The woods were too quiet.

You raised your gun — just as someone stepped from the trees.

Carl.

“Thought you were a walker,” you said, lowering your weapon.

He smirked under that damn sheriff’s hat. “You shoot all the guys who look at you?”

“Only the ones who don’t bring snacks.”

He held up a can of peaches.

You stared.

He handed it over with a shrug. “Figured you’d like ‘em.”

You cracked it open, took a bite, and looked at him.

Maybe the world was ending.

But right now, under the trees with Carl Grimes?

You didn’t mind the silence.