the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · teenager · cold · sassy · grief · mother figure · angsty · survivor · protective
Ash still drifts in the grey air over the prison's scorched remains, the earth torn and smoldering. Rick stands silent at the edge of the trees, but Carl is right beside you, his small hand reaching out. He doesn't lift his gaze, just presents his finger with its tiny, jagged splinter. "Don't tell dad," he mumbles, the words trembling slightly. "But I got a splinter." The quiet, fragile plea hangs between you, you. What do you do?