When morning breaks, Alexandria is the first to wake. She opens her eyes to find the cabin bathed in a soft, grey light. She can feel the warmth of the fireplace radiating against her skin, and she knows that she has to get it going again before it goes out. She gently disentangles herself from Sadie and the warm pile of furs and makes her way to the fireplace. Her movements are stiff from the cold and the exertion of the previous day, but she works quickly and efficiently. She adds a few more logs to the dwindling embers, coaxing them into a fiery blaze. The crackling of the firewood is the only sound in the otherwise silent cabin, a comforting rhythm that grounds her. The warmth spreads slowly, chasing away the chill that clung to her like a second skin. With a weary sigh, Alexandria moves to a small wooden desk by the window. The glass is iced over, but she can make out the faint outlines of the world outside- a world that had been turned white with grief and loss, but a sense of something else. She pulls out her journal from her bag that had been put aside produces a pen and begins to write. Her hand shakes at first, the words coming out in a jerky scrawl. But as the ink flows onto the page, so do her thoughts.

December 1898

I don't even know where to begin. It's been hell for the last couple of days, and honestly, I feel like I've lived an entire lifetime in the span of just a few days. The storm... the gang... and Jake. I still can't process it all.

Jake. God, I can't even bring myself to write it. He was more than a friend. He was the one who kept us grounded, who always saw the silver lining when things got too dark. I never thought I'd have to write that he's gone. It feels like something out of a bad dream, but it's not. He's gone.

And then there's the gang. I didn't know what to expect when I found them again, after all these years. They thought I was dead. I should've known that, but hearing it from their mouths, seeing the shock on their faces... I wasn't sure how to feel. They didn't even recognize me at first. I guess that's what happens when you're gone so long. I felt like a ghost like I was a shadow of the person they once knew. But in the end, they welcomed me back, despite the years. The bond is still there, even if I don't feel like I belong anymore.

They told me that everyone assumed I was gone. Dead. They saw a body that day after the gunfight and assumed it was mine. The body was too far gone and bloody. Never in a million years did I think my death would be a rumor. They thought I was a casualty of the gunfight, that the last time they saw me was the last time anyone would. It made sense in a way.

But now? Now I'm here. I'm alive. I'm still breathing, still fighting to make it through the storm that's threatening to rip us apart.

The storm... it came out of nowhere. It's relentless, ferocious. Everything's been covered in a thick layer of ice and snow, the wind's tearing at the world around us. Supplies are running low. We've got barely enough to last us through the next few days. Maybe even less. There's no food, no medicine, and the cold is seeping into every crevice.

I'm used to surviving. I always have been. But this... this is different. I can feel the weight of it all pressing down on me, the fear creeping in. I can hear the sounds of people trying to stay warm, trying to hold on, but it's all getting harder. I hate that feeling, the helplessness that comes with knowing you can't protect everyone. You can't save them all.

But my instincts are still sharp. They always will be. I can feel it, deep in my bones—I have to hunt. I need to find food, something to keep us going. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. I've survived the worst this world has thrown at me, and I'll keep fighting to keep my family alive. My gang.

I'll get through this. We'll get through this. But I can't stop thinking about Jake. He should've been here with us. He should've been here to see it all. And now he never will. The thought of losing him forever... I can't even comprehend it. I wish he was here. I wish I could hear his laugh again.

I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring. Hell, I don't even know what the next hour will look like. But I'll keep pushing. I'll keep moving forward for him, for the gang, for myself.

I won't let this storm take me down.

Once she was done writing, she tucked the journal into her bag and turned to the food supplies Jake had so thoughtfully packed for her before she had gone hunting. There are a few cans of food and a small thing of coffee beans, wrapped in a cloth to keep them from freezing. The sight of the supplies makes her stomach growl, a stark reminder of how long it's been since she had eaten. With trembling hands, she opens one of the cans, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the cabin. The smell of stewed meat fills the air, making her mouth water. But she doesn't let herself indulge just yet. Instead, she thinks of the others in the camp, likely huddled in their cabins, waiting for any sign of a warm meal. The thought of their hunger gives her a newfound sense of purpose, and she sets to work. Using a small pot, she heats the contents of the can over the fire, the smell growing more tantalizing with each passing minute. As the food warms, Susan enters the cabin, her eyes immediately drawn to the bustling activity by the fire.

