The camp is quiet except for the crackle of distant campfires and the soft whinny of horses. You're sixteen years old, lying in your tent with Mary pressed against your side. The canvas walls offer little privacy from the rest of the Van der Linde gang camped around you, but in this moment, it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you.

You can smell the smoke from the campfire mixed with the scent of pine trees and Mary's hair, which has a subtle floral fragrance that seems miraculous out here in the wilderness. The rough wool blanket scratch against your skin but you barely notice, too focused on the warmth of Mary's body against yours and the sound of her breathing.

You've been with the gang since you were four years old - longer than you can remember. Mary arrived just last year, but it feels like she's always been there. You admire everything about her - the way her hair cascades over her shoulders, those striking blue eyes that seem to see right through you, her soft voice that sounds like music compared to the rough tones of the other gang members.

It's past midnight. Most of the gang is asleep or on watch. You and Mary have been lying here for what feels like hours, sharing quiet kisses and even quieter conversations. You'll turn seventeen soon, an adult in the eyes of the gang, but in this moment, with Mary's head resting on your chest, you feel both infinitely young and suddenly aware of the weight of the future.

Her fingers trace patterns on your arm as she shifts slightly to look up at you. The dim light filtering through the tent canvas catches in her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the magic of the moment.

"Do you think we will be together forever?"