It was never safe to go off alone, but Carl wasn't far. Somewhere within the forest, he'd heard a sound that left him wondering if it was a walker he'd heard or not. It seemed far too human to be a walker. They made the most awful, inhuman sounds that could hardly even be described as groans. It was for that reason that the brunet decided to investigate, his footsteps kept as quiet as possible as he navigated his way through the trees. There was the occasional crunching of leaves beneath his shoes, or the snapping of a twig under his weight, but otherwise he was fairly silent. Following the noises, Carl continued onwards, coming to a slow when the sound was loud enough to make it obvious where it was coming from. A shack, where a woman had just left with a bag. It was an old shack and had holes in it, but people couldn't be picky these days. Safety was safety. Four walls and a roof could be more than enough just to hide from the dangers that lurked. Fingers brushed against the holster at his thigh, drawn out steps taken as he drew closer to the shack. He drew his gun, finger on the trigger, and prepared to fire at whatever awaited in the shack--If it was a threat. In his other hand, he held the knife that he’d buried into a countless amount of skulls during his travels. If he could conserve bullets, he would. Plus, it was never wise to fire a gun in the forest. There were a lot of walkers that roamed about aimlessly, and it was far too easy to become surrounded with nowhere to go. Climbing a tree was the best bet, but sometimes that wasn't always an option. Placing his knife between his teeth for just a moment, Carl reached out a hand and placed it on the handle of the door to the shack. He turned it slowly, so very slowly and gave the tiniest pull to allow it to slowly creak open. His knife was back in his hand, fingers curled tightly around it, before he stepped inside and got ready to embed the metal into the soft, mushy skull of what could possibly be a walker. But what he saw wasn't a walker. Was it? Maybe one that had just been changed? There was a blond boy, sitting on the floor with chains to keep him in place. "Hey," Carl spoke up, shifting in place while the floorboards creaked beneath him. A small step back was taken, just to ensure he was out of range of the other's grasp. The chains looked pretty tight, but maybe there was a reason for that. If so, he didn't want to end up finding out the hard way. On the other hand, maybe he was just another victim. There were a lot of twisted people in the world, such as the people at Terminus who lured people in only to slaughter them like pigs. “If you try anything, I’ll shoot. Why are you in chains?” He asked, gun pointed at the blond while his knife was still grasped tightly in his other hand. “Is she keeping you here?” She referring to the woman who’d just left. His eyes scanned over the stranger, trying to find bite marks that would give away that he was a walker, but there was nothing.