"Alexandria," she says, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and admiration. "You're already cooking."

Alexandria nods, not taking her eyes off the pot.

"Yes, Susan," Alexandria says, "We need to eat, and I don't want anyone to go hungry."

Susan looks at her with a mix of surprise and admiration.

"You've always had a big heart, Alexandria," she says. "But you need to eat too."

Alexandria nods, acknowledging Susan's concerns.

"I will," she promises. "But first, I want to make sure everyone else is fed first. Strength comes from a full stomach."

Susan's gaze softens.

"Oh, Alexandria," she says, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "Always looking out for everyone else. I don't know how you became an outlaw like us with a heart like yours."

With that, she turns and heads out into the storm, her steps swift despite the heavy snow. Alexandria hears the door slam shut behind her and she focuses on the task at hand. The smell of the stew fills the cabin again, and she can almost feel the warmth of the food spreading through her chilled body. She stirs the pot, watching the chunks of meat and vegetables dance in the bubbling broth. Her thoughts drift to Jake, his gruff kindness, and his fierce love for Sadie. She feels a pang of guilt for not being there to protect him. Her eyes fall on the rifle propped against the wall, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurk outside. The O'Driscoll boys had left them with nothing but pain and destruction. Her resolve hardens. They would not get away with this. Sadie wakes and slowly sits up in the bed. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She was still mourning the loss of her husband. Susan had also returned with the rest of the group. They all climbed into the cabin. The heat brings color back to each of their faces. Alexandria greeted them all with a soft smile.

"I figured we could all use some hot food," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions within her. "I know it's not much, but it's something for right now."

The group nodded in appreciation, their eyes lighting up at the prospect of a warm meal. Hosea approached the pot, a solemn look on his face.

"Thank you, Alexandria," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "You've always had a way of bringing light to the darkest of moments."

Alexandria handed out the steaming bowls of stew to each person, watching as they took their first bites with a sense of accomplishment. The warmth of the food seemed to have spread not just through their bodies but through the very air in the cabin, dissipating the tension that had settled like a shroud over the room. After everyone had eaten their fill, she approached Hosea, her expression determined.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly. "I'll help with whatever you need. Hunting, raiding, anything."

Hosea's gaze searched hers, the weight of her words settling between them.

"You're always been a fighter, Alexandria," he said finally, a hint of pride in his voice. "But I'm not sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

Alexandria's jaw set firmly.

"I know," she said. "But I can't sit by and do nothing. Not after everything that has happened."

Hosea sighs, stroking his chin. He knew that look was the same one she had worn the day she had come to him for help all those years ago. He had recognized the fiery and determination in her eyes even then, and It had only grown stronger.

"Alright," he finally relented. "But we're going to do this my way."

Alexandria nodded, her eyes shining with relief and gratitude.

"Whatever you need," she said. "I just want to make sure we can keep this camp safe and get justice for Jake."

Before they could continue, the cabin door creaked open and a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped in through the snow, Arthur Morgan, one of the most feared members of the Van Der Linde gang, walked in, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Alexandria. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the man she had once known. He was still as cold and brooding as ever, his eyes a stormy grey-blue that could freeze a person to their core. But as their gazes met, she a saw flicker of something else-a hint of the playfulness he had once shared with her. The sight of him brought a rush of memories, the good and the bad, all fighting for space in her crowded mind. Arthur took off his hat, his hair matted with snow, and stomped the snow from his boots. For a moment, she saw a flash of surprise, followed by something that might have been a concern.

"Alexandria Clarke," he said, voice low and gruff. "You're a long way from home. Thought you were dead..."

The room grew tense as the gang members looked at her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion. She had known Arthur from her time with the gang before she was kidnapped and presumed dead. His presence brought back memories of the camaraderie and the chaos, of the stolen moments of laughter in the face of danger. But she had also seen the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. Alexandria took a deep breath, then a playful smirk curled on her lips.

"I guess I'm just too stubborn to stay down," she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "Not a bastard alive could kill me yet."

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The cabin erupted into laughter, the tension dissipating. The gang members looked at her with newfound respect. Even Arthur cracked a smile, revealing a glimpse of the man she had once known.

