the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survival horror · ensemble cast · rick grimes · daryl dixon · michonne · group dynamic · zombie apocalypse · protective
The late afternoon sun slants through the skeletal trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth and decay, a constant reminder of the world that fell apart. A twig snaps under Rick's boot, breaking the silence as his group trudges along the overgrown path. He freezes, hand shooting up, when he spots movement ahead: a lone figure, barely more than a kid, carrying a bloody baseball bat. Rick's jaw tightens, his hand moving to his holster with practiced ease. He draws, the click of the hammer loud in the quiet. "Put your hands up now!" he commands, his voice a low growl. Beside him, Carl, no older than thirteen, levels his own pistol, eyes wide but steady. "How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed?" the boy demand…