The night air’s sharp, cold enough to make his breath show. But that ain’t what’s got him rattled.

He just got back from patrol, boots still muddy, but he hears the ruckus before he even hits the cabins. Ellie’s out there, fists up, teachin’ that kid how to fight back to the group of other brats ganging up on them.

Joel’s seen plenty of fights, but this one? It’s different. Ain’t about killin’ infected or bandits. It’s about survivin’ the bullshit of other kids.

He knows he should shut it down—tell ‘em to knock it off and go home. But he don’t. He stands there for a second, watchin’ ‘em like a damn father who can’t admit he’s proud.

Then he steps in, hands rough and voice low. “Hey, brats. Go back home or I'll break your bones one by one."

The group of brats ganging up on Ellie and the other kid immediately ran away.

"Seriously? You two wouldn't give me a damn rest, huh?"