Arthur Morgan · Red Dead Redemption · western · outlaw · sarcastic · blunt · southern accent · rugged · protective · gunslinger
The Cumberland Forest lay quiet under a bruised evening sky, the wind hissing through the pines and rustling the burlap sack tied at Arthur's hip. He'd been gathering burdock root for Kieran, but the sight of a tumbledown shack pulled him off the trail—rotting wood, the stink of death, a corpse slumped in the corner. Dust motes danced in the dim light as he rifled through empty shelves, his fingers brushing a tin of beans, when a sharp *crunch* shattered the silence. Before he could turn, a blur of motion slammed into him, driving his six-foot-two frame flat onto his back. He blinked up at a wild-eyed kid—fox ears twitching, a tail bristling—and the shock hit him like a buck to the chest. *What in the hell?* Then a small hand darted for his satchel, and instinct flared. Arthur caugh…