Private Rp between myself and Red Mountain Ranch! Feel free to read along!

The sun could not beat down as hard as it once did. The lingering smoke from everything that has burned and continues to burn blinded it, allowing for harmed lungs and paler skin. On rare days, especially windy ones, sometimes the sun could manage to peer through the thick smoke, but today was not like that. Traveler had awoken early that morning, gathering his supplies and stuffing them deep in his pack. It was practically empty and it remained to be so as he had left a number of belongings back with his former group when he managed to slip away.

Traveler knew the other men would be on his tail at some point, though they would need to understand that his priorities lay elsewhere. A place beyond just surviving, but rather instinct - his son. His son was six, almost seven now, and was in the hands of a group that Traveler had been tracking for a few weeks now. His calloused hands traced over his map, which was marked with half-dead markers. He used red to mark areas he had already come across, and used blue to mark possible areas the group could be.

He was currently posted up along the tree line, far enough in that he could not be spotted from the road. The canopies of the trees offered decent shade, though it wasn't like he needed more. Traveler hummed softly to himself, deciding he would be on the move for a few days before he reached another possible area. He folded his map and shoved it in his pocket, swinging his beaten bag over his shoulders. Traveler had carried only a single weapon which was a revolver. He managed three bullets, unsure if he could find more ammo. He always steered away from any possible danger. Not because he couldn't handle it, but because he simply did not have the resources. Luckily for him, he had yet to come across anyone that he could not threaten and chase off.

Most survivors Traveler had come across were like him - alone and beaten, cold and hungry, lost and afraid. Traveler had a purpose but nobody would know that unless he informed them of such, but to them, he was about the same. But his sad eyes and calloused, rough skin told a bigger story - one that was compelling and heartbreaking - one that most would consider a tragedy written by a great writer. Traveler had been surviving off rationed portions of food he discovered in an old bunker, and was sparingly drinking his water in his canteen. He could find a clean creek somewhere, though his mind was focused else where so it did not even appeal to him at the moment.

Traveler walked slowly, glancing in the direction of the road every now and again. He would squint, ensuring nobody was around. He had very little strength to be fighting off someone, let alone the will. He was growing tired with each step, and he had yet to find a place that he could rest for a few hours. There were a number of collapsed buildings, though they were either burnt or rotting away due to the rain. Traveler noticed things in the weather patterns. When it rained, it rained hard and long, sometimes for days. It caused flooding in a number of places. The winters were harsh, more harsh than a normal winter for the region he was in. Spring and summer were about normal, though wildfires increased tremendously from the dryness of the sun, even if it wasn't as visible as it once was.

Traveler kept a small journal that he would take note of these things in, curious to know if there was anyone qualified enough to explain why and how these things were happening. He could remember when the bombs went off and the stillness of the earth. Billions were killed within the first weeks, the exposure of the nuclear air killing them. Before radios had quit working, people transmitted their ideas that those who had managed to survive were simply immune to the radiation due to their genetics. It did not make them special, and even if it did, living this life was by no means worth it. Traveler was only still here for one person, and that one person was not even around currently. That would always be the irony of it - he was not even living for himself.

---

After some time, Traveler had approaching a small barn. Parts of the ceiling had collapsed, though the inside seemed to be clear. It appeared untouched to Traveler, so he entered with caution regardless. He held his gun in his hand, pointing it around the corners first before looking. He had made his way to the back of the barn, when in the corner of one of the stalls, he was spooked.

An older man was laying there, blood coming from his ears and nose. His eyes were bloodshot and reddened. "Please," he groaned, his voice weak and hoarse. Traveler furrowed his eyebrows and breathed heavier now. He shook his head.

"What happened to you?" Traveler questioned.

The man gave no response. He reacher out towards him, his body stiff and hard, almost like he was already dead. Traveler could feel his stomach turn. While he had seen things that no human should a number of times, he still never quite grasped the gore and horror of what humans would become when their world fell. It all seemed fantastical, but no - this was in fact his life now.

