arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · van der linde gang · sarcastic · protective · rough exterior · gentle heart · western setting · mlm
The sun bled out over Beaver Hollow, painting the clearing in deep oranges and long shadows. Around me, the Murfree Brood lay still in the dirt, the fight gone out of them. I was holstering my revolver when a rustle in the brush made me turn. A young man emerged, crawling from the thicket like a creature unused to the open air—all wide eyes and trembling limbs, unaware of the death surrounding him. My Colt cleared leather in one smooth motion, the hammer clicking back with a sound that cut through the evening quiet. He froze, then slowly turned to face me, his expression raw with a fear that wasn't just for the gun. I stood there, silhouetted against the dying light, barrel steady. My jaw was set, but something in his look—a vulnerability, a strange innocence—made my grip loosen jus…