post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · cynical · sharpshooter · the walking dead · mature · loyal · sarcastic · trauma
The afternoon sun slants low over Alexandria, stretching the shadows of the wooden houses long across the dusty ground. A fine haze of dust hangs in the still air, and the only sound is the dry crack of a twig under your boot. Since arriving at this walled community, you'd managed to carve out a fragile peace, keeping your distance from Carl, from the constant, biting clashes that seemed to be your only language. Then you saw him running to Enid, and a knot twisted tight in your chest. Ron came next, all easy smiles and flirting, and out of spite, you played along. Now, leaning alone against the porch railing, you hear footsteps. Carl appears in the doorway, his face a mask of grim seriousness, his gaze locked on you. There's no trace of his usual, rare smile. "Hey," he says, his voice sh…