Blood ran down the holes that had been mentioned before. Traveler inhaled deeply, seeing how the man struggled towards Traveler. He would open his mouth but no words came out, and all Traveler could assume was that he was going to ask him over and over to kill him. Traveler took a step back and looked to his right. Against the wood of the barn was a small pack who he assumed was the man's. Quickly, Traveler grabbed it and found a hunting knife. It had a dull blade, but wasting a bullet could attract God knows what or who.

Traveler got down to the man's level and placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him on his back. The man grasped Traveler's arm, though it was a weak one. Traveler held the knife in his other hand and brought it to his chest, saying a small prayer under his breath before he pushed it into the man's heart. He could feel the light grasp go limp, his arm thudding against the floor when his life fully left his body. Traveler pulled the knife out, wiping his blood in the old straw that was in the stall. He sighed softly, stuffing the knife in his waistband before he went through the man's things.

Traveler didn't find much. He found a map similar to his own of the area, dried nuts in a small bag, a random arrow, and wire cutters. He had stuffed everything into his own bag before heading on his own way, trying to clear his mind.

If that was even possible.

---

Time continued on, and Traveler felt himself grow more and more tired. He managed to stay as focused as he could, but just as he was about to turn onto the road to better seek a place to go, Traveler placed his foot down on a hidden wire beneath some brittle leaves. He heard a slight jingle, a clanking of sorts, before a heavy object made contact with his head.

Traveler hit the ground, feeling the warmth of blood on his head. He brought his hand to the affected area and winced, but before he knew it, Traveler had passed out. His head pounded and his vision went blurry (more than it already was), and he couldn't even manage to try and move to a secluded area. He cursed softly, his breathing slowing before everything went black.

The sun cut through the thin walls of Tess’s room, its heat relentless as it crawled across the floor, nudging her awake despite every desire to stay in the safe haze of sleep. The stifling air made the room feel like a furnace, and as Tess wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, she slowly rose, her muscles aching from another restless night. The building she called home—mostly tarp, thin wood, and whatever scraps could be found—was decent enough, but the heat had a way of seeping into every corner. The cold winters were more forgiving, though, and when the bitter winds howled, the structure offered shelter in the form of warmth and community. Today, however, it felt like a suffocating oven, the sun unyielding as it beat down on everything around them.

She could hear the sounds of life stirring beyond her room—voices, the shuffle of boots on dirt, the dull clink of tools and weapons being readied for another dangerous day. They were on the hunt. They had to be. The rival group that had been terrorizing them for weeks wasn’t going to stop unless they were made to. They’d stolen everything: food, clothing, weapons, and even children. Ruthless, desperate. It wasn’t just survival for them—it was destruction. Tess couldn't understand it, no matter how hard she tried.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t get the struggle. She and the others had lived through it. Food was scarce. Clean water had been hard to come by. Safety, a fleeting concept. But here, they had a semblance of normalcy. A place to sleep, work, even laugh at times. A makeshift home in a world torn apart. The walls and gates they’d built were more than physical barriers. They were symbols of their resistance. The life they had carved out was theirs to protect, and Tess would do anything to ensure it stayed that way.

Her father had been the mayor before everything collapsed, a leader of sorts in a time when there was no real guidance. He rallied those who still had the will to fight, pulling together a community of just over a hundred and fifty souls who wanted more than to just survive—they wanted to live again. Every person had a role to play, a skill to offer. Tess herself was a scout, her feet often leading her far from the safety of their camp, checking traps, inspecting the roads, searching for anything useful. It was tiring work, dangerous work, but she took pride in it.

Her mind wandered back to the early days after the bombs fell. The winters had been cruel, unseasonably long and harsher than anyone had expected. Her siblings were barely out of their infancy, and the nights had been colder than anyone could have prepared for. The summers that followed seemed endless, stretching into months that bled together, hot and dry. Now, half a year of sweltering heat had become the new normal. Time felt out of place—slower, longer, like the world was stuck in some kind of warped limbo.

