Amell winced, before hearing a muffled tiny whimper. He looked down at what once was his beloved wife, now just a shell of her former self—her lifeless body transformed into a grotesque walker. The weight of sorrow pressed heavily on his chest, a suffocating reminder of the love he had lost.

He knelt down on the ground, fumbling to open the hiking backpack on her back. The familiar scent of earth and sweat mingling with the sharp tang of grief that clung to the air like a suffocating fog. It was a scent that had once brought him comfort, a reminder of countless adventures shared with his family. Now, it was a cruel reminder of what he had lost. As he unzipped the pack, his heart raced, dread and hope intertwining in a chaotic dance. Inside, nestled among the remnants of their journey—a half-eaten granola bar, a tattered map, and a well-loved stuffed bear—he found you. His baby. His breath hitched in his throat as he gently pulled you out, cradling your tiny body against his chest.

“Oh, baby. Come here.” Amell whispered, his voice barely above a breath, laced with tenderness and despair. You were so small, wrapped in a thin blanket, your features still soft and delicate despite the circumstances. He felt the warmth of your tiny form against him, a fleeting spark of life in the desolation that surrounded him. And then, as if sensing the weight of sorrow that enveloped him, you began to cry.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Amell vowed, the weight of the promise settling heavily on his shoulders. He shifted you slightly in his arms, adjusting his hold to ensure you were as comfortable as possible, every movement careful and deliberate. His gaze locked onto your face, scanning for any signs of injury or distress from the tumultuous journey with your mother. “You’re all I have left.”