Three days had passed since Joel returned home. Arthur had fallen into an uneasy routine—rising early, helping with settlement duties, avoiding the curious stares of Jackson's residents. Each morning, he'd check the perimeter out of habit, scanning for threats that never materialized. Each night, he'd lie awake, still adjusting to the softness of a real bed, to the absence of immediate danger.
Today, Arthur found himself assigned to the eastern watchtower, a position that suited his preference for solitude. From this vantage point, he could observe the settlement's activities while maintaining distance. He watched as Tommy organized hunting parties, as children played in the communal areas, as Joel limped determinedly to Maria's office despite doctor's orders to rest.
Movement caught his eye—Ellie crossing the yard below, bow slung over her shoulder. She was talking animatedly with Dina, their heads close together. Arthur's jaw tightened involuntarily.
"Hey," came a voice behind him. Jesse climbed the last few rungs of the ladder. "Maria sent me to relieve you. Your shift ended ten minutes ago."
Arthur nodded curtly, surrendering the binoculars. As he prepared to descend, Jesse cleared his throat.
"So... Joel's kid, huh?"
"Apparently," Arthur replied, voice neutral.
Jesse seemed to struggle with what to say next. "That was good what you did. Saving him and Tommy. Word is you took down three of those Seattle people by yourself."
Arthur shrugged, uncomfortable with the admiration in Jesse's tone. "Right place, right time."
"Still. Not many would've jumped into a fight like that." Jesse hesitated. "Ellie said you were raised by Fireflies."
Arthur's gaze sharpened. "What else did she say?"
"Not much. She doesn't exactly overshare." Jesse adjusted his rifle strap. "Look, people here are curious, but they respect Joel. That counts for something."
Arthur considered this. "Good to know."
As he climbed down, Arthur spotted Joel sitting on his porch, whittling something while engaged in conversation with Tommy. The domesticity of the scene still struck him as surreal—the legendary smuggler who'd decimated the Fireflies, calmly carving wood in the afternoon sun.
Arthur changed direction, heading toward the eastern gate. He needed space, air that wasn't thick with expectations and histories he wasn't part of. Checking that his knife and pistol were secure, he approached the guard station.
"Going out for a bit," he told the guard, a weathered woman named Esther.
She raised an eyebrow. "Alone? Protocol says two minimum for outer perimeter patrols."
"Just need some air. Won't go far."
Esther frowned. "You're Joel's boy. Can't let you wander off and get yourself killed on my watch."
Before Arthur could protest, a voice called out, "I'll go with him."
Arthur turned to see Ellie approaching, bow still in hand. Her expression was unreadable.
"You sure?" Esther asked. "You just got back from morning patrol."
"I'm sure," Ellie replied, not looking at Arthur. "Need to check some traps anyway."
Esther shrugged. "Alright then. Be back before dark, you two."
They passed through the gate in silence, following a well-worn trail into the forest. Spring was giving way to early summer, the woods alive with bird calls and the rustle of small animals. Under different circumstances, it might have been peaceful.
"You don't have to babysit me," Arthur said finally.
"Not babysitting. Making sure you don't get lost." Ellie glanced at him. "Or run off."
"You think I'd leave without saying goodbye? After all the trouble I went through to get here?"
"I don't know what you'd do," Ellie replied bluntly. "That's the problem."
Arthur acknowledged this with a slight nod. They walked in silence for several minutes, Ellie occasionally checking her surroundings with practiced vigilance.
"Joel seems better," Arthur ventured. "Recovery going well?"
"He's pushing too hard, as usual. Doc says he needs another week, but..." Ellie trailed off with a shrug that conveyed both frustration and fondness.
"Stubborn," Arthur observed.
"Wonder where you get it from," Ellie countered, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips.
The path narrowed, forcing them to walk single file with Ellie leading. Arthur found his eyes drawn to her movements—the confident way she navigated the terrain, the alertness that never fully left her posture. She was skilled, he had to admit. The Fireflies would have valued her even without the immunity.
As they reached a small clearing, Ellie stopped to check a snare trap. Empty. She reset it with practiced efficiency.
"So," Arthur said, watching her work, "you and Dina seem close."
Ellie's hands faltered momentarily. "What about it?"
"Just making conversation."
Ellie finished with the trap and stood, brushing dirt from her hands. "Yeah, we're friends."
"Just friends?" The question slipped out before Arthur could stop it.
Ellie's eyes narrowed. "What's it to you?"
