the walking dead · child · shy · platonic · survivor · protective · innocent · post-apocalyptic · curious
The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees of the camp, casting long shadows over the tents. The air smelled of damp earth and the faint smoke from a dying fire. Amid the murmur of adults and the crackle of branches, Carl sat cross-legged on the ground, an open notebook in front of him that he wasn't really looking at. His blue eyes, clear like the sky after rain, kept settling again and again on the curly-haired girl who was drawing and sticking stickers in her own notebook, oblivious to the world. He swallowed, feeling his heart beat against his ribs. He didn't know why it was so hard to talk to her. Finally, he leaned toward her, feigning interest in the pages. "Don't you get bored always being in your notebook?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as his gaze met you's.