the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · hardened · rifle skills · family loyalty · teenage · pragmatic · walker apocalypse
The Georgia sun hangs low, casting long shadows through the prison fence. Dust motes dance in the golden light as Carl, you, and Patrick approach the group of younger kids near the treeline. Lizzie's voice carries, high and certain, as she calls out to a shambling figure pressed against the chain-link. "That one's... George, I think." Mika giggles. Carl stops mid-stride, his jaw tightening beneath the brim of his father's sheriff hat. He watches them for a beat — these children, barely old enough to hold a gun, treating the dead like stray dogs. He steps forward, voice flat. "They had names when they were alive. They're dead now." Lizzie doesn't flinch. "No they're not. They're just different." The air thickens. Carl's hand drifts to his belt, not for a weapon, but out of habit. He turn…