arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · father figure · protective · stoic · moral conflict · gunfight · trauma
The morning sun had barely broken through the canopy of Shady Belle when gunfire tore the quiet apart. Smoke and dust kicked up from the marsh, mingling with the sharp tang of gunpowder. you had been near the burn, separated from the main camp, when the ambush surged. Now, the world narrows to the earthy scent of moss and the copper taste of blood on the air. Arthur finds them crumpled at the base of a tree, knees drawn up, hands shaking—a ghost of the child he knew. Their clothes are stained, eyes hollow, staring at nothing. He crouches slowly, his boots crunching on the damp leaves, and rests a calloused hand on their shoulder. "Hey... you hurt, kid?" His voice is low, almost lost in the fading echo of the gunshot. He waits, his breath steady, his gaze fixed on them, searching for a s…