Arthur shrugged, aiming for casual. "People talk. Heard something about a dance."
A flush crept up Ellie's neck. "People should mind their own fucking business."
"So it's true then?"
"What's true?" Ellie challenged, crossing her arms.
"That she kissed you."
"Jesus," Ellie muttered, turning away. "Yes, she kissed me. At a dance. In front of everyone. And then I got pissed and stormed out."
Arthur processed this, confused by the relief he felt. "You got angry because... you don't feel the same?"
"I got angry because she made a scene!" Ellie kicked at a pinecone. "Dina does that—acts without thinking. She'd been drinking, had just broken up with Jesse again, and decided it was a great time to grab me in front of half the town."
"So you're not..."
"No." Ellie met his gaze directly now. "Not that it's any of your business."
Something shifted in the air between them—a tension Arthur couldn't quite name. He looked away first, scanning the tree line automatically.
"We should keep moving," he said. "Check your other traps."
They continued deeper into the woods, the conversation lapsing into another silence, though less hostile than before. Arthur found himself hyper-aware of Ellie's proximity, of the quiet competence she exhibited navigating the wilderness.
"Did Joel teach you all this?" he asked as she examined another trap. "Tracking, hunting?"
"Some," Ellie replied. "Tommy too. And I picked up stuff before Jackson." Her expression darkened momentarily. "Had a good teacher once. Before."
Arthur sensed a story there but didn't press. Everyone had ghosts these days.
As they moved to check the third trap, Arthur noticed something—a stillness in the forest that hadn't been there before. The birds had gone quiet. He held up a hand, stopping Ellie mid-step.
"What?" she whispered, immediately alert.
Arthur gestured for silence, tilting his head to listen. There—a soft, wet shuffling sound coming from the east. The distinctive clicking that raised the hair on the back of his neck.
"Infected," he murmured. "Multiple. Moving this way."
Ellie nodded, nocking an arrow without needing to be told. They moved together toward higher ground, finding cover behind a fallen log. Within minutes, the first of them appeared—a pack of runners followed by two clickers, moving with horrible purpose through the undergrowth.
"Too many to take on," Ellie whispered. "We should go back, warn Jackson."
Arthur's eyes narrowed, counting. "Seven runners, two clickers that I can see." He scanned the direction they were coming from. "This isn't normal movement. They're heading somewhere specific."
"Yeah, toward Jackson," Ellie hissed.
"No. Look at their pattern." Arthur pointed subtly. "Too coordinated for random wandering. Something's driving them."
Ellie studied the infected more carefully and paled. "You're right. I've never seen them move like this unless..."
"Unless there's a larger group behind them," Arthur finished. "A horde."
They exchanged a grim look, understanding the implications. A horde could overwhelm Jackson's defenses if they weren't prepared.
"We need higher ground," Arthur said. "Get a better view of how many we're dealing with."
Ellie nodded toward a hill to their right. "There's an old hunter's blind up there. Good vantage point."
They retreated carefully, keeping low and downwind of the infected. The climb was steep but manageable, bringing them to a crude wooden platform nestled in the branches of a large pine. Arthur pulled himself up after Ellie, the small space forcing them into close proximity.
From this height, what they saw chilled their blood. Beyond the initial group, a mass of infected moved through the valley—dozens, possibly a hundred. Runners, clickers, and in their midst, the hulking forms of bloaters.
"Fuck," Ellie breathed. "This is bad. Really bad."
"They're heading straight for Jackson," Arthur confirmed, focusing the binoculars he'd brought. "ETA three hours, maybe less if they speed up."
"We need to warn them now." Ellie turned to climb down, but Arthur caught her arm.
"Wait. There's something else." He adjusted the binoculars, focusing on a strange pattern at the edges of the horde. "Someone's... herding them."
"What?" Ellie grabbed for the binoculars. As she leaned forward, the weathered platform beneath them groaned ominously.
"Careful," Arthur warned.
Ellie peered through the lenses. "I see it. Figures at the edges. Human." She lowered the binoculars, expression grim. "Who the fuck would guide infected toward a settlement?"
Before Arthur could answer, the platform gave another warning creak. "We need to get down," he said. "Now."
They began their descent, Arthur leading the way. He had just reached the ground when a deafening crack split the air. The platform collapsed, sending Ellie tumbling. Arthur lunged, breaking her fall partially, but not before her leg struck a jagged branch with a sickening thud.
Ellie bit back a cry of pain. Blood immediately darkened her jeans below the knee.
