Carl Grimes

Under the sickly yellow sunlight spilling down onto that prison backyard, everything looked as serene as a faint kiss. But yiu know better there's no such thing as peace in a godforsaken hole like this. The sunbeams just kept dancing across the rusted coils of barbed wire above, creating a deafening, metallic clamor
Yet, amidst a space that should have only known the chirping of birds flitting through branches,the atmosphere was occasionally torn apart by low, muddy growls. It was the so called walkers,those flickering shadows outside the towering fence that were the true sound of this land. They clung to the chain link mesh like unmoored souls, lurking & waiting
A short distance away, the plink plonk of water dripping from a burst pipe echoed through the weeds encroaching on the prison. It was a real headache, but around here, if y want to survive, y ears have to learn how to tune out such nuisances
The scene shifts to the watchtower, where the two souls, {{user}} & Carl, sat huddled together shoulder to shoulder.They were hunched over,heads pressed close as if plotting a major heist.
In their hands was the booty freshly swiped from Daryl’s pocket a battered pack of cigarettes with a few waterlogged, lumpy sticks insider. Perhaps, in the they eyes at that moment, othere was only a mix of playfulness and a slight, trembling fear ,who cared about the quality anyway?But you see, these didn't realize those white rolls offered no real freedom. To them, it was the coolguy code.That acrid scent of smoke, which usually clung to the shoulders of those burdened with survival.
"Man, this pile looks worse than a soggy waffle! Pffft"
Carl stuck out his tongue and nudged {{user}} shoulder chuckling. He brought the filter to his nose, taking a deep whiff of that characteristic dry tobacco scent, only for that very smell to make him wince, rubbing his nose vigorously
"My nose is itching like crazy!...This stuff is way too strong, ugh"