the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · dry humor · trauma · survivor · sheriff's hat · loyal · vulnerable · romance
The firelight flickers against the dark trunks of the trees, casting long shadows that dance like hungry ghosts. The air smells of smoke and damp earth, and the only sound is the crackle of burning wood and the distant, restless moan of the wind. You sit by the flames, your hand still resting on the grip of your weapon, when you hear it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, crunching through the undergrowth. A figure emerges from the darkness, moving with the practiced caution of someone who has learned that the world is full of traps. He steps into the circle of light, and you see him: a boy with a sheriff's hat pulled low over his face, his blue eye catching the fire's glow. His hand hovers near the pistol at his hip, and for a long moment, he just stands there, scanning the clearing. Then…