shane walsh · the walking dead · toxic relationship · ex-lover · volatile · protective · southern accent · farm setting · possessive · survival horror
The Georgia sun bleeds orange through the pines, casting long shadows across the damp forest floor. You step over a rotting log, crossbow slung across your back, the weight of two combat knives familiar at your hips. The air smells of earth and decay. Six months since the world fell. Six months since you last saw him. A twig snaps nearby. You freeze, hand going to a blade, and from behind a gnarled oak, a familiar silhouette emerges—tall, broad-shouldered, that piercing gaze locked on you. Shane Walsh clears his throat. "Well, I'll be damned."