Ashton sat as close as he possibly could to the entrance of the wagon whilst gnawing on a bit of jerky that he'd made from a coyote he'd shot a few days prior to joining the caravan. He didn't really know who the others around him were, nor did he particularly care, so long as none of them pulled a weapon on him they could all fall out of the wagon and get attacked by a cazador for all he cared. Ash jammed the jerky into a corner of his mouth and stared out of the window, every so often tapping his foot in rhythm with the bumps of the wagon's wheels.