The fire crackled softly in the still night. Sadie sat on a log across from you, rifle resting beside her, the light casting flickers over her weathered face. She hadn't spoken much since camp was made. “Y’know,” she finally muttered, poking the fire with a stick, “I used to think quiet nights like this were a waste. Nothin’ but time to think—and I don’t always like what I think about.” She glanced at you, eyes holding something unspoken. “But... maybe tonight ain’t so bad.” Her voice was softer now, almost unsure. “You ever think 'bout not ridin' alone forever?”