"Looks like you've still got your fire, Clarke," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

But the mood quickly sobered as Abigail stepped towards him, her eyes wide with worry.

"Is he back yet?" she asks.

Hosea's gaze darkened.

"John Marston," she clarified, seeing the confusion on Alexandria's face. "He's been missing for two days."

Alexandria's stomach plummeted. John was her close friend when she was younger. Sure he had his moments but that's what she liked about him, a steadfast member who had always had their backs.

"Missing?" Alexandria repeated.

Abigail's eyes searched hers, filled with a silent plea.

"Yes," she said, her voice tight with worry. "Two days now. We can't just sit here and do nothing."

Alexandria's gaze darted to Arthur, whose expression remained impassive. He knew John Marston's value to the camp, to the gang, and to Abigail. He knew the risks that came with sending anyone out in such weather. But he also knew that leaving one of their own out there was not an option.

"I'll go," she said, her voice firm.

The room fell silent, all eyes on her. She knew what they were thinking: she was a liability, a woman with no gang affiliations anymore, and certainly not in a condition to go out in such a storm. But she also knew that she was one of the best trackers they had that wasn't injured.

"I know the land," she added, her voice softer this time. "And I know John."

Arthur's gaze remained unchanged, his jaw tightening.

"The storm's too fierce," he said. "We can't risk losing anyone else."

"Let her take a look. Javier you go with her and take a look for John," Hosea pips up.

Javier nods.

"I will," he said firmly, his eyes traveling to Arthur. "I know if the roles were reversed he'd come look for me."

Arthur's jaw clenched as he took the rifle Javier handed out to him. He knew the risks involved in such a venture. The snowstorm had not relented, and the mountain was treacherous even for the most experienced of men. But the look in Alexandria's eyes was one of determination, and he knew he couldn't deny her this.

"Fine," he groused. "But we're not going far. And we're not staying long."

Alexandria nodded, her eyes meeting Arthur's. She knew he was right—the storm was dangerous, and they couldn't risk losing any more people. But the thought of John out there, alone and in trouble, was unbearable. She pulled on her coat and grabbed her hunting rifle, feeling the weight of the fireplace's warmth leave her as she stepped out into the cold. The wind howled like a pack of wolves, biting at her skin and whipping the snow into a frenzy around her. She quickly moved along the snow-covered paths to the stables. She found Butternut and quickly saddled her. Javier and Arthur doing the same. They rode out into the storm, the horses' breaths puffing out in clouds of steam in the freezing air. The wind cut through their clothes like knives, and the snow stung their faces, but they pushed on, driven by the need to find their friend. Javier leads the way as he announces that the last he heard John was riding up the river. The tracks were faint, almost invisible to the untrained eye, but Alexandria followed them with a grim determination. She could barely hear the men's conversation. The storm had picked up, the snow coming down in thick sheets that made it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Butternut's hooves sank into the snow with each step, and she could feel the horse's labored breathing beneath her. They moved at a brisk pace, their eyes peeled for any sign of John or his horse. After another hour Javier speaks up his voice carried in the cold breeze.

"Hey, I see some smoke. Come on, Let's take a look."

"Let's hope it ain't more of the O'Driscoll boys," Arthur replied, loudly over the wind.

They approached the camp with caution, the sound of their hooves muffled by the thick snow. Butternut snorted, her eyes pricked forward in alertness. As they drew closer, Alexandria's heart sank. The camp was abandoned, the fire barely smoldering, the snow around it trampled.

"Well... It looks like someone left..." Javier said, his eyes scanning the area.

"Recently," Alexandria added, noticing the freshness of the tracks.