---

It wasn’t long before Tess found herself standing outside, squinting into the harsh light as she waited for the small team of four she often went out with. Rue, the constant thorn in her side, was already there, his posture tense, as usual. He was difficult to work with, always testing her patience, always challenging her authority with his sharp tongue and impatience. He didn’t belong. He didn’t care to belong. He didn’t share their vision. He was the kind of man who would stir trouble if left unchecked.

But the others, they were good. They understood the importance of teamwork, of working together for the sake of survival. Tess couldn't help but be grateful for their willingness, their quiet strength.

“We ready?” Tess asked, forcing a smile as she tied her hair up, glancing at the crumpled note her father had given her. “My father wants us to check the south traps, make sure everything’s secure on the way there,” she added, the usual upbeat tone slipping from her voice as she fumbled for her Glock, checking the clip. The memory of their last trip to the southern route still haunted her. They had been ambushed by their rivals—guns, knives, no mercy. Three of their own had died that day.

Tess’s fingers tightened around the gun, a cold knot settling in her stomach. She wasn’t just worried about the traps anymore. She was worried about facing them again. The Highlanders had offered to help, offered peace. But Tess knew better than to believe in false promises. Their rivals had shown no care for who they hurt, for who they killed. Every day they went unchecked, they grew bolder. And they would pay for it.

Rue’s voice broke the silence, sharp and taunting. “Your father needs to get his act together, Teressa. We’ve been doing this for months and there’s nothing.” His eyes gleamed with his usual disdain, trying to push her buttons, to make her doubt. “We do what we’re told,” one of the girls piped up, trying to soothe the tension. “And look, there’s tracks.”

---

Tess raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small smile. They hadn’t been walking long, but already, the sight of the fresh tracks lifted her spirits, if only a little. The sun baked the back of her neck, but there was rain on the wind. She could smell it—fresh, cool, the promise of something different. It was a welcome thought, especially since the rain had become a reliable pattern, and Tess had long since learned to trust it.

---

By the time they reached the last trap, the group had done their rounds and checked most of the nearby areas. They were nearing the road that would loop back to their camp when Tess’s eyes caught something on the ground. Her heart skipped. A body. It was slumped just next to the trap, barely breathing, blood pooled beneath him.

“Guess the traps still work,” Tess muttered under her breath, a hint of dry humor in her voice despite the situation.

It didn’t take long for them to assess the man—alive, though barely. His ragged clothes and gaunt face told a story of someone who’d been living on the edge for far too long. They hauled him up carefully, Tess’s mind racing. He was from the rival group, that much was clear. But what was his purpose here? Why had they let him go so far without killing him?

---

By the time they made it back to camp, the man was placed in the small cell beneath the ground where they kept prisoners. Tess sat beside it, her fingers tapping anxiously against the stone, waiting for him to regain consciousness. It would be hours before they could get any answers. She had questions, too many to count, but she had to be patient.

His group—who were they? What did they want? Tess could already guess. They were ruthless. And Tess couldn’t afford to make the same mistakes again. She watched the man closely, her eyes narrowing as she prepared for the interrogation ahead. They would get the answers one way or another.

Traveler knew he would be found. Whoever set those traps would come by to check them, and that's why he was so worried about getting to cover before he passed out. He felt the rush of adrenaline and then nothing. He could feel as though he was being watched, and when he had barely come to, he heard some voices. He didn't feel the weight of his pack, nor the gun or knife. He had passed out again, but this time, he woke up in a cell.

The cell was cool, and based on the feeling of the concrete, they were underground. Traveler had been placed, leaning against the wall. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the minimal light before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was definitely concussed, and if not, he had a really bad headache. He groaned slightly, bringing a hand to his wound. There was blood all over in his hair and that stained his dirty hands. Traveler closed his eyes for a moment, his head pounding.

