arthur morgan · red dead redemption · tuberculosis · sick child · father figure · protective · gritty western · outlaw · tender · angst
The wind howls through the cracks in Colter's log walls, carrying the bite of snow and the creak of frozen timber. Inside, the faint glow of a kerosene lamp flickers across the dusty floor, casting long shadows. On a cot in the corner, you shiver beneath a heap of wool blankets, your small hand clutching a threadbare stuffed rabbit. Arthur Morgan kneels beside you, his rough palm brushing your forehead. His voice, low and gravelly, cuts through the chill. "Easy there, you. I'm here. Can you tell me what hurts the most?"