They led away from the camp, heading deeper into the mountain by following the river. The tracks were faint but clear enough to follow, and she knew they belonged to John's horse. They pushed on, the storm showing no signs of letting up. The wind howled around them, whipping the snow into a blinding maelstrom that threatened to obscure their path. Butternut's hooves sank deeper into the drifts, and Alexandria could feel the animal's exhaustion. Yet she urged her on, driven by the fear that every second counted. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the crest of the mountain. The storm raged on behind them, but here the wind had cleared a small space, offering a brief reprieve from the onslaught. It was here that they found John's horse, lifeless and frozen in the snow. Javier's expression grew grim as he dismounted, his eyes scanning the desolate landscape for any sign of John. Alexandria felt a knot of dread in her stomach. If they didn't find him soon, he might not survive the night. She looked to Arthur for guidance, but he was lost in his thoughts, his eyes scanning the horizon with fierce intensity. Javier took a deep breath and cocked his revolver. The sound was loud in the stillness, and Butternut nervously danced beneath her. He aimed into the air and fired a single shot, the reports echoing off the mountainsides. The horses' ears pricked up, and they all held their breath, listening for any response. For a moment, there was the only sound of the wind howling through the pines. Then, faintly, in the distance, they heard it - three shouts, a clear signal of distress. The relief was palpable in the air, and Alexandria felt a surge of adrenaline.

"That's John," she said, her voice tight with hope.

They dismounted, leaving their horses to roam a little. The ground was treacherous, the snow deep and untouched. They moved ahead, their boots crunching in the crusty snow. The edge of the mountain was a treacherous path, but they had no choice. The horses whinnied in protest as they left them behind, but the humans pushed on, driven by the urgent need to find their friend. The wind howled around them, tugging at their clothes, and stinging their skin. Alexandria pulled the neck of her fur collar tighter around her face, the cold biting at any exposed skin. She could feel the icy air in her lungs with every breath she took. But the thought of John out there, in the same cold, kept her moving forward. They continued to climb up the side of the mountain, the incline steep and treacherous. The snow had turned into a thick, heavy crust that made each step a battle. Several times, she slipped, but Arthur was always there, his strong hand reaching out to steady her, his eyes never leaving hers. Javier was ahead of his own, the path marked by the occasional toss of his head, his eyes scanning the landscape. When they reached the top, the wind hit them like a physical force, sending them stumbling. They leaned into it, taking cover between the two mountain walls. The world had narrowed to just this space, the rest lost in the swirling snow. Javier reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a bottle. He took a swig of the bottle before turning to Arthur.

"Whiskey," he offered, holding it out to Arthur.

Arthur took the bottle with a nod. He took a deep swig, the fiery liquid burning a path down his throat and warming him from the inside out. He handed it to Alexandria, who took a smaller sip, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. The burn was a welcome sensation, a reminder that she was still alive. John's voice cut through the wind again, louder this time. They could almost make out the words.

"Hold on, John!" Javier bellowed back, his voice carrying over the storm. "We're coming for you!"

They stumbled through the snow, their eyes scanning the ground for any sign of their friend. The wind had picked up, blowing snow around them, making it almost impossible to see. But then, it was weak but it was there. Alexandria's heart leaped as she heard John's voice, barely a whisper over the wind.

"John!" she shouts, her voice hoarse with fear and hope.

They moved in the direction of the sound, their movements becoming more frantic as they realized the danger he was in. And there he was, huddled on the edge of the cliff, his clothes tattered and stained with blood. His eyes were wide with shock, and his skin was pale from the cold. He looked up as they approached, his gaze flickered between Arthur and Javier before finally landing on Alexandria.

"Am I dead?" he croaked, his voice barely audible.

Alexandria's heart broke at the sight of her friend. She rushed to him, dropping to her knees in the snow.

"No, John," she said, her voice shaking with relief. "You're alive. We're here."

John managed a weak smile, his teeth chattering.

"Thought I was a goner," he murmured.

His eyes fell on the necklace around her neck, the silver glinting in the weak light.

"Lil Wildfire," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry."

Alexandria's heart clenched at the sound of her nickname.

"Don't you dare," she said fiercely. "We're going to get you back to camp, and you're going to be okay."

Arthur moved swiftly, his eyes never leaving John's as he approached. He knelt beside her, his strong hands reaching out to help boost their friend up. John's legs trembled as he tried to stand, his strength almost depleted. But with a grunt, Arthur had him standing, leaning heavily against his shoulder. Javier was already waiting, for them. He reached down and grasped John's arms, pulling him up and over the edge of the cliff with surprising gentleness. John's body was limp, his eyes closing with relief as he was lifted away from the cold embrace of the ground and over Arthur's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"We have to get back to the horses," Alexandria said through chattering teeth. "They're not too far."

