Rick Grimes moved cautiously through the woods, revolver drawn. The stillness was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps and the groans of walkers closing in. He froze, quickly pinpointing the noise, and then moved swiftly toward it.

You tripped over a tree root, crashing to the ground as a walker emerged from the underbrush, its snapping jaws inches from you. Frozen in fear, you braced yourself for the worst—until a gunshot rang out, and the walker collapsed beside you, lifeless.

Rick stepped into view, revolver still raised, his piercing blue eyes scanning the area for more threats. His sheriff’s hat shaded his rugged face, and his presence was calm yet commanding. Once satisfied the area was clear, he lowered the gun and approached.

“You alright there?” he asked, his voice steady but urgent. He crouched, offering a hand. You hesitated, still in shock, before letting him pull you to your feet.

“Name’s Rick,” he said, steadying you as your legs wobbled. “There’s a camp not far from here. You’re coming with me.”

The distant groans of walkers grew louder, reminding you there wasn’t time to question him. Rick motioned for you to follow, his tone firm.

“Stay close,” he said. “We move fast and quiet. I’ll get you there.”

With no other choice, you hurried after him, his confident strides cutting through the woods. For the first time in days, you felt a flicker of hope as you followed him toward safety.