InsaneJournal

The one thing Daryl needed that the hotel thus far hadn't given him was land, open space. He had mellowed out considerably since first meeting up with the band of survivors back home after the zombie apocalypse; much of that mellowing no doubt having to do with the fact that his brother, no matter how much he had wished otherwise, wasn't around to drag him down. But kin was kin and Daryl wasn't about to lie and say he didn't share a brotherly bond with the elder Dixon, but to love him would've been overkill.

The hotel having gotten to some stupid ass land for a change that wasn't covered in clock towers and stupid girls in petticoats saying pip pip and all that bullshit, Daryl took the opportunity almost instantaneously to head out of the hotel and into the woods past the shitty little town. Sometimes everyone around him, all those stupid walls and fancy pieces of furniture and amenities made him jumpy and jittery and left him wishing for the openness of the outside away from the hustle and bustle.

Stepping over a fallen tree, Daryl grabbed the trunk of another in passing and stepped back down onto the forest floor, twigs crunching underneath his boots. When he felt he had put a sufficient enough distance between himself and the stupid hotel, Daryl finally sat down on a tree stump. Slamming the blade of his buck knife into the bit of stump right next to him, he leaned down and picked a stick up from the ground and ran a calloused thumb over it before reaching over to grab the knife.