He looked around for a moment. The cell was confined but he had room to move. He had glanced towards his left when he noticed a woman. His eyes narrowed on her but he didn't say a single word. She appeared to be around Travelers own age, and was rather small. Traveler learned that others assumed he was much older because of the way he looked, so he was always taking them by surprise.

"Where's my stuff," Traveler finally said gruffly, his tone demanding as it echoed through the cells. "You knock out strangers and take their shit and lock them up like they're animals?" Traveler then taunted slightly, moving closer to the bars to get a closer look. While he had never been here in particular, there was something familiar about the woman when he got closer to see her features.

Traveler could recall his former group raising a place every few weeks. They were quite stocked in supplies, so the runs were always worth participating in. Traveler always went for the things that seemed out of reach as the group had a "finders keepers" policy. Very rarely were rations of supplies shared. Traveler could remember seeing a few dead bodies. He had gathered some cans of food, matches, cigarettes, a few bullets, and a hatchet. He could remember some screaming and blood being spilled. Traveler always avoided killing. His beliefs made him do so.

Traveler marked in his journal each time he killed someone, and that was four times since the end of the world. The first one was a young woman who had attacked him and he simply acted on instinct. The second was his son's mother - putting her out of her misery. The third was a man who had threatened his son, and the most recent being the old man. Traveler shook his head in disbelief.

"Nobody is coming for me," Traveler stated and looked at the girl. "Let me out and I'll trade you something. I got a good knife," he continued. While Traveler was not the type to plead for his life, he did not want to die here just because his former group of hooligans had trashed the place a few times. It had been a while since they last raided the place, at least when Traveler was around. Him being recognized more or less surprised him, but maybe they didn't - this could easily be some precaution protocol their group made.

"Listen. I'm looking for my son. In my pack there is a picture of me and him. Someone took him. You let me go and I'll be just as gone as he might be," Traveler spoke gently, gripping the bars of the cell. His eyes were threatened by genuine tears, though he fought them back. He gave a saddened look. Traveler was tired, and all he longed for was to be reunited with his son.

If God gave him no purpose before, then his son was it now.

Tess stood in front of the cell, her posture straight, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She studied the man inside, trying to decipher his every movement, his every expression. His disheveled appearance, the blood in his hair, the way he held himself—he was a stranger, and yet, there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. Maybe it was the look in his eyes. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it didn’t matter.

He was here, in her camp, and that made him a problem.

“I’m not here to hear your life story,” she said, her voice even, but sharp like a knife’s edge. “I don’t care if you’re a father, or a son, or someone’s brother. What I care about is this.” She pointed at the bars, her finger steady, her eyes never leaving his. “You were caught. You’re on our turf. And you’re from their group, aren’t you?”

Her voice rose a fraction with each word, cold and precise. “The same group that’s been raiding our people. The same ones who’ve stolen from us, killed our friends, and left us nothing but bodies in the dirt. So, don’t stand there and try to play the victim with me. Not here. Not with what’s left of my people.”

Tess stepped closer to the bars, her gaze hard, locking onto his. She could feel his eyes trying to pierce through her—testing her. Trying to find a crack in the wall she’d built around herself. But there wouldn’t be one. Not today.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like?” she continued, her voice low and cutting. “You think I don’t know the desperation that comes with losing everything? My team—my people—they’re dead because of your kind. I’ve seen their bodies, their blood staining the ground. I’ve held their hands while they bled out.” Her voice hardened, steel replacing the faint flicker of emotion. “So don’t try to make me feel sorry for you. You’re no different from the rest of them. You’re just another rat in the muck, trying to survive by whatever means necessary.”

Her eyes flickered down to his bloodied hands, the dirty, ragged clothes, and for just a moment—just a moment—she saw the flicker of something else. Guilt, maybe? Sincerity? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t let herself care. Not now. Not when there was too much at stake.

