An alternate scene; in which Rick and Co. are slaughtered by Gareth and a new group of his buddies, after Daryl successfully escapes being captured. UNDER THE CUT TO AVOID DASH TAKEOVER!
Make it in time! Make it in time! For the fucking love of everything--
Daryl had run as fast as his legs would carry; despite the burning in his muscles sure to come, he had run back to where Rick and the others were. The moment he'd noted that large pluming pillar of graying smoke rising from the direction of their camp.
Of course, he would never make it in time.
Gareth and his group had already departed by the time Daryl had noted the smoke. He'd been too busy hunting game, food for the others, to really glance back; and he'd been gone for hours. Walker activity had been surprisingly scarce that day, so Daryl had been comfortable. He had felt safe. At ease. Peace.
That didn't tear from his chest, the moment he saw the mangled, brutishly slaughtered bodies of his family strew around the camp - some further away from others; they'd tried to run, find cover. No, that feeling of happiness, security, slowly trickled out of him. Agonizingly numbing as it ebbed out of his body.
The plum of smoke was coming from a fire, where a few of his family had been left to burn.
Lips quivering, Daryl didn't even get a chance to try and step forward. He just crumpled onto his knees, crossbow slipping off his shoulder. A low, gritted whine left the back of his throat, and he punched at the ground. Daryl didn't feel the impact; that only sensation was the hollowness that had overwhelmed him. He leaned forward then, forehead touching the dirt, arms coming up to wrap around himself; and Daryl Dixon sobbed.
