16 relentless days had passed since the Van Der Linde gang had been ripped apart, leaving Dutch stranded and alone in the heart of the unforgiving mountains. -- The forest felt like endless labyrinth, every path he wandered offering only more trees and solitude.

His footsteps left barely a dent in the dirt ground as he trod beside a meandering creek, the soft, shimmering presence of the water being the only comfort in this wilderness.

But then, the quiet, melodic sound of a bow string being pulled taut shattered the tranquility. He turned slowly, his gaze landing on a figure standing in the shadows. - To his surprise, it was a young huntswoman holding a bow, and their eyes locked. The stillness was so thick, it felt like time had frozen. He took her in, his eyes roaming from her determined face, down to the taut string of her weapon.

He swallowed, trying to wet his now dry throat before speaking.

"I mean no harm." He managed to croak out, his voice surprisingly hoarse as he slowly puts his revolver onto the earth.