January 1899

It's been so long since I've let myself think about him. Arthur. That name used to stir something in me, something I thought was long buried—something that still lingers in the corners of my heart, though I don't let it surface often. After all this time, I thought maybe it'd fade, but when I look at him, even just for a moment, it's hard to forget.

He assumed I was dead to that day. I couldn't bear to watch him get too close again, not after everything. The way his eyes looked at me... I couldn't let that warmth grow again, not when I knew the pain would follow.

But he looks different now. There's a certain heaviness in him, a shadow that's grown deeper over the years. And then I remember his past, his old life with Mary—well, it made me feel small. The guilt still clings to me, even now. Maybe that's why I keep my distance, even as I long for him. Even as my heart wants to remember all the good. But what if I'm just setting myself up for more heartache? I can't risk being hurt again. Not like that.

He has his demons, and I have mine.

I suppose it's foolish to feel so torn after all this time, but when I feel him next to me, I can't help but wonder what could've been, what might still be, if only we could forget our pasts.

But then I hear his laugh, or catch a glimpse of that familiar crooked smile, and I feel the warmth creeping in again. It's hard to shake off the ghosts of old memories.

Enough about that. For now, I need to focus on the task ahead. Charles and I are heading out with Arthur to hunt some deer. The camp could use the meat, and I've been feeling restless lately. Maybe the chase will help clear my mind, or at least distract me. We've got to catch something worth bringing back, and maybe, just maybe, it'll give me a reason to breathe again.

It's strange, being out here with them both. There was a time I never would've thought I'd be in this position—alive, let alone still struggling with all the things that weigh on me. It's the dead of winter now, and it feels like the cold will never let up. But spring is coming. I can feel it, even if it's just a whisper in the wind. Maybe it's the hope I need to keep going, to think that once the snow melts, the sun will shine on us again. Maybe we'll move on to warmer places, and things will change. Maybe I'll finally change too.

For now, I have to push those thoughts aside and do what I do best. Focus on the hunt, on the future, and on the things I can control. Maybe, just maybe, when the time comes, I won't be afraid of feeling something again.

But for today, the hunt is all that matters.

Alexandria had woken early, the cold seeping into her bones. She wrapped her coat tightly around herself as she sat at the table where her journal lay open, the candle flickering low beside it. Outside, the world was still wrapped in the darkness, the snow a silent sentinel against the cabin walls. She lowered her pen after she was finished writing. Her thoughts drifted to the quiet moment she had shared with Arthur the night before. The way he looked at her, the gentle touch of his hand, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time again. She knew she couldn't ignore it, but she was scared of what it meant. Was it just the closeness of everything that had happened that brought them together again, or was it something more? The smell of brewing coffee pulled her from her musings, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the day ahead. She knew they had to hunt, and the thought of being out in the quiet wilderness with Arthur was both comforting and unnerving. Would they finally address the tension between them, or would it continue to hang in the air like a mist off the river? Pulling on her heavy winter coat, she stepped out into the crisp morning air, the cold a sharp slap to her cheeks. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, the stars still twinkling like diamond chips in the velvet dark. She took a moment to appreciate the beauty of it all—how the snow-covered landscape made everything seem so serene and untouched. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and pain of the night before. Her boots squeaked against the fresh snow as she made her way to John's cabin. The camp was slowly coming to life around her, the sounds of early morning activities muffled by the thick blanket of snow. She knocked gently on the door, not wanting to disturb him if he was still sleeping. After a moment, the door creaked open, and John's tired eyes met hers. He looked even paler than usual, his injuries still fresh and painful.

"You're up early," he rasped, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Couldn't sleep," Alexandria admitted, her breath misting in the cold air. "Thought I'd come to check on you."

John nodded, from his place on the bed. She steps farther into the cabin. The cabin was cold, the embers from the previous night's fire barely glowing. She moved to the hearth, her eyes scanning the room for kindling.

"I'll get it," John said, his voice hoarse. "Or Abigail will when she comes to check on me."

Alexandria ignored him, kneeling by the fireplace to gather some dry twigs and scrap paper. She carefully arranged them in the fireplace before striking a match, the flame catching and spreading quickly. The fire grew, casting a warm glow over the cabin and chasing away some of the shadows from John's face. She added a few small logs, watching as they crackled and spit, the fire growing stronger with each addition. John's eyes never left her as she worked, his gaze filled with a quiet admiration that made her cheeks warm. She had always been capable, but after the battle, she had proven herself to be so much more than that- she had shown strength and courage that even surprised her. She felt a strange sense of pride knowing that she had earned the respect of these hardened men. Once the fire was roaring, Alexandria moved to the small stove in the corner of the cabin, setting the kettle to boil. The smell of coffee grounds filled the air as she spooned them into a pot, the rich aroma mingling with the scent of burning wood. She poured the hot water over them, the dark liquid pooling at the bottom before bubbling up to the top. The scent of the coffee grew stronger, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. John shifted slightly, he grimaced in pain.

"You're a lifesaver, Lil Wildfire," he said, his voice rough.

Alexandria's eyes softened as she handed him a steaming mug of coffee.

"It's nothing," she replied. "We're in this together."

John took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You're something else, you know that?" he murmured. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be fighting alongside us again."

Alexandria's hand tightened around her mug, the heat seeping into her chilled skin.

"I know," she said, her voice low. "But I made a promise to you and Arthur a long time ago. No matter what happened, I'd find my way back to you."

John's gaze grew solemn, his eyes searching hers.

"You kept that promise, Alexandria," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd ride into camp again."

He took a sip of the coffee, the warmth of it seeming to chase the chills away. Alexandria's lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"Well, I'm not one to break my promise," she said, her voice light. "And you two had better get used to me again because I'm not going anywhere this time."

She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing over her chest.

"I'm not the same girl who I once was. Not someone they can kidnap."

John chuckled, his chest shaking with mirth.

"We've noticed," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You've got more fire in you now than a whole barn full of dry hay."

Alexandria grinned back at him, the warmth of the coffee seeping through the mug and into her hands again as she picked it up.

"Well, you two better get used to it," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "I've got a whole winter's worth of trouble to make up for."

John chuckled, the sound was a little pained but genuine.

"We'll manage," he said. "But maybe keep the fireworks to a minimum."

Alexandria rolled her eyes playfully.

"I'll try," she promised, though the twinkle in her eye suggested she might not keep that promise. "But I make no guarantees."

The two of them shared a quiet laugh, the kind that comes from a deep shared history filled with joy and sorrow. It was a moment of peace in the eye of a storm, a brief respite from the chaos that surrounded them. The warmth of the cabin was a stark contrast to the cold outside, but it was the warmth of their friendship that truly brought comfort. Alexandria stood from her seat after she finished her coffee. She moved around the cabin with a grace that belied her exhaustion. She made John another cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the small space. She placed it on the wooden stool beside his bed, the steaming liquid a symbol of their enduring bond. She noticed the way his hand trembled as he took the cup from her, the effort of even that simple act clear in the lines of his face. Despite his weakened state, she saw the strength in him, the same strength that had brought him back to them. With coffee in hand, John's eyes searched hers, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. He took a sip, the warmth of the drink seemed to give him a bit of color back to his cheeks.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Alexandria turned to the small table where a plate of jerky and a couple of hard biscuits were laid out. She picked up the plate and brought it over to him, placing it gently on his lap.

"Eat," she ordered gently. "You need your strength."

John's eyes searched hers, a mix of amusement and affection in their depths.

"Bossy as ever, I see," he teased, taking a bite of the jerky with his good hand.

The rich smoky flavor filled his mouth, the chewing motion causing his face to contort slightly with pain. Alexandria watched him with a furrowed brow, her concern evident. She took the plate back and set it aside before pulling out a knife from her belt.

"Hold on," she said, her voice firm. "Let me make it easier for you."

