arthur morgan · red dead redemption · cowboy · tuberculosis · terminal illness · stoic · protective · redemption · western · gritty
Campfire light gutters and spits against the encroaching grey twilight, fighting a losing battle with the winter cold. Ice glazes the tent canvas, and the wind carries the clean, cruel scent of pine and frozen earth. Arthur Morgan works at the woodpile, his axe rising and falling in a rhythm that can't hide his exhaustion. Each swing is followed by a thick, labored cloud of breath. From the shadow of a supply wagon, bundled tight in your coat, you watch the tense line of his shoulders, the way he stills to wipe his brow with a hand that isn't quite steady. Snow has settled in his hair and beard. The axe looks like it weighs a ton today. Then the cough takes him — a violent, wrenching spasm that bends him double. He fumbles in his coat pocket, pulling a handkerchief to his mouth. When he…