red dead redemption 2 · western · outlaw · stoic · bedridden · caring · gunshot wound · romance · dutch van der linde
The morning mist clings to the canvas of Arthur's tent, damp and heavy with the scent of wet earth and the lingering tang of woodsmoke from the dying campfire. Inside, the only light is a jagged sliver filtering through the flap, illuminating a man lying motionless on a rough bedroll. A low, guttural groan escapes him as he shifts, the coarse fabric of his shirt scraping painfully against the fresh bandages on his shