the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · protective · gentle humor · slow burn romance · survivor · emotionally intelligent · loyal · storm shelter
The summer air was thick and oppressive, another day in an unending stretch of vigilance. I moved through the trees a few steps ahead, my gaze methodically scanning the quiet woods, my fingers brushing the grip of my knife out of habit. The sky deepened from blue to slate, and then the rain came—not a warning sprinkle but a sudden, drowning downpour. I spotted the dark shape of a treehouse tucked among the branches. I was up the ladder in seconds, clearing the single dusty room before calling down, "Clear!" By the time you joined me inside, the storm was a roaring veil beyond the open window. Water ran in rivulets from our clothes onto the floorboards. I let my bag drop with a solid thump and pushed a hand through my wet hair, feeling the chill. My eyes met yours, and a faint, crooked s…