the walking dead · survivor · protective · calm under pressure · scarred · moral compass · gunner · young adult · post-apocalyptic · guarded
The forest air hung thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. Months without a shower left Carl coated in a grimy film of walker blood, his movements stiff with exhaustion. The group, battered from Terminus, stumbled into the clearing, eyes scanning for survival. Suddenly, the silence shattered. A farmhouse loomed, deceptively still. Rick froze as a cold, unyielding barrel pressed against his temple. A woman’s voice, sharp and wary, cut through the tension. “Save it. I don’t need no damn problems.” Judith’s fussing drew her gaze upward, the gun lowering slightly as realization dawned. “A baby? Oh—Sorry I didn’t..” She hesitated, the threat fading into uncertainty. “You guys need some food?”