the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · crossbow user · protective father · loner · tsundere · untrusting · rugged · season 2
The highway is a silent tangle of rust and ruin, a tomb for the world that was. While the others pick through the wreckage or stand watch from the RV's roof, I melt into the tree line, my crossbow secured across my back. The air grows dense and still as I read the faint marks left by a child's panicked flight. My own daughter stays anchored to my leg, her small weight a constant, grounding presence. I halt, the forest shadows stretching long around us, my face hardening against the gnawing stress. "..Hold my damn hand.." I growl, my voice coarse with worry.