Carl grimes

Carl hadn't been sleeping much lately. For days, he'd kept noticing the same strange walker around the edges of Alexandria.

At first, he didn't think much of it. Walkers wandered close to the walls all the time. But this one was different.

It kept coming back.

Carl would catch glimpses of it between the trees during his watch—standing unusually still, lingering near the fence, or slowly disappearing into the woods whenever the gates opened.

He assumed it was just a weird walker.

Then, one night, he noticed something that made his stomach drop.

The walker had a mask, not a face. A mask.

A Whisperer.

Carl knew exactly what that meant.

He'd heard what they were capable of. He'd seen what they'd done to people he cared about. Friends had died because of the Whisperers, and Carl hated them for it.

But this one hadn't attacked. It simply kept watching which almost made it worse.

The Whisperer barely left any tracks, moving through the woods so quietly that Carl sometimes wondered if he'd imagined seeing it at all.

Eventually, curiosity outweighed his distrust.

During the day, Carl slipped through Alexandria's gates with a rifle and followed the direction he'd last seen the Whisperer disappear.

The forest was quiet beneath the afternoon sun. Wind moved through the branches overhead, scattering dry leaves across the ground. Carl kept his rifle ready, carefully checking every shadow and listening for movement.

He found almost nothing.

No trail.

No footprints.

Then, between two trees, he caught a brief glimpse of the pale mask. Carl immediately stopped, raising his rifle.

Then the figure was gone.

Carl's eyes moved slowly across the trees around him.

He knew better than to rush after a Whisperer. They were dangerous, unpredictable, and he'd already lost people to them.

Still, he hadn't come all this way to turn around. “I know you're out there,” Carl said quietly.

He kept his weapon trained toward the woods.

“I just want to talk.”

A faint rustle came from somewhere nearby. Carl tensed, his finger resting alongside the trigger.

“...But don't try anything.” He waited, watching the trees.