“You’re going to have to earn my trust,” Tess said, the words cutting through the air like a blade. “You’re a prisoner, and you’re going to stay one until you prove you’re not just another threat. I’m not letting you go because you’ve got a sob story or a cute little excuse about your son.”

Her voice dropped, quieter now, but no less firm. “I’ve lost too many people to be fooled by that. And I don’t have the luxury of giving second chances. You want to get out of here? You want to walk free again? You’re going to have to show me you’re worth the risk.”

Tess stared at him for a moment, her expression cold as stone. She could see the struggle in his eyes—the uncertainty, the desperation. But it didn’t matter. The moment he was caught in their trap, his fate was sealed, and the rules were simple. There was no mercy for people like him. Not unless they gave a damn good reason to believe they were different.

But as she stood there, she felt a strange weight on her chest, a nagging pull in her gut. His story, his desperation, it felt too real. Too human.

Tess took a slow breath, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. She knew what it was like to be desperate, to fight for something when everything else had been stripped away. She’d seen people break under the weight of that loss—and she’d seen what it turned them into.

“You’re right about one thing,” she said quietly, her tone gentler than before. “I get the pain. I get the fight to survive, even when it feels like everything’s stacked against you.” She looked at him, her eyes softening just a little. “But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, not with everything that’s happened.”

She stepped back, giving him space, her hands unconsciously uncrossing as she stood there. “I wish I could just take you at your word. I really do. But I can’t risk it. Not when I’ve already lost so much. Not when the people I care about are depending on me.”

Her voice was quiet, but firm, as she took one last look at him before turning toward the door. “If you really want out of here, if you’re truly different from the rest of them, you’ll have to prove it. I can’t do that for you.”

Tess reached for the door handle, her hand hesitating just for a moment before she finally turned it. “I’m not your enemy, not unless you make me one. But right now, I need you to understand. I’m not the one who’ll decide if you leave this cell. You will.”

The woman was obviously not pleased with Traveler being there. He sighed, defeated, knowing that trying to pry his way out of here would be difficult and most likely not worth the effort. He listened to her sharp tone - she was hurt. Traveler knew the group he ran with was not the kind of group you'd want to encounter, let alone get raided by. But when she mentioned that he was from their group, Traveler shook his head.

"I left to find my son. I haven't been with them for months," Traveler stated, his tone secure and honest. His eyes were engaged in hers, holding the uncomfortable eye contact to make a point. "Nor do I have intention of rekindling my relation with them," Traveler then added, his eyes slightly narrowing.

"I am not begging for forgiveness. I didn't kill anyone that day but I was there and I stole. But face it - we're all victims. This is what we do to survive now. Trust me, it's not enjoyable," Traveler replied. He sighed deeply, his head continuing to pound. He figured asking for something to soothe the pain would not be in good timing, so instead his face appeared to be discomforted and painful.

Traveler felt her ice cold voice become stern with her next words. He nodded, almost like an agreement. Traveler wasn't going to continue spilling his stories to her to try and gain sympathy. That was never his intention in the first place, however. He was just as human as anyone else, and humanity in a broken world felt so rare to come by anymore. Sure, he had been desensitized to things, but that didn't make it any easier. "Isn't that what we're all doing? Surviving by any means?" Traveler finally spoke. While he understood her words and where she was coming from, Traveler had no true sense of losing someone. His former lover he had to end for her own sake, and his son... That was about the only thing he cared about was finding him. Everything and everyone else he could care less about. He would do anything to get him back.

"You let me out of here first and I can prove that to you. I can show you things, lady," Traveler said, trying to be as forward as he could without disrespecting her. He was in fact a prisoner - in a cell and all. He watched her intently, seeing how while she was authoritative, she was no leader. Respected maybe, but there was something about her that made Traveler believe she was not the one calling the major shots.

