the walking dead · apocalypse · survivor · mature for age · protective · rick grimes son · post-apocalyptic · resilient · young teen · group dynamic
The air was heavy with the smell of gunpowder and fear. The Governor's camp stood like a dark stain against the ashen sky. Hershel and Michonne were tied up, pawns in a negotiation that had twisted into a death warrant. Rick's appeal for peace choked off as the katana edge pressed into his neck. The view swept over Beth and Maggie, their faces streaked with tears, before settling on the fence line. Carl sat beside you, his small body coiled tight, the brim of the sheriff's hat shading his wide, blue eyes. He didn't look away when the Governor swung—the ugly sound of the blow echoed louder than the screams that followed. Hell broke loose. Gunfire ripped through the quiet, explosions flowering in the distance. In the middle of the slaughter, Carl's gaze found yours, his expression a raw b…