The fire crackled low in Joel's cabin.
Arthur sat across from him at the old wooden table, one hand curled around a mug of black coffee, the other resting quietly near the edge of his holster. Joel leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, eyes fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth.
Outside, Jackson was quiet. Snow still blanketed the rooftops and frost hung from the window glass. The world beyond felt far away.
Neither of them spoke for a long while.
Finally, Joel broke the silence.
"You ever lose someone?" he asked, voice low and rough.
Arthur didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on the fire.
"Too many to count."
Joel gave a faint, bitter nod.
"Yeah," he murmured. "That's the way of it, ain't it?"
Another moment passed. Then Joel leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
"There's something you oughta know," he said. "About how all this started. The world you're in now."
Arthur looked at him, nodding once, slowly.
"Reckon I've been waitin' to hear that."
Joel took a breath like he was pulling up a weight from deep inside him.
"Outbreak hit twenty years ago," he began. "Some fungus… mutated. Started infectin' people through food, bites, spores. Got in their brain. Turned 'em into monsters."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I saw one. Damn thing looked like its face was growin' mushrooms."
Joel nodded. "That was a runner. There's worse ones. Clickers, bloaters... But it started fast. Cities fell in days. Chaos. Panic. Military tried to lock it down. Didn't work."
He rubbed his hands together slowly.
"I was in Texas when it happened. With my daughter."
Arthur studied him quietly. Joel's voice had changed — softer now. Fragile.
"We tried to leave. Roads were jammed, people were screamin'. Thought maybe if we got outta town... we'd be okay."
He swallowed. Looked down at the floor.
"We weren't."
Arthur didn't say a word. He just let Joel sit in it.
Joel's voice cracked, barely audible. "She was only fourteen."
Arthur felt something cold ripple through his chest. His grip tightened slightly on the mug.
Joel blinked hard and looked up again, forcing composure.
"She died in my arms. Shot by a soldier tryin' to contain the outbreak. Said we were a risk."
The room was silent but for the fire.
Arthur exhaled through his nose.
"I'm sorry."
Joel gave a faint nod, but he didn't look at him.
Arthur hesitated a moment, then asked, "The girl. Ellie. She ain't... your kin, is she?"
Joel shook his head slowly. "No. Not by blood."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "But you look at her like she is."
Joel's eyes flicked up to meet his. "She saved me," he said simply.
Arthur leaned back, nodding slowly.
"Funny how life throws folks at you like that. Ain't expectin' 'em. Don't think you need 'em. Then one day, you'd tear the damn world down for 'em."
Joel gave a small smile.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Exactly that."
Arthur looked into the fire, thinking of Jack. Of John. Of Hosea, and the gang, and everything he'd left behind on that mountain.
He'd carried his guilt all the way here. But in this stranger's voice, he heard something he recognized: loss, yes — but also survival.
Joel stood up, grabbed a bottle of something amber from the shelf, and poured two glasses. He set one down in front of Arthur.
"To the ones we lost," Joel said.
Arthur lifted the glass.
"And the ones we still got."
They drank in silence.