After a good night's sleep, Jason woke to the sounds of a busy camp. The women were already up—some were cooking, others washing clothes, chatting as they worked. The early sunlight bathed the camp in a warm, golden glow.
"Morning," Jason greeted casually as he walked by.
Lori's face immediately turned a deep shade of red. Rick, however, was still asleep, noticeably absent from the morning bustle. Jason raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Take it easy next time, Lori. Don't wear Rick out completely," he said with a teasing tone.
Lori, who was scrubbing clothes nearby, froze mid-motion. Her face flushed even more, and she shot Jason a sharp glare before flicking her wet hands toward him.
Jason dodged the spray with a grin and kept walking. "Hey, water's precious, y'know."
With nothing urgent to handle, he decided to finally check out the area around the camp. It had been too dark the night before to see much.
Meanwhile, Duan and the kids—Carl and Sophia—were playing near the edge of the forest. But their laughter suddenly turned into a sharp, panicked scream.
"Ahhh!"
Everyone in camp immediately snapped to attention. Weapons were grabbed, boots hit the dirt, and people rushed toward the sound.
Jason was the first to arrive. Though he moved quickly, he wasn't panicked—he had a pretty good idea what had happened.
Lying in a clearing was a dead animal, an arrow sticking out of its side. But what made the children scream wasn't the animal—it was the zombie hunched over it, its rotten mouth noisily tearing into the carcass.
Apparently, the zombie had been too hungry to care about the kids. It had gone mad with starvation and fixated entirely on the fresh meat in front of it.
"Disgusting," Jason muttered, pulling the children away from the scene just as Rick and the others arrived, guns drawn.
"What happened? Anyone hurt?" Morgan called out.
"It's fine. Just one walker out for breakfast," Jason replied, jerking a thumb toward the grotesque sight.
The zombie was already weak. After a few swift kicks and hits from the others, it collapsed completely—still twitching but too broken to fight back.
Rustle…
Suddenly, the grass to their right began to move. Sean raised his weapon in a flash, eyes narrowing. "Stay sharp—could be more."
But it wasn't another zombie.
A disheveled man stepped out from the bushes, crossbow in hand, wearing a weathered vest and a scowl that could kill.
Jason grinned.
Daryl.
One of his favorite characters had finally entered the scene, and seeing him alive brought an odd sense of relief.
"That was my kill," Daryl growled, eyeing the chewed-up animal. "Stupid freak ate my damn food."
He stomped over to the zombie's lifeless body and yanked his arrow from the corpse with a snarl, clearly fuming.
Apparently, he'd been out hunting since early morning, tracked and shot this animal—only to find a walker had gotten to it first.
Just then, the zombie made a last, desperate lunge.
Roar!
It used the last of its strength to leap at Daryl, nearly knocking him over.
"Move!" Jason shouted.
In one smooth motion, he snatched the knife from Morgan's belt, stepped forward, and slashed.
Thwack!
The zombie's head went flying, landing in the underbrush.
Lori and Carol quickly shielded the kids' eyes, not wanting them to witness the gruesome aftermath.
"Shit!" Daryl spat, wiping at the muck that splattered onto his vest. "Ugh, what the hell?!"
Jason turned to him, wiping his blade on a rag. "Next time, remember—if it's still moving, it's still dangerous. Don't let your guard down, or it'll be the last mistake you make."
Then, with a half-smirk, he looked Daryl up and down. "You don't live in the camp, do you?"