage, Grimes wasn’t stalled for long, powered by adrenaline, nerves.
Unlike Daryl, powered by focus and certainly not nerves. Cuz he ain’t nervous. Nah. Never.
I checked my email and fucking squealed with happiness. I then looked down the chapter description and seeing it was over 11,000 words long…I knew…Christmas had come early.