"Everything that has happened has led us here. This is fate. Part of our destiny. I'm not asking forgiveness, I am asking you believe me," Traveler had softened his tone the same way she had. She had been as understanding as she could, seeing that Traveler could easily be killed for being associated with the group. But she was giving him a chance, and he internally thanked her for that.

"Okay, okay," Traveler paused, thinking for a moment. "How do I prove this to you? I can hunt, fish, track, and scout. I could show you areas where they could be. We had patterns," Traveler informed her. He saw her getting close to the door.

"Before you go, go into my pack. Find a map. I will show you everything I know," Traveler offered. He knew this would take time, but he had to find a way for them to believe him. He sighed softly, not saying anything else. He simply looked at her, almost like his eyes were begging for him. Traveler felt pathetic in a way. He should have been more careful considering that was uncharted land for him, but he figured he wasn't this close to the facility the woman was from.

Traveler had rose to his feet, looking at the woman. His small yet broad frame was hidden beneath the rags of clothing. He tapped his fingers against the cold metal bars. "Can I ask one thing? Something for what your trap did," he requested softly, slightly hopefully she would oblige.

Tess stood in front of the cell, her posture stiff, arms crossed tightly as her eyes remained fixed on the man inside. Her heart was a mess of conflicting thoughts, each one battling against the other. He was so calm, so certain of his words, but the cold knot in her stomach wouldn't let her forget the danger he could pose. It was hard to believe someone from his group could have any good intentions.

But still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about him. Was he telling the truth? Was he really no longer with them?

Her hand gripped the cold metal bars, the chill of them sinking into her skin. “I can’t promise you anything,” she said, her voice steady but strained, keeping her gaze on him. “I’ll have to run this by my father and the others. This isn’t my decision to make alone.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she continued. “But I’ll bring up your offer. I’ll tell them everything you said. All of it.”

Tess took a deep breath, the uncertainty settling in her chest like a stone. She couldn't afford to be too trusting. Not yet. Not after the way things had gone with her team. Not after losing three of them on that last mission.

“But…” Tess hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to the ground before meeting his again. “I don’t trust you. Not yet. And I don’t trust your story. You may have left them, but you were still with them when you raided my group. You were with them when they killed my team.”

She let the words sink in before she continued. “But… let's the map. See what you’ve got,” Tess said, her tone softening just slightly. “I’ll run it by my father. If he agrees, maybe we can figure out a way to work together. But that’s all I can promise you. Don’t get your hopes up.”

With that, Tess grabbed his pack from the side of the cell, the fabric feeling rough under her fingers. As she rummaged through it, searching for the map, her thoughts lingered. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t let herself look at him.

Finally, she found it—the map he’d mentioned. She carefully unfolded it, her eyes scanning the markings before walking over to him cautiously. They'd dissarmed him when they'd found him, but she couldn't trust him not to ring her neck through the bars. She held it too him, although kept him at arms length.

For a moment, she stayed there, staring at the man, her breath slow and steady. Then she stepped back toward the door, but before she could leave, she heard his voice. Asking for something, something more.

"Our trap?" She asked, her voice softening slightly, although scanning him over she found herself pitying him more tha she thought. What their trap did? They'd patched him up a little, but only enough to keep him alive, really. Not comfortable. Her head tilted, her brows pinching together curiously. "Shoot," she eventually hummed, her tone a little lighter.

“Oh,” she said, her voice quieter than before. “I never got your name. Who are you?”

He hadn’t given it to her yet, and something in the back of her mind told her she needed to know. Trust didn’t come easily in this world, and she had learned the hard way that you needed to know who you were dealing with.

She waited, her eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity, then pouted thoughtfully. She didn't want to give him her name. If he got out, and told them who to look for, they'd know exactly who she was. "They call me Monkey," she chirped.

