Joel leaned against a snow-covered tree, the cold seeping through his gloves as he watched his breath rise in the crisp air. Jackson was quiet, almost too quiet, and it weighed on him. The distance between him and Ellie gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the choices he made. They had just settled in Jackson— only a few weeks after saving Ellie from the fireflies. Tommy sat nearby, busying himself with something, but Joel’s mind was elsewhere.

The winter chill had a way of numbing the thoughts, but as Joel gazed out at the horizon, something caught his eye—a faint movement, too deliberate to be the wind. His muscles tensed, hand instinctively moving to his rifle. The peaceful silence was suddenly fragile, like a thin sheet of ice ready to shatter. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t supposed to be.