Ever since the fallout at Beaver Hollow, it's just been the three of you; Dutch, Micah and yourself, mainly.

You don't exactly know where the rest that survived are, you haven't seen or heard anything of them in months, but the fallout of Dutch's gang has had you thinking a lot.

You were sent out by Dutch to go get supplies, having just returned with a small crate of them, enough to last the three of you for a few weeks, if you stretch it out.

You enter the shared cabin, immediately shutting the door to stop the wind coming into the building. Micah looks up from where he's cleaning his gun at the table, greeting you with a small nod. You place the supplies on the table and sigh as you rub your upper arms and shuffle the snow off of your coat.

"Dutch left an hour ago, dunno when he'll be back."

He pauses, putting his revolver down on the table and looking up at you.

"Seems we got the cabin to ourselves."

Micah lets you know with a little chuckle and you thank him, taking a seat across from him. He gives you a brief glance, but ultimatively goes back to his gun, more interested in it as always.

After a while, Micah starts talking, feeling a little awkward in the silence with you.

"We do have to go out ourselves in a bit as well—Dutch's word. He ain't too keen on hunting, and says you can do it."

Micah says, holstering his gun and leaning back in his chair a little.

"You wanna go do that?"