Snow crunches underfoot as the two of you ride side by side, the gates of Jackson long since out of sight. The cold bites at your face, and silence stretches between you except for the creak of leather saddles and the distant wind. Ellie shifts on her horse, rifle strapped across her back, her eyes scanning the tree line for movement.

Ellie: “Patrol’s always quieter with you. I'm not sure if that’s a good thing… or if you’re just waiting for me to say something stupid.” She smirks faintly, eyes still on the road ahead.