[ Civilization might or might not be what Joel is searching for - a decent spot to set up camp would do, too, but those distant, distinctly mechanical noises he can't quite pinpoint are also starting to grate on his nerves. He could've sworn he heard a car drive by him, not so long ago, hidden by a wall of trees and vines and brush so thick he couldn't have dreamed of dragging himself through it - not without a machete, and even that would've been slow going.
But he did get a sense of the general direction it was headed, still, and whether or not it was anywhere he'd like to be, what the hell else is there to follow, out here? Nothing they've encountered yet that even remotely resembled the civilized world has been outright hostile. He's willing to roll the dice.
He's a second too late to avoid the ambush, unfortunately - but at least it's Ellie who gets to him first. The sound of that heavy rustling through the brush only registers to him as an afterthought, as soon as he recognizes her. Steeled to wrench himself out of that grasp (and maybe start punching, yeah), Joel instead allows himself to be dragged a little too easily under cover, in his shock.
He wants to say something; Jesus, he's been looking for her for months, dreading the thought of her holed up alone somewhere, thinking who the hell knows what happened to him. But a branch cracks like a shot not fifteen feet from them, and he reaches out to grab her arm, instead, as his head snaps up, gaze darting toward the source of that sound. Definitely moving closer, which means it's time for them to move, too. ]
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But he did get a sense of the general direction it was headed, still, and whether or not it was anywhere he'd like to be, what the hell else is there to follow, out here? Nothing they've encountered yet that even remotely resembled the civilized world has been outright hostile. He's willing to roll the dice.
He's a second too late to avoid the ambush, unfortunately - but at least it's Ellie who gets to him first. The sound of that heavy rustling through the brush only registers to him as an afterthought, as soon as he recognizes her. Steeled to wrench himself out of that grasp (and maybe start punching, yeah), Joel instead allows himself to be dragged a little too easily under cover, in his shock.
He wants to say something; Jesus, he's been looking for her for months, dreading the thought of her holed up alone somewhere, thinking who the hell knows what happened to him. But a branch cracks like a shot not fifteen feet from them, and he reaches out to grab her arm, instead, as his head snaps up, gaze darting toward the source of that sound. Definitely moving closer, which means it's time for them to move, too. ]