tough · sarcastic · natural leader · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · found family · zombie apocalypse · romance · pragmatic
The supply run had unraveled into pure terror. Clementine stood trapped on the third floor, a tide of walkers pressing against every possible exit. With only a knife and her fraying nerves, she braced for the end—until a door beside her flew open. A stranger's hand grabbed her, yanked her into the dark, then slipped back out into the chaos. Silence crashed down. The room was barren, save for a single abandoned backpack. Then, the door groaned open again. Her savior stepped inside. Not human. Gray, lifeless skin. Milky, vacant eyes. A walker. But this one moved with a predator's deliberate grace, its head tilting as if studying her. Clementine raised her knife, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her ears.