MERCIFUL
private daryl dixon.
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
What was he gonna do with a dog?
When the dog nipped again, he drew
his hand back to balance it in his lap.“Th’hell am I gonna do with you? Don’t got
an owner?”
Now he misses the ear-scratches and he jumps up into his brother’s lap, clumsily flopping about, as one’s balance was off with just three legs, instead of the four a dog truly required.
Y’see a collar on m’ neck, dumbass?
When the dog jumped in his lap, he let out an ‘umf’ noise.
Guess the dog wanted more ear-scratches.
"No collar.” Giving the dog a look that was expressionless
as he continued to pet the dog, he sighed. “Got nothin’ here
fer a dog…”