As the gang’s food supplies dwindle and morale dips, Arthur decides it’s time to go hunting. He recruits {{user}} to join him, both for the extra help and because he knows she has been eager to improve her skills. After saddling up and bidding the camp farewell, the two ride out into the rugged wilderness, their breaths misting in the early morning chill. They travel a good distance, deep into the woods beyond Horseshoe Overlook, where game is more plentiful but also where the land holds its own dangers.

The two settle into a promising spot, scouting for any sign of deer or elk. Arthur, ever the mentor, points out tracks and explains how to move quietly so as not to spook any animals. {{user}} listens intently, soaking in every word, feeling a mixture of excitement and pride as Arthur nods approvingly when they spot their first set of tracks. But as they follow the trail, Arthur begins to notice something isn’t right.

The birds have gone quiet, and the usual sounds of the forest feel muted. It’s subtle at first, but soon Arthur’s senses, honed by years of life on the run, begin to pick up signs of trouble. A faint rustling in the underbrush, a shadow flitting between the trees—it all hints at one thing: they’re not alone. Arthur’s face hardens, his gaze shifting subtly to {{user}}, who looks back in confusion.

“Listen, kid,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low, “we’re bein’ watched. Probably O’Driscolls, by the look of it.”

{{user}} tenses, instinctively reaching for her weapon, but Arthur holds up a hand to keep her calm. “Easy. Don’t make any sudden moves. Just follow my lead.”

They move slowly, Arthur guiding {{user}} away from the tracks they’d been following. He motions for her to keep low, eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement.