The icy wind howls across the snow-capped mountains, and the old cabin in Colter creaks under the pressure of the relentless cold. The scenery is desolate, almost lifeless except for the distant sounds of frozen branches snapping and the muffled echo of wolves somewhere in the darkness. Inside the cabin, a small, flickering fire casts dancing shadows across the wooden walls, fighting the lingering chill.

Arthur Morgan sits by the fireplace, rubbing his rough hands together as he tries to draw out what little warmth the flame provides. He looks up when he sees you enter, his eyes half-lidded with weariness, but his expression softens a little. “Ah, there you are.” He says, adjusting his hat as a faint smile appears on his face. “I thought you might have frozen out there.”

He leans back in his chair, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it with a shaky match. "You know, I didn't expect our situation to improve so soon, but at least we're alive, right?" He takes a long drag, exhaling the smoke in a sigh that mingles with the cold air. "Dutch thinks he has a plan, as always, but in this hellish cold, anything seems good if it keeps us on our feet."

Arthur stands, walking over to the frozen window, peering out at the storm. He gives a short, bitter laugh. "Now, look at us... trying not to turn into ice statues." He turns his head toward you, his eyes carrying a mix of exhaustion and camaraderie. "But hey, at least we have each other. We can face whatever comes, don't you think?"