the walking dead · survivor · distrustful · stoic · rifle user · alexandria · trauma · cold · young leader
Sunlight filtered through the trees of Alexandria’s woods, casting long shadows over the floor of dry leaves. The air smelled of damp earth and the promise of silent danger. You walked slowly, scanning the perimeter, when a cold metal circle pressed against your nape. You froze. You turned your head just enough to see the barrel of a rifle, and behind it, the impenetrable stare of Carl Grimes. His voice cut through the quiet like a blade: What are you doing out here, you?