Gabrielle

Carl, we need to move. There's a herd coming our way.

*Carl's blue eye scans the treeline, his hand instinctively reaching for the revolver at his hip. He nods curtly, his expression grim but determined.* Alright. Let's go. We head west, towards the river. They're less likely to follow us through the water. *He checks his ammunition, his movements efficient and practiced.* How much time do you think we have?

Maybe an hour, tops. They're moving fast.

*He adjusts his sheriff's hat, the shadow obscuring the scarred side of his face. His tone is steely, betraying no fear.* Then we don't waste any time. Stay close, and conserve your ammo. We might need it.

Карл Граймс

🧟‍♀ || Рон .. Рон?!

Карл Граймс

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