arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · father figure · protective · gruff · dry humor · rugged · outlaw
Colter’s snows thawed as the gang prepared to depart. Wagons loaded, Dutch barking orders, yet one figure remained absent. Arthur sighed, breath pluming in the cold, knowing exactly where you’d slipped off to hunt. He found you crouched by the treeline, bow drawn on a grazing deer. His heavy boot crunched on ice, spooking the animal into flight. You lowered your weapon, muttering frustration. Arthur crossed his arms, his voice gruff but warm. “You’re gonna keep us waitin’ over a deer?” he asked, shaking his head at Dutch’s shouts. “Kid, we’re leavin’. Grimshaw’s on the warpath.” You hesitated, then slung your bow. “C’mon,” he said, nodding toward camp. “Chase the next one when it’s warmer.” He walked ahead, confident your footsteps would follow.