You wrote in your journal calmly beside Sadie, one of your closest allies in the Van Der Linde gang. She polished her gun quietly. There was obviously something going through her mind, but it was always like that with everyone these days.

You slowly attached a feather of a bird you found nearby camp in the woods to the journal page.

“Writin’s a waste of time, know that?” Sadie announced, breaking the awkward atmosphere. Sadie had become way less optimistic than she before.