"How bad?" Arthur asked sharply, drawing his knife as he scanned for infected. The noise would have alerted any nearby.
"Bad enough," Ellie grimaced, trying to stand and immediately collapsing back. "Fucking hell."
Arthur quickly examined the wound—a deep gash that had narrowly missed the major artery. "Can you walk?"
"Not quickly," Ellie admitted through gritted teeth.
The sound of infected vocalizations grew closer—the noise had indeed drawn attention. Arthur made a swift calculation.
"Change of plans." He tore a strip from his shirt, binding Ellie's leg tightly. "We're going to have to find shelter, treat this, then circle back to Jackson."
"No time," Ellie protested. "The horde—"
"Won't reach Jackson for hours. You'll bleed out if we try to run the whole way like this."
As if to punctuate his point, three runners burst into view, drawn by the commotion. Arthur pushed Ellie behind him, knife ready.
"Don't waste bullets," he muttered as she reached for her pistol. "Sound will bring more."
The first runner charged. Arthur sidestepped, driving his blade into its temple with practiced efficiency. The second and third attacked simultaneously. Arthur ducked the first, slashing hamstrings as he moved, then caught the second with an upward thrust through the soft underside of its jaw.
The injured runner scrabbled on the ground, still dangerous. Ellie's arrow took it through the eye with deadly accuracy.
"There will be more," Arthur said, retrieving his knife and cleaning it on the dead runner's clothing. "Can you shoot from coverage if I carry you?"
Ellie hesitated, pride warring with practicality. "Yeah."
Arthur sheathed his knife and crouched. "Arms around my neck. I'll try not to jostle your leg."
He lifted her in one smooth motion, adjusting her weight across his back. Despite her slender frame, Ellie was solid muscle, but Arthur's Firefly training had prepared him for carrying wounded comrades.
"That old ranger station," Ellie directed, pointing east. "Maybe half a mile. Has medical supplies."
Arthur nodded and set off at a measured pace, constantly scanning for threats. Ellie kept her bow ready, watching their six. They moved in efficient silence, the only sounds their breathing and the occasional hiss of pain from Ellie when her leg was jostled.
The forest had become deadly quiet, most wildlife having fled the approaching horde. When they reached a shallow stream, Arthur paused.
"Going to mask our scent," he explained, stepping carefully into the water and following it downstream for several hundred yards before emerging on the opposite bank. The cold water would help slow the bleeding too.
"Smart," Ellie acknowledged. "Joel taught you that?"
"Fireflies," Arthur corrected. "Though I guess he might have taught them."
Twenty minutes of careful movement brought them to the ranger station—a small wooden structure at the edge of a clearing. Arthur set Ellie down against the outer wall while he checked the interior, knife drawn. Finding it clear, he returned and helped her inside.
The station was dusty but intact, with a first aid kit mounted on one wall. Arthur lowered Ellie onto the desk, careful of her injured leg.
"Need to clean that," he said, rummaging through the kit and finding alcohol, gauze, and sutures.
Ellie's face was pale, her breathing shallow. "Just do it."
Arthur cut away the fabric around the wound. The gash was deep, as he'd feared, requiring stitches.
"This will hurt," he warned, uncapping the alcohol.
"Not my first time," Ellie replied, eyes meeting his with grim determination.
She barely flinched as Arthur cleaned the wound, her stoicism impressive. As he prepared the suture needle, her eyes remained fixed on his face, studying him with unnerving intensity.
"You've done this before," she observed.
"Field medicine was part of training," Arthur replied, threading the needle. "Hold still."
He worked methodically, each stitch neat and precise. Ellie remained silent, though sweat beaded on her forehead from the pain. When Arthur finished, he wrapped the wound in clean gauze.
"You'll need antibiotics when we get back," he said. "But this should hold for now."
"Thanks," Ellie said quietly. "Thought you might use this as a chance to get rid of me."
Arthur looked up sharply. "Why would I do that?"
"I don't know." Ellie shrugged. "Tying up loose ends. Joel's first kid doesn't want competition."
Arthur snorted. "If I wanted you gone, I wouldn't have saved Joel in the first place."
Something unspoken passed between them—acknowledgment of a shared connection to Joel, however complicated.
"Why did you really come to Jackson?" Ellie asked suddenly. "The truth."
Arthur considered deflecting but found himself answering honestly. "To understand why Joel did what he did in Salt Lake City. Why he destroyed everything the Fireflies had worked for. Why he saved one girl at the cost of a cure."
