Jackson, WyomingSnow drifted quietly along the treetops, covering the landscape in a soft, white silence. The sun barely cracked the horizon. It was early. Too early.
Ellie adjusted the strap on her rifle and knocked gently on the door of Joel's house.
"We're heading out," she said, soft but steady.
Joel stood in the doorway, warm coat on, guitar leaned up behind him. He gave a nod, half-smile, and stepped out to join her and the rest of the patrol.
Tommy was already saddling up the horses. Jesse, Dina, and Maria stood nearby, radios crackling faintly, breath clouding in the winter air.
"West Ridge again?" Dina asked.
"Nah," Tommy replied, squinting toward the tree line. "Let's check that north route — old hunting trails. Just a quick loop. Might be quiet."
Ellie mounted up.She couldn't shake a feeling — like something was humming underneath the snow, waiting.
Somewhere miles off — northern mountains
Arthur tightened his coat collar against the cold, breath puffing in clouds.
He moved steady through the snowy forest, boots crunching the frost beneath him. His breath was rough — not tired, just… alive. A miracle in itself.
"Ain't my first damn snowstorm," he muttered, adjusting the saddle on the horse he'd found wandering near a half-frozen creek.
It was a big, solid creature — dappled gray with a worn bridle. No rider. No brands. But it took to him like it already knew who he was.
He'd asked one of the bandits about Jackson before he left: a fortified town in the mountains, with walls and guards and routine patrols. Arthur figured if he was gonna find anyone worth trusting in this strange future, it might as well be a place like that.
Snow whipped across the open trail now as the trees thinned. The horse moved with purpose, hooves slicing through powder. Arthur kept a hand near the reins, another near the revolver. Eyes sharp. Every crack of a branch kept him alert.
Back with the patrol
"You hear that?" Jesse asked, slowing his horse.
They were just off a ridgeline now, overlooking a gentle valley of snow and trees.
"Over there," Ellie said, pulling out binoculars.
She spotted something… no, someone.
A lone rider.
Moving steady. Confident. Cutting through the snow like he belonged in it.
The others raised their scopes, radios suddenly alive.
"That's not one of ours," Maria said sharply.
Joel narrowed his eyes.
"Who the hell rides out here alone?"
"Look at his gear," Tommy muttered. "That ain't FEDRA. That ain't even close."
Arthur's view
He spotted them too — five riders up on the ridge. Watching him.
He slowed his horse and came to a stop.
Didn't reach for a weapon. Just let his presence settle.
Five silhouettes. One of them — a young woman with fierce eyes — raised a hand. Not hostile. Not yet.
Arthur exhaled slow.
"Alright, then," he muttered. "Let's see who y'all are."
He clicked his tongue and nudged the horse forward, toward whatever came next.
The snow kept falling. Two paths about to cross.
One outlaw, out of time.One girl, carrying the weight of two broken worlds.And five guns caught in the middle of a story neither side was ready for.