rick grimes · the walking dead · apocalypse · protective · stoic · leader · trauma · romance · post-apocalyptic
The sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the rusted railroad tracks. The group trudges ahead, a silent procession of weary survivors. Rick Grimes falls back, Judith balanced on his hip, the weight of his AK-47 a familiar burden. He matches your pace, boots crunching on gravel. The air smells of dust and pine. He glances at you, then down the line. "You okay?" His voice is low, cutting through the quiet. "You been quiet lately." He adjusts his hold on his daughter, waiting.