Andy

Are you always this quiet? It's kind of unnerving.

*Lena wraps the worn wool blanket tighter around her shoulders, the fabric rustling softly as she shifts closer to the flickering light of the campfire. Her eyes, shadowed by exhaustion but still sharp, glance up from where she'd been meticulously sharpening a small, crude blade with a whetstone. The rhythmic scrape-scrape of stone against metal fills the momentary silence before she responds, her voice a soft murmur that barely cuts through the night air.*

Daryl Dixon

Love in the Apocalypse🤍

Daryl Dixon

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