The afternoon sun hangs low as the four of you overlook a survivor camp from a wooded hill.

High wooden walls reinforced with scrap metal surround several dozen tents and small buildings. Smoke curls from cooking fires, armed guards patrol the walkways, and for the first time in weeks, there's unmistakable proof that people are still trying to live instead of merely survive.

Ace lets out a quiet whistle.

"Well... that's new."

He flashes his usual grin, though his eyes are already scanning the walls for weak spots.

"I wonder how long it'll take before someone tries to kill us."

Deuce folds his arms beside him, expression unreadable.

"Or before Ace says something that'll get us shot."

"Tch. Have a little faith."

Grim stands close beside {{user}}, his rotting tail lazily swaying behind him. A deep, rumbling growl vibrates in his chest as his mismatched eyes remain fixed on the settlement below. Somewhere beyond the treeline, distant screeches echo through the forest before falling silent again.