John watched as she sliced the jerky into smaller pieces, her movements precise and efficient. Then, she took the hard biscuits and crumbled them into a bowl, mixing them with a bit of water to form a mush that was easier to swallow. She added a dash of honey from a nearby jar, the sweetness seeping into the mix, making it more palatable. The aroma filled the cabin, a comforting scent that seemed to ease the tension in the air.

"Here," she said, handing him the bowl. "It's not much, but it'll help."

John took the bowl with a grateful smile, his eyes never leaving hers. The warmth of the food seemed to seep into his very soul, bringing life back into his face. He took a tentative spoonful, the sweetness of the honey mingling with the salty tang of the biscuits. It was a simple meal, but it tasted like heaven after everything that had happened to him.

"Alexandria," he said around a mouthful. "You always did have a way of making something out of nothing."

Alexandria's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. She had to cook from her nana, who had taught her that even in the harshest conditions, a warm meal could bring comfort and hope. It was a skill that served her well during her years with the gang, and it was clear that it hadn't been forgotten. John ate in quiet contentment, the simple food filling his stomach and providing the energy he needed to heal. Between mouthfuls, he spoke with affectionate exasperation.

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"You always had that way. Even when we were kids, you could turn a handful of berries into a feast fit for a king."

Alexandria laughed at the memory.

"It's the least I could do," she said, her voice soft. "It didn't help that you and Arthur kept stealing bites."

Their laughter echoed through the cabin, mixing with the crackling fire and the distant sounds of the camp waking up. For a moment, it was as if the weight of the world had lifted from their shoulders. The warmth of the food and the companionship was a balm to their weary spirits. After John had finished his meal, Alexandria gathered the dishes, her movement efficient and practiced from years of camp living. She cleaned the bowl and mugs with a damp cloth, setting them aside to dry. She turned to him.

"You should get some sleep," she said gently. "You need to rest to heal up."

John nodded, his eyes dropping slightly with fatigue. He had been trying to keep it at bay.

"I think you're right," he admitted, his voice thick with the weight of his eyelids. "But what about you? You hadn't gotten any sleep yet."

Alexandria offered him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about me," she said. "I promise I'll get some rest after Charles, Arthur and I come back from hunting later."

John's eyes searched hers for a moment before he nodded, his exhaustion winning out.

"Alright," he murmured. "But wake me if you need anything."

Alexandria promised she would, her gaze lingering on his face before she turned to leave. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, leaving John to the warmth of the fire and the gentle whispers of the wind outside. She stepped into the crisp morning air, the snow crunching under her boots as she made her way to Pearson, Arthur, and Charles. All three men were chatting there were grim expressions on all of their faces.

"Well, if it isn't the camp's guardian angel," Pearson said, his tone light, but his eyes serious.

He flashed her a flirtatious smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're just in time for the hunt, darlin'. We're running low on supplies again."

Alexandria nodded, her expression a mix of determination and exhaustion. She had barely slept, but she knew the importance of keeping the camp fed.

"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice steady despite her weariness.

Pearson's smile fell away, his eyes darkening as he turned to the other two men.

"Hopefully you guys can catch some deer," he said.

Arthur's eyes narrowed at the implication, his annoyance with Pearson's flirtation was clear. He stopped out of the cabin, his boots leaving tracks in the fresh snow. Alexandria watched him go, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. Pearson had always had a way of pushing Arthur's buttons, but she knew her old friend well enough to know that his gruffness was just a front. With a gentle smile, she turned back to Pearson.

"Thank you for the update," she said, her voice soft. "We'll bring back as much as we can."

Pearon's eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he nodded, his smile slipping.

"Take care of him," he said, his voice low. "He's been through enough."

Alexandria's smile grew sad.

"I will," she promised, her heart heavy with the weight of her words.

She knew Arthur better than anyone—his pain was as clear as the snowflakes that swirled around them. With a nod, she turned to follow the two men, her boots sinking into the fresh snow. The sun had just crested the horizon, casting a soft pink light over the camp. The air was still and cold, the only sounds were the crunch of their footsteps and the distant call of a lone wolf. As they approached the hitching post, she saw Arthur standing there, his horse already saddled and ready to go. Charles looked up from his pack, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Here, you take this. I can't use it and you'll have to," he said, holding out his bow to Arthur.

Arthur eyed the weapon, the leather grip worn smooth from years of use. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, the wood polished to a gleaming shine. The weight of it in his hands had a perfect balance. He looks at Charles.

"Oh, you're joking..." He said gruffly, sliding the bow across his shoulders.

"Use a gun.. and we'll scare off every animal for miles around," Alexandria warned.

The three of them mounted their horses, the saddle creaking as they swung their legs over and settled in. The animals sorted and stamped in the cold, eager to get moving. They kicked them into a trot.

"Have you shot a bow before Alexandria?" Charles asked.

Alexandria nodded.

"Once," she said, her voice low. "When I was younger."

The memory was faint, a distant echo from another life. She had been with her grandfather, out in the wilderness that had been her playground. He had taught her how to shoot, his gentle voice guiding her as she pulled back the string and let the arrow fly. It had been a simpler life before her world had gone to hell and she was forced to fight for survival.

"Alexandria?" Charles's voice pulled her from her thoughts, his eyes concerned. "You okay?"

She realized she had been staring off into the distance. Alexandria blinked and nodded, shaking off the memories.

"Yeah, I'm good," she lied, her voice a little too bright. "What did you say?"

Charles's expression was gentle as he repeated himself.

"Keep your eyes peeled for any movement," he instructed. "With this much snow on the ground, it won't be easy to spot anything."

Alexandria nodded, her eyes scanning the landscape as they moved. The snow had turned the world into a monochrome painting, the only splashes of color coming from their coats and the horses' saddle blankets. The silence was almost deafening, the muffled sounds of their horses' hooves the only thing breaking it. As Arthur and Charles moved off towards the river, following the signs of a larger herd, she spotted something different—a single pair of deer tracks, heading away from the water and into the dense forest. Her curiosity piqued, and she decided to follow them. The tracks were fresh, the edges of the prints sharp and defined in the untouched snow. The forest grew quieter as she ventured deeper, the towering trees casting long shadows that stretched out like skeletal fingers. The air grew colder, the scent of pine needles sharp in her nose. Alexandria's eyes never left the tracks, her focus unwavering. She had always been good at tracking, a skill honed from years of surviving in the wilds. The deer she followed was a smart creature, avoiding the more open areas where it could be spotted easily. Butternut, her horse, seemed to sense the urgency of their mission, her steps sure and silent through the snow. The two of them moved as one, a well-oiled machine that had been tested time and again. Alexandria's hand rested gently on her hunting rifle, her finger lightly brushing against it. The anticipation grew with each step, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. The tracks grew fresher, the snow barely having a chance to settle around the delicate hooves of the deer. It was clear that the animal was in a hurry, and she knew she had to be quick if she wanted to catch up. She urged Butternut into a steady lope, their breaths puffing out in the cold air. Alexandria felt a surge of excitement as the tracks grew closer together, the deer's panic rising. She had always enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the thrill of the hunt. It was a part of her that she had buried deep, but it had never truly disappeared. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her senses heightened as they moved deeper into the forest. Butternut's breaths grew heavier, her muscles bunching with the excitement of the pursuit. The bond between the two of them was palpable, a silent communication that had been forged over countless miles and endless days. Alexandria's hand tightened on the reins, her eyes never leaving the tracks ahead. And then, there it was—a flash of brown in the trees, the deer's white tail flicking like a ghost in the shadows. Butternut's ears pricked up, and she gave a soft whinny as if to say, "I've got it." The deer had led them to a small clearing, the snow thick and untouched. It had made a mistake, and it knew it. Alexandria slid off her horse, her movements silent as a cat. She cradled her rifle in her arms, her breaths slow and steady. She had learned long ago that the quietest hunter was the most successful. She took a moment to steady her aim, her eyes locked on the trembling creature. The deer had stopped, its dark eyes wide with fear as it searched for an escape route. Butternut remained calm, her breaths steaming in the cold air. She knew the drill, having been a part of countless hunts with Alexandria. The two of them had always had an unspoken understanding—one that was as natural as breathing. They had been a team for years, and this was no different. Alexandria took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. The deer had paused, unsure of its next move. Its dark eyes darted back and forth, searching for a way out. She knew she had to act quickly before the animal could bolt and disappear into the trees. The rifle felt heavy in her hands, but she had done this before—more times than she could count. Butternut's muscles quivered with anticipation, her eyes locked on the deer. Alexandria raised the weapon, the sight aligning with the creature's chest. Her heart pounded in her ears, the world around her fading into the background. Time seemed to slow as she took the shot, the crack of the rifle echoing through the clearing. The deer leaped, the bullet finding its mark. It staggered before collapsing into the snow, the red stain spreading like a crimson flower against the pristine white. A sadness swept over her as she approached the animal, the reality of the hunt's end sinking in. Alexandria took a moment to thank the deer for its sacrifice. It was a small gesture, but one that felt important in the quiet of the forest. She had always respected the creatures she hunted, knowing that without them, she would not have made it this far. With a gentle touch, she ran her hand over the deer's soft fur, her eyes closing briefly as she whispered a silent prayer of gratitude. After she was done she carried the deer to Butternut then she secured it to Butternut's saddle, she mounted up, and turned back towards the river. She knew Arthur and Charles would be waiting for her, their hunting success likely written on their faces. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the thought of seeing them, of sharing the spoils of their hunt. The ride back was quieter, the weight of the deer carcass a somber reminder of the necessity of their actions. Butternut's hooves crunched through the snow, the rhythmic sound a comforting lullaby to the otherwise silent woods. When Arthur and Charles saw her emerge from the trees, they reined in their horses, the look on their faces a mix of relief and curiosity. Their catches were slung over the saddle, they both had a deer.

"I think we got enough meat to last us a long while," Charles said, his voice carrying the hint of a smile.

Arthur's eyes searched hers as she approached, his expression unreadable. He had never been one for words, especially when it came to showing affection. But in the way he studied her, the gentle nod of his head, she knew he was proud. They turned their horses and headed back in the direction of the camp. The journey back was a silent one, the weight of their successful hunt and the lingering echo of the shots a constant reminder of the world they lived in. The snow was untouched, a pristine canvas that painted the scene in stark white and the occasional splash of crimson from their kills. As they neared the river, a sudden rustling in the bushes snapped them from their thoughts. A bear, massive and unpredictable, lumbered into view. Its fur was thick with the onset of winter, and its eyes gleamed with a hunger that was all too familiar.

"Arthur," Charles warned, his voice low and steady. "Keep back."

Alexandria's heart raced as the bear ambled closer, its heavy footsteps shaking the very ground beneath them. It was a creature of the wild, driven by instinct and hunger, and they were trespassers in its domain. She knew that bears were unpredictable, especially when they had cubs to protect. But there was something in this one's eyes that was more than just hunger—it was desperation. Her gaze flicked to Arthur and Charles, the tension in their bodies as palpable as the cold air. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

"We should go around," she said, her voice firm but steady. "It's not worth the risk."

Charles met her gaze, his own eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"You're right," he agreed, his hand tightening on the reins. "Let's head upstream. It'll add some distance, but it'll keep us out of the bear's path."

With a nod, Arthur fell in line behind them, his rifle at the ready. The three of them turned their horses and began to make their way along the river, the water's gentle flow a soothing backdrop to the tension that coiled in their bellies. The bear watched them for a moment, its massive form a stark contrast to the delicate snow-covered landscape. Then, with a grunt, it lumbered back into the trees, disappearing from view. Alexandria's eyes remained on the spot where the bear had vanished, her breathing shallow. She knew better than to let her guard down in the wilderness. But as the moments ticked by without another sound, she slowly began to relax. The tension in Arthur's shoulders eased, and even Charles's grip on the reins loosened.

---

They made their way back to camp, the sun now high in the sky, casting a stark contrast on the snow. The quiet was a stark reminder of the harsh reality of their lives—every step could be their last. But when the camp came into view, the warmth of the campfire was like a beacon of hope, drawing them in. Once they had dismounted, Alexandria immediately offered to help Charles with his deer. His injured hand made the task of unloading and preparing the kill much more difficult. She took the heavy carcass from him with a nod, her muscles protesting from the strain but her resolve unwavering. The gesture was not lost on Arthur, who watched her with a newfound respect. Together, they approached Pearson's butcher's station, the scent of blood and iron already heavy in the air. The camp's butcher was a burly man with a gruff demeanor, but his eyes lit up when he saw the bounty they had brought back.

"Well, well, well... Just drop it down in here," Pearson said, his voice filled with gratitude for the catch. "Looks like we're going to have ourselves a feast. We've got a lot of work to do before dinner."

Alexandria nodded, laying the deer down with care. She stepped back, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. The warmth of the camp was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, and she felt the heat from the fire on her skin.

"Jesus, what is that?"

"Navy rum, sir... it's the only thing... the only thing," Pearson replied, his voice loud and excited from either being partly drunk or just from being happy.

Pearson laughs as Charles hands him back the bottle.

"Yes, seems to have done a treat on you," Arthur said sarcastically towards Pearson before turning to Charles. "You go rest that hand, Charles."

"I'll be fine in a few days," Charles said, his voice firm but gentle.

"You mind helping me with the skinning, Mr. Morgan? It's easier if we do it together. I could have Alexandria help skin the third one," Pearson said, glancing in Alexandria's direction.

"Do I get to skin you?" Arthur responded, his voice gruff and serious.

"You're always one with the jokes, aren't you? Come on," Pearson said.

"This isn't a job for a man with a burnt hand. I'll see you both later," Charles murmured, as he made his exit heading inside one of the warmer cabins.

Arthur looked over at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she wasn't sure if he would refuse again. But then, with a gruff nod, he gestured to the third deer.

"Let me take care of this one," he said, his voice gruff. "You've done enough for today."

Alexandria looked up at him, surprise and a hint of annoyance flitting across her face.

"I can do it," she insisted. "I've done it plenty of times."

"I know you can," Arthur said, his voice firm. "But you've been up all morning and already done enough. Bring it in, and then get some rest. We'll handle the rest."

Alexandria studied him for a moment, the exhaustion in her eyes giving way to a spark of understanding. She knew Arthur wasn't one for outright affection, but his concern was clear. With a nod, she untied the deer from her horse, the animal's lifeless weight heavy in her arms. As she carried it over to the butcher's station, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride at his words.

"Thank you," she murmured, setting the deer down with the others. "I think I am gonna go lay down for a while or check on Sadie."

"Good idea," Arthur said gruffly. "We've got this covered."

Alexandria nodded and turned away, her legs heavy with fatigue as she trudged through the snow to the women's cabin. The warmth inside was a stark contrast to the cold outside, the scent of burning wood and brewing coffee a comforting embrace. She found Sadie sitting by the fireplace, her eyes red-rimmed and her face drawn. The sight of her friend brought a fresh wave of pain to the surface—a stark reminder of all they had lost. With a weary sigh, she set down her rifle and began to peel off her layers of clothing. The cabin was small but cozy, a haven from the harsh world outside. She grabbed a mug from the shelf and filled it with the steaming liquid, the heat seeping into her bones as she took a sip.

"How are you holding up?" she asked softly, sitting down beside her.

Sadie's eyes were fixed on the flickering flames, her thoughts a million miles away.

"I'm okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just tired."

Alexandria nodded, understanding all too well. She knew the weight of what had happened to them was still heavy on her friend's shoulders.

"We'll get through this," she assured her, her voice firm. "We always do."

With a final squeeze of Sadie's hand, she stood up and made her way to the door. The cold air hit her like a slap in the face, the warmth of the cabin forgotten as she stepped outside. The snow had begun to fall more heavily now, the flakes sticking to her lashes and melting on her cheeks. She blinked them away, the chilly sting a welcome distraction from the ache in her heart.