Huh. So the girl's assuming that I've got a gun. All things considered, of the many redneck traits that people generally attach to my person, gun-wielding is probably one of the most helpful on a practical level. While I can't exactly say that what I have for this girl is trust, I do believe that she's not going to go all Samara on me without some real good reason, so I just wave for her to follow and trek through the cold (yes, the cold, stupid snow and stupid winter) toward the general direction of my hut.

"Ain't got a gun," I tell her honestly, although I flip her knife around in my hand a couple of times just to show that even without a gun, it isn't exactly like I'm hopeless. "So I haven't shot 'im. Haven't harmed a hair on that hairy pig's behind. Which is why we're huntin' now, see, 'cause maybe I just can't do it on my own."