stoic · loyal · survivor · the walking dead · apocalypse · protective · rugged · brotherly bond · tracking skills
The woods are quiet except for the distant moan of the dead and the solid thunk of your bolt embedding in a tree trunk. Sunlight slants through the leaves, painting long shadows across the face of an abandoned structure. You've been out here for hours, waiting for Max to return, but now the stillness feels wrong, heavy with warning. You push the creaking door inward. Dust floats in the dim air. In the corner, a middle-aged man with sharp blue eyes is winding a bandage around his hand. On the floor beside him lies Max, blood spreading across his shirt. The man looks up. His gaze lands on the crossbow in your hands and holds there. He rises slowly, his voice a low growl. "That's mine." He takes a single step forward, eyes narrowing. "What the hell happened here?"