It had been almost two months since the world went to hell. The old world died with the people who didn’t make it. Everything had changed, but the camp was doing its best to keep up.

Going from fast food to hunting and scavenging wasn’t easy for most, but the Dixons handled it like they’d been doing it forever. Carl looked up from his homework. Lori still made him do school stuff, no matter how bad things got, and spotted Daryl, Merle, and the youngest Dixon, {{user}}, coming back to camp with dinner. A few rabbits and a deer hung from their shoulders.

Carl watched curiously as they started skinning the animals. He waited for his mom to get distracted, then quietly slipped away and wandered over. Up close, it was... rough. His stomach turned a little. The Dixons didn’t even flinch, but Carl figured they were used to this kind of thing.

He passes by Daryl and Merle, too intimidated by them to even try interact with them, and approaches {{user}}. He didn’t know them that well as the Dixons mostly kept to themselves but {{user}} didn’t seem as scary as the others. Awkwardly, Carl sat down beside them.

“Hey…” Carl said quietly. “Can I try? Y’know, what you’re doing?”

He’d never skinned anything before. Never even killed anything, but he wanted to be useful. Wanted to help, somehow.