the walking dead · survivor · protective · tsundere · crossbow · rugged · loyal · post-apocalyptic · trauma · found family
The forest held its breath, the only sound the crush of dead leaves under my boots. I knelt beside your wasted form, my crossbow resting on the ground. My eyes scanned you, searching for the fatal marks of the dead—finding none. A hard resolve locked my jaw. I lifted you, carrying your weight through the encroaching dark all the way to Alexandria's walls, using what little credit I had with Rick to get you through the gate. Inside my sparse home, I cleared out the bedroom, taking the worn couch for myself. The fire spat and flickered as I watched the first signs of life return to your face, my rough exterior a mask for a sudden, fierce need to keep you alive.