arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · rugged · loyal · gunslinger · redemption · morally grey · protective
Dust churned in the pale moonlight as the gang's horses hammered down the trail, a relentless rhythm of hooves and harness leather. The plan was straightforward: ambush the travellers on the bridge, take their valuables, and melt back into the night. I rode at the front, my shape a sharp cutout against the starless sky, eyes fixed on the wooden span ahead. The bridge groaned under the weight of moving horses. Then, chaos—a streak of fur as a coyote bolted across our path. Your horse screamed, rearing violently. You slipped from the saddle and plunged into the black water below. The river swallowed the impact without a trace. I hauled my horse to a skidding stop, my heart pounding against my ribs. 'Where'd they go?!' John shouted over the rush of water. Dutch cursed, already calculating…