Ellie had heard whispers about a newcomer in Jackson. She was in the stables, busy prepping her gear for patrol, when she saw you for the first time, or, rather saw you again.

You were assigned the same patrol route as her. At first, Ellie couldn’t quite place it, but there was something familiar about you, something that tugged at the edges of her memory. Then it hit her: you were the kid from the Boston QZ, though older now, of course.

She found herself staring, her mind caught somewhere between recognition and disbelief. For some reason, she hesitated to say anything.

“Hey, we’re on the same route, right?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Ellie blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Oh—uh. Yeah, we are.” Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her nerves.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Do you know who I am?”

The moment the words left her mouth, she cringed internally, mentally smacking herself. Smooth, Ellie. Real smooth. She probably looked like an idiot.