Traveler nodded at the mention of others. He respected them trying to keep democracy alive, but what had they ever seen? Had they witnessed a half eaten man and bones scattered around a fire like a ritual? Or small children getting killed because they were "more mouths to feed"? Or a dying man or woman pleading for their lives to be taken from them? Humanity was gone, and that all started when the government fell. Traveler couldn't exactly recall the sequence of events, but it was something along the lines of the bombs destroying everything, billions dying in weeks, a few government officials and agencies offering as much aide as they could, some radio stations still functioning.... and then nothing. Word got out that the CDC members had harmed themselves, but others considered that the lunatics without any restraint by law anymore got their hands on them. Traveler didn't know what to believe, so he would always keep his opinions to himself and remain silent in any debate. It didn't matter any more. All the once was, was gone. Nothing or nobody could possibly change that now.

Traveler nodded again when she said she would mention everything he said. "You're not making a mistake." His tone was reassuring and truthful, not trying to be convincing but was rather sincere and honest. He had zero interest in trying to screw over this group. After all, they did nothing to him aside from their job and trying to survive while Traveler was in that group. A few of those men - the ones like Traveler - were reluctant and he witnessed first hand where that got you. He could remember their rotting teeth, battered clothes, stained hands from blood, and their weapons always being in their hands. Traveler was sure they had been plotting against him before he left, and they could be tracking him. He noticed they were primal like that - a predator hunting its lost prey.

Regardless, Traveler would not mention it. He doubted their ability. He figured a main reason he was left alive was because Traveler could in fact read a map and know what direction he was facing while they would just run rampant and hope for the best. Their impulsiveness, although stupid, made it so you couldn't expect their next move. It was a decent strategy, and it did get them this far in a collapsed society.

"You can show him the map and the knife. Take it as an offering and one less weapon on me," Traveler stated. He swallowed slightly. Her reluctance was understandable, but he had not been hostile the entire time. Obviously riding with a crew like his former one did not paint him in a good light, but maybe her recognition of him could help her remember that Traveler was in and out and only took things. He was not destructive nor harmful - simply doing what he could. But for now, she would only have his word and the possibility of trust.

Traveler watched as she rummaged through his things. Not that there was much to find as the only real important thing had been his journal, the bit of food he managed to find, the gun which was nowhere to be found, and the knife. Everything else he had just to have, hopeful it could be useful later on. He watched her hold the map out to him.

"The red are areas I've already come by. The blue markings are areas I haven't," he spoke. He didn't move, knowing she didn't want to be close to him in the first place. Traveler still didn't mention anything of either group. In reality, the blue areas were places that those who had his son could be, though still unexplored so he wasn't exactly lying. "I've no marks for where my old group could be, but I know the areas. I can show you if you want," Traveler then added. He sighed softly. "We had routine areas that we would stay at for some weeks and then move, but we wandered a lot," he continued on, explaining himself. "I doubt they've changed any," Traveler said, wrapping his hands around the bars of the cell subconsciously and pointing to the map while he spoke.

Traveler gave an unsure laugh when she inquired about the trap. "Advil, anything. Maybe an ice pack," he suggested, offering a half smile. There seemed to be less tension, but Traveler would do as he was told - not get his hopes up.

"Traveler," he stated. He nodded when she introduced herself. "Monkey," he repeated softly. "It's nice to meet you granted the circumstance," he said lightly, offering a hand, that if she took, he would have a light grip to ease her mind. Traveler didn't have the strength to attack her even if he wanted to, but he figured the gesture could also be seen that way.

Traveler could admire Monkey in a way. She was considerate but also bearing, and was obviously some sort of important person. Perhaps a second in command of sorts, as she had mentioned her father and others. Or maybe they ran this place with a council-like voice rather than just one, but he couldn't imagine some shit for brains wouldn't want to rise up against that. Everyone wanted some sort of power today. It was why you never saw large civilizations like this one standing, but Traveler supposed they were doing something right as this one was still standing.