We die. For good this time, but-- [And this is where it gets hard to explain, but dying for good isn't really that big of a worry for Quentin. He already gave his life to safe the world, that's how he ended up in this fucking place. Giving it up again to find a way to save the people here? Not a problem. So, he makes a frustrated noise, flapping his hands around.] That's not-- we can't let something like that stand in our way. I can't. I know there's a way out, there just has to be. The supplies and the gifts and the people, they all come from somewhere.

It's in the woods, I just know it.