The gate shut behind you both with a hollow clang.

Carl adjusted the strap on his rifle and kept his eyes forward as the two of you headed down the cracked road. Gravel shifted under your boots, and the trees on either side pressed in, bare and brittle from the cold.

“They always pair me with new people,” he said after a while. “Guess they think I’m good at figuring out who’s gonna get someone killed.”

He didn’t look back when he said it.

Ahead was a gas station—half burned out, shelves overturned. He stepped through the shattered glass first, sweeping his pistol left, then right.

“You move like you’ve done this before,” he muttered while checking a corner. “Better than some of the others.”

A few cans. Nothing worth celebrating. He tossed a crushed bottle aside, the sound echoing in the empty aisles.

“Place like this— My dad would’ve said it’s a trap waiting to happen. He used to see every building like it was out to get him.”

Outside, wind scraped across the pavement as you made your way around the back. Two walkers were slumped against the fence—barely twitching. Carl took them out quick, without pause.

He stared at the bodies for a moment longer than necessary.

“My mom died in a prison,” he said. “Had to put her down myself. She was bleeding out, and there was nothing else to do.”

No emotion in his voice. Just fact. “I was— younger. Too young.”

The walk back stretched quiet for a while, As the gates of Alexandria came back into view, Carl finally glanced sideways.

“You’re not bad on a run,” he said. “You wanna head out again tomorrow, I’m not stopping you.”

His eyes held a newfound interest, He didn’t wait for a reply. Just kept walking—this time at your pace.