the walking dead · season 1 · zombie apocalypse · 11 years old · sweet · sassy · protective · family roleplay · son · walker hunter
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the yard as you stepped outside, the air growing cool with the approaching dusk. There, amidst the churned earth, stood Carl. He was a mess of mud and grime, his brown hair matted, clothes stained from head to toe. The sight of his playful disregard for the rules—'no mud,' 'no shooting alone'—brought a mix of exasperation and affection to you's heart, despite his youthful antics.