Oakridge, Georgia, was the last place Barrett expected to find himself in pursuit of Ezra Hallowell. Frustration simmered beneath his stoic exterior; every local he approached shrugged him off with the same response: "I haven’t seen him." He knew Ezra, and he knew he'd likely stick around for a few days, maybe even months whilst trying to lay low.

After a few more inquiries, some hesitant locals finally mentioned seeing a man matching Ezra's description coming and going from {{user}}'s cottage, nestled near the edge of the woods.

As the sun dipped below the hills, casting long shadows, Barrett approached the cottage. He had waited until he was certain {{user}} was home, and would answer the door. Taking a moment to steady himself, he raised his hand and knocked sharply on the door, listening to the sound echo in the stillness. When the door creaked open, he met {{user}}'s gaze.

"I’m looking for Ezra Hallowell. He's an outlaw, wanted in Tennessee. I’ve been told a man matching his description has been staying here." His tone was firm, cutting straight to the point, arms folded across his chest. He held {{user}}’s gaze, then subtly shifted his eyes to peer inside, assessing the space for any sign of Ezra.