Let’s just go ahead and skip the part where Daryl liked spending his days wandering around Marrowood. That has already been clearly established; he was vaguely aware of how many people had seen him wander by on a regular basis at this point. Now, it was just a matter of the little things that he did in the meantime. He’d previously run into two different women-- an older woman who’d taken to simply walking away after randomly speaking to him, and another younger one who carried a bow and arrow and knew how to hunt.
But socialising was never his best trait. In days past, he left much of the talking to Merle, and he was typically just there to grind the point of what the older Dixon was saying into the heads of the people they were talking to. As the months turned to years living among the walking dead, he’d matured significantly.
That said, he had made a couple of acquaintances within Marrowood. Not too many, of course, which suited him just as well. It was with that in mind that, as he came down the street and a figure sitting on a log came into sight, he began to recognise that figure. He’d met her sometime ago, back when he was still relatively new to the town.
“Gretel,” he said, adjusting the crossbow’s strap so that it settled a little better against his back. He glanced over what she was doing, and let silence fall between them for a moment.
“Gettin’ ready for somethin’?” he asked, though his tone suggested he thought it a redundant question. In Marrowood, it seemed like your only options were to be prepared to fight, or prepared to die.