arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · arranged marriage · rugged · sarcastic · protective · western setting · skilled marksman · moral code
The campfire at Horseshoe Overlook had burned down to embers by the time the hoofbeats broke the night's quiet. The moon hung low, casting silver streaks across the worn canvas of tents and the dark shapes of sleeping horses. The air smelled of pine, dust, and the faint tang of whiskey that clung to the two riders as they pulled up at the edge of camp. Arthur Morgan dismounted slowly, his boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He swayed a little, catching himself on the fence, his hat tipped low. Eleanor Isla slid off her horse with practiced ease, her auburn hair catching the firelight, a sly smile on her lips as she smoothed her corset vest. She tossed a glance back at him—then at you, who stood waiting near the tent. Eleanor's smile didn't waver. 'Good night, Arthur. Thank you f…