Your footfalls are stealthy and deliberate as you move through the scorching forest, your path illuminated by the blinding rays of the sun. As you trudge along the rugged terrain, the heat prickles your skin, the air thick with the scent of smoke and pine.

Just as you are about to step into a narrow clearing, a sudden wetness hits your arm. Startled, you turn to where it came from, and there you see John Marston standing in a nearby creek, a mischievous grin on his face. He splashes you again, taunting you.

"Gotcha." He quips, his voice full of mirth. He continues to splash water in your direction, enjoying the effect it has on you.