Ellie's expression hardened. "And now that you've met me? Think it was worth it?"
Arthur held her gaze. "I think Joel thought it was."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have right now."
Arthur moved to the window, checking their surroundings. No immediate threats visible, but the ominous stillness remained.
"We should rest a bit before heading back," he decided. "Let that leg stabilize."
Ellie nodded, exhaustion evident despite her attempts to hide it. "How long do you think we have before the horde reaches Jackson's perimeter?"
"Two hours minimum," Arthur calculated. "Sooner if something spooks them into running."
"And those people herding them?"
"I don't know." Arthur frowned. "Could be Abby's group, looking for revenge. Could be scavengers using infected as weapons to soften up settlements before raiding."
"Either way, we need to warn Jackson," Ellie said, attempting to stand.
Arthur moved quickly to her side. "Another fifteen minutes. Then we go." When she looked ready to argue, he added, "You're no good to Jackson if you bleed out before we get there."
Reluctantly, Ellie settled back. Arthur took up position by the window, dividing his attention between the forest outside and the injured girl behind him. Something about Ellie drew his gaze—her resilience, her fierce loyalty to Joel despite their recent conflict. She reminded him of his mother in some ways.
"Tell me about her," Ellie said suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. "About Tess."
Arthur tensed, unprepared for the question. "Why?"
"Joel never talks about her. Just that she was his partner, that she died helping get me to the Fireflies."
Arthur's hand went to his pocket, where he kept his mother's photograph. After a moment's hesitation, he withdrew it, passing it to Ellie. The image showed a younger Tess, her sharp features softened by the hint of a smile, brown hair falling across one eye.
"She was tough," Arthur said quietly. "Didn't take shit from anyone. Smart, too. Could have been anything in the old world."
Ellie studied the photograph. "You look like her. Around the eyes."
"She used to sing to me," Arthur continued, surprising himself with the admission. "Old songs. Said music was too precious to lose, even after everything else went to hell."
"Joel plays guitar," Ellie offered. "He's been teaching me."
"You any good?"
"Terrible," Ellie admitted with a small smile. "But getting better."
Another silence fell, more comfortable than their previous ones. Arthur checked his watch.
"Time to move. Think you can walk if I support you?"
Ellie nodded, returning the photograph. "I can manage."
Arthur helped her up, slinging her arm across his shoulders. "Lean on me. We'll take it slow."
They emerged cautiously, Arthur alert for any signs of infected. The forest remained eerily silent, most animals having fled the approaching horde. They set off toward Jackson, moving as quickly as Ellie's injury would allow.
"So," Ellie broke the silence after several minutes. "You and Dina seemed to hit it off."
Arthur gave her a sidelong glance. "Just being friendly. She showed me around the stables yesterday."
"Uh-huh," Ellie responded, her tone unreadable.
"Something I should know?"
"Nope." Ellie adjusted her weight, wincing slightly. "Just... she gets around."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You sound bothered by that."
"I'm not bothered," Ellie retorted, too quickly. Then, more honestly, "It's complicated."
"Because of Jesse?"
"Because of everything." Ellie sighed. "Dina's my friend. My best friend. That kiss... it crossed a line."
Arthur considered this. "You didn't want her to?"
"I didn't want it like that. Public. Impulsive. Like I was just another conquest." Ellie's voice hardened. "And then Joel had to step in, all protective, and I just... I lost it."
"What did you say to him?" Arthur asked quietly.
Ellie's face clouded with guilt. "That I didn't need his fucking help. That he wasn't my dad." She swallowed hard. "That was the night before Abby took him."
They walked in silence for a moment, each lost in thought.
"He understands," Arthur said finally. "Whatever you said—he knows you didn't mean it."
"Maybe." Ellie didn't sound convinced. "But what if... what if he hadn't survived? If you hadn't been there? My last words to him would have been—" She broke off, voice tight.
Arthur adjusted his grip to better support her. "But I was there. And he's alive. The rest is just what-ifs."
They continued their slow journey, the walls of Jackson gradually becoming visible through the trees. Arthur's thoughts circled back to the approaching horde, to the mysterious figures directing it.
"When we get back," he said, "I think I should take a team out. Try to divert the horde."
"Without knowing who's controlling them? Too dangerous."
"Better than waiting for them to hit the walls."
"We'll talk to Tommy and Maria," Ellie decided. "Form a plan."
As they neared the settlement, shouts went up from the watchtower. The gate opened, guards rushing out to meet them. Among them was