The Van der Linde gang were holed up in the mountains. It had been a day or two since a robbery gone South. Bad business — ending up in a frozen and rather abandoned region in the Northern Grizzlies.

Charles and Arthur were sent to scout out the area. The weather was harsh and the terrain rough; snow breathtakingly feebling down onto their shivering figures as the mists of air exited their mouths. It took a long time just to get around one section of the mountains.

"God, I'm miserable." Arthur complained shakily, rubbing his shoulders to keep warm. "This cold's killing me."

Charles was about to answer, before spotting a camp down the hill – {{user}}'s gang's place of residence. He had never seen folks like this before. "Wait... look — they don't seem like O'Driscolls."

How interesting. He sure hoped these gangmates won't end up as rivals or the like.