Javier nodded, his eyes scanning the landscape.

"This way," he said, pointing to a path that wound through the mountain walls.

It was a route they hadn't taken before, but it looked more sheltered from the storm.

They made their way back carefully, the wind still howling around them, but the walls of the mountain provided some reprieve. Arthur's arms were wrapped tightly around John, holding him close to his body to share warmth. Each step was a battle against the elements, but they pushed forward, their hearts beating in time with a desperate need to get their friend to safety. As they reached the spot where they had left the horses, Alexandria felt a surge of relief. Butternut and the others were still there, their heads drooping with exhaustion. She could see the worry etched on their faces, their eyes wide and scared.

"Thank god," she murmured under her breath.

Without wasting any time, Javier swung up onto his horse. Javier looked at Arthur as he settled John onto the horse behind him. John's eyes fluttered open briefly, his gaze locking onto Alexandria.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again.

Alexandria's heart clenched.

"You don't need to be," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill over. "You just focus on staying warm."

Alexandria turned and mounted her horse. She took her place behind Arthur, her eyes never leaving John's ascent. Once everyone was settled, they began the treacherous descent. The horses slid and skidded on the icy ground, their breaths coming in ragged clouds. Suddenly, from the swirling snow, three shadows emerged. Wolves. Their eyes gleamed with hunger, their fur mottled with the shifting white and grey of the storm. Alexandria's hand went to her rifle, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew their desperation, knew that in these conditions, the animals would not back down. Arthur must have sensed her fear because his voice was firm and steady.

"Get ready," he said, his eyes never leaving the predators.

Javier had already drawn his revolver, his body tense. The wolves approached, their eyes fixed on the weakest member of the group. Alexandria's hand tightened on the rifle, her heart racing as she aimed. Arthur fired first, a precise shot that took down the lead wolf. The other two paused, snarling, their eyes darting between the humans and their fallen packmate.

"Ride!" Arthur shouted, and the group spurred their horses into a gallop.

The wolves pursued them, their howls piercing the storm's cacophony. Alexandria's breath came in ragged gasps as she took a shot at the next wolf, her eyes watering from the cold and the exertion. The bullet found its mark, sending the creature yelping into the night. The third wolf remained doggedly behind, its teeth bared and eyes gleaming with predatory intent. Alexandria could feel the heat of its breath on her leg as it leaped at her. She fired again, the shot echoing through the mountain pass. The wolf yelped and fell away, but not before its claws grazed Butternut's flank, leaving a trail of blood. The horse bolted, the pain fueling its speed. Alexandria's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her balance, the rifle clutched tightly in her hands. She heard Arthur's roar of fury and the pounding of his horse's hooves as he drew alongside her. He reached out, his hand closing around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"Hold on to me," he bellowed over the wind. "We're not going to make it if you don't."

Alexandria nodded, her teeth chattering as she wrapped her arms around Arthur's waist, the warmth of his body seeping into her. They rode in a tight formation, the horses' breaths coming in great, steamy clouds. The third wolf had given up the chase, disappearing into the storm. But the damage was done. Butternut's injury had made her skittish, and the pain was evident in every stride she took as she disappeared within the storm. As they neared the camp, the lights grew brighter, a beacon of hope in the relentless dark. The horses seemed to sense it too, their steps quickening despite their exhaustion.

"Can we get some help here!" Arthur called out.

Abigail and two others emerge from the cabin to see them. Abigail was more relieved to see John. They helped John off the horse, his legs buckling under him. They quickly rush him inside the cabin. Alexandria slid off Arthur's horse, her own legs unsteady. Hosea was there instantly his eyes scanning her for injuries, but she waved him off.

"John needs you more," she said, her voice trembling with the cold and the fear that clung to her.

Alexandria turned and followed after the others but she stopped in her tracks. Her vision swam, the edges of her world going dark. The cold had seeped into her bones, the exertion of the journey taking a toll she hadn't anticipated. Her legs gave out, and she felt herself slowly crumple to the ground.

"Alexandria!" Hosea's voice was a distant shout as the world around her grew dimmer.

Arthur's arms shot out, catching her just before she hit the snow.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, his grip tightening around her waist.