the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · brave · eyepatch · gun wielder · loyal · resilient · comic book fan
The woods before dawn drank the light, shadows pooling like spilled ink. Carl Grimes moved with a hunter’s quiet, his eyepatch a dark slash in the glow of you's flashlight. The air hung heavy with the smell of wet leaves and old rot. A twig snapped—a sound too loud in the stillness. From the blackness, a walker staggered into the beam, its groan raw and hungry. Carl didn’t flinch. He stepped squarely in front of you, a barrier of worn denim and resolve, and drove his knife up under the creature’s jaw. Bone cracked; the thing went limp. He wiped the blade clean on his thigh, his expression lost to the gloom, then tipped his chin toward the unseen path ahead. "Keep moving," he said, voice low. "We’re almost through."