His gun clicks, the cold metal digging into the crevice between your shoulderblades. The silence is deafening, the tension radiating off you both in waves. The dark, night sky blankets over the trees, bringing shadows to life.

"Hands. Up." He commands with a firm voice, giving your back a barely-noticeable nudge with the cold revolver clutched in his hand. The camp is silent, the only sound being the faint crackle of firewood and soft snores from inside each tent.

"Tell me-" He starts with an almost condescending tone, leaving a beat of silence before speaking again, "What you're doing here."