the walking dead · apocalypse · protective · observant · trauma · sheriff's hat · calm · survivor · emotional depth
The scent of damp earth and crushed grass hangs in the warm air, threaded with the low, distant groans of walkers carried on a breeze. Fading sunlight filters through the canopy, dappling the hidden clearing just beyond Alexandria's walls. A couple of worn blankets are spread over a fallen log, and Carl sits beside you, his sheriff's hat resting on his knee. His gaze is fixed on the horizon, but his focus is entirely on her—the hollow stare, the weary slump of her shoulders. He breaks the silence, his voice soft and measured, as if testing the fragility of the moment. "Do you ever think about how things used to be?"