They depart for the University of Eastern Colorado; what should be the final stretch of their journey. For the first couple of miles Ellie keeps her hands gripped on the fabric of Joel's plaid shirt, enduring the occasional bump or poke from the junk in his backpack just to reassure herself that he isn't suddenly going to dump her in the middle of the road, or turn the horse around after changing his mind about foisting her off on Tommy.

He doesn't, of course, while the miles continue to slip by. Joel offers only his stiff back and an awkward silence to answer her unspoken questions.

Why did you change your mind? She stares at the back of his head, noticing for the first time how much grey really peppers the black.

"What's his name?" She asks instead. She regrets breaking the silence almost immediately. He turns his head towards her and only answers after a long moment, as though coming back from somewhere far away.

"What?"

"His name," she repeats, and gestures down to the horse for good measure.

"I, uh," Joel follows her gesture from the corner of his eye, and shrugs as he turns back ahead.

"I didn't ask." He admits, his voice quieter than usual.

"Oh." Silence falls between them again, and she fumbles for some way to fill it. She almost reaches for the photo in her backpack, but she knows it's too soon, way too soon. She remembers mighty thin ice and you're not my daughter like they were blows and she shies away from them, the hurt too raw to even consider.

She lets the silence sink in and dozes off, ignoring the jab of something against her cheek.

"Ellie." A rumble against her ear more than his voice itself rouses her.

"Mm?" She straightens up, stifling a yawn, and finds herself staring at a dark stretch of road ahead and the gentle bob of the horse's head, rather than a dusty backpack. She lifts her eyes, but Joel doesn't lower his gaze from the road ahead to look at her.

"Warn me next time, you near fell straight off the horse." His tone is gentle instead of scolding like the words are meant to be.

"Callus." She doesn't apologize.

"What?" This time he does look at her, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"The horse, his name's Callus."

"Right," He looks like he might ask more, but the way he can't quite meet her gaze means he's less talkative than usual. She's been asleep for longer than she thought because it's moonlight on his face and the air's cold and he hasn't told her to move, yet, so she doesn't.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"In the diary—" She faulters for a moment, but presses on, pushes past the doubt. "That girl, whoever she was, she said she was getting a horse for her birthday."

It's a long moment before Joel replies, and Ellie holds her breath through most of it.

"Is that so."

"Do you think…" She trails off.

"It your birthday?" He gets that far off look on his face again, and a flick of his eyes to the watch tells her everything that Maria mentioned was true.

"No," She says quickly, "But I mean, when it is, do you think I could…?"

"He's all yours, kiddo. See if I can't find a bow for him, an' everything." There's not much joy in his face as she'd like, but the effort is there, and he even smiles a bit—not at her—but it feels like a victory all the same.

"Okay." She reaches down to pat Callus' neck.

"Hear that boy?" The horse only flicks an ear in her direction, but she counts it as acknowledgement, then returns her eyes to Joel.

"Need me to move?"

It's another long moment before he replies. "You rest up, it's gonna be a long couple of days before we get where we're goin'."

"Sure?" When all he answers with is a grunt of confirmation, she waits another moment for him to change his mind, but he doesn't.

The next time she opens her eyes it's to the sun coming up over the trees, and Joel rolls his shoulders, grimacing. He reins Callus to a stop and nods his head at her.

"Go on, scooch, we're goin' to pick up the pace, if you're awake." She dismounts stiffly, and accepts the hand up Joel offers, settling in behind him. This time, her hands grip the backpack so she doesn't have to deal with the contents poking her all the time.

"You good?" He poses the same phrase and she hesitates for a beat, and when she replies it's with more relief than she's felt in a long time.

"I'm good."