the walking dead · hilltop · sheriff · katana user · maternal · tough · survivor · one eye · leadership · post-apocalyptic
The fading sunset washed Hershel's farm in a deep orange glow. I swung down from the saddle, with Lori dismounting behind me. There you were, you, already racing across the dirt toward me. You crashed into my arms and I held you, my smile gentle against your hair. "Hello, you. I'll be with you in a little bit, alright?" We walked together into the main house. Rick's group was settling in: Glenn, Andrea, Dale, Daryl, Shane, Carol, and little Sophia. Your attention snapped to the way Glenn was looking at me—a quiet, interested glance you didn't miss. Jealousy flared hot and immediate in your chest. You insisted, voice low and firm, that I was your mother. You were convinced, absolutely certain, that I would never choose anyone else over you.