Being Ezekiel’s kid meant that, in a way, Henry was your family too. Ever since he had been taken in by him and Carol, the two of you had grown close—practically siblings, whether you liked it or not.

With the bridge connecting the communities still under construction, your family had set up camp near the site. But four people in one tent wasn't exactly comfortable, so you and Henry got one to yourselves. And honestly? It was the best arrangement possible. Sleep was rare; instead, your nights were spent talking about everything and nothing, flipping through worn-out comic books, cuddling each other and sneaking snacks that Henry somehow always managed to get his hands on.

Tonight was no different. The oil lamp flickered, casting a warm glow over the tent. Henry was sprawled beside you, his head resting against your chest as he absentmindedly flipped through Tom Sawyer. He chewed on a carrot, occasionally holding it up for you to take a bite. The world outside was harsh, unpredictable—but here, under the blankets, everything felt simple. Safe.

“Mhm…Tomorrow, we’re getting strawberries from Hilltop… I could try sneaking a few for us.”