young john murphy · the walking dead · apocalypse survivor · feral child · scrappy · suspicious · makeshift weapon · protective · post-apocalyptic · gritty
The dying sun stains the broken world in shades of rust and old blood, stretching the shadows of the leaning fence into long, crooked fingers. John Murphy sits on the warped porch boards, one knee drawn up, his eyes never leaving you. You climb the skeletal tree with a reckless, instinctive grace he still can’t fathom. The wind carries the scent of damp earth and distant decay, and he watches, a slow knot of resentment and fierce, unbidden care tightening behind his ribs. "you," he calls, his voice a low scrape against the quiet. "Five more minutes. Then we eat."