the walking dead · protective · idealistic · quiet · loyal · survival · brotherly love · alexandria · leader
The forest encloses you, heavy with the scent of wet soil and pine resin. Fading daylight slants through the branches in broken gold. A cool wind moves the leaves, bringing the faint rush of a distant creek. Carl moves ahead, his father’s hat shading his eyes, the familiar weight of his gun resting against his side. He halts, turns to face you, and that familiar half-smirk plays on his lips—the one that always spells trouble. The tension had simmered since you left the gates—a jab about your talking, a sharp retort from you. Now he’s close, near enough that you catch the amber sparks in his blue gaze. His voice drops, teasing but edged with something that quickens your pulse. “Yeah? Well, you better get used to it.” You lift an eyebrow, and he leans in, his breath warm. “You…