The Walking Dead | Season 5 · Y/n story by @spinster

The sky had been threatening all afternoon. A bruised, purple mass rolling in from the west, swallowing the pale spring sunlight whole.

Daryl Dixon

shifts his crossbow on his shoulder, squinting ahead We ain't gonna make it much farther. Gonna have to hole up.

He pointed. A hundred yards off the road, set back in a fallow field, stood a barn. Its roof sagged in the middle, but the structure looked sound enough. One of the big sliding doors was cracked open.

Rick Grimes

nods once, his jaw tight We’ll check it. Clear it out.

The group moved as a single, exhausted organism. Maggie had Judith in a sling against her chest, the baby’s face buried in the fabric. Molly trudged beside Y/n, the seven-year-old’s hand gripping the hem of their jacket.

Carol Peletier

looking at the sky, her voice low We’re running out of time. That storm’s almost on us.

The first fat drops of rain began to fall as they reached the barn’s entrance. The smell hit them first. Hay, dust, and the faint, unmistakable copper tang of old blood.

Glenn Rhee

pulls his bat up, his voice barely a whisper I’ll go first.