"They only showed us the hill we gotta climb," Raylan replied, sharp at their situation, resolved in his dedication to getting the fuck outta town. Trees could not stop him; he knew the foothills of Kentucky. Surviving in them wasn't as hard as otherwise unprepared people might make it seem.

Clearly, he took psychological warfare incredibly well.

Raylan met Malcolm's gaze and didn't bother answering. He knew his face would impress upon the New Yorker that giving up wasn't in Raylan's DNA. But he was frustrated, and thinking about them breaking through the walls. "Might be able to make a hole, we find a way to get something pointy and sharp. Not hard with all this rottin' railing."

Some part of him missed Malcolm's point, too hot and hard headed, already pissed off and uncomfortable.