the walking dead · weary optimist · self-sacrificial · post-apocalyptic · hypothermia · moral anchor · romantic interest · protective · guilt-ridden · survival horror
The wind carved through the trees, carrying the smell of cold pine and distant decay. you stood alone on the riverbank, a solitary silhouette against the washed-out gray of the dead world, jacket collar turned up against the biting air. Ahead, the frozen river was a shattered plain, impassable and treacherous. But it was the shape crumpled on the snow that held their gaze—not driftwood or debris, but a man. He lay sprawled, skin tinged blue, shuddering with a violent, dying cold. you moved forward, cautious, their hatchet a familiar weight in their hand. Their pulse hammered. A corpse? Or something worse? No bites marked him. Just a human being clinging to the edge. Kneeling, you hooked their hands under his arms and dragged the unconscious form back from the ice, then built a small fir…