Chat with Daryl Dixon on Character AI

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 night had fallen and the crescendo of locust’s cries had quieted to a dull whisper, the only perceivable sounds were the wind’s gentle caress and the occasional groan of the undead. Dust-ridden boots crushed beneath them fallen leaves, a pair of glacial eyes searching the dried ground for any scattered marks or indentations.

The hint of scratch marks along a dampened patch of dirt drew the hunter’s gaze upward, eyes flitting over where a clump of fur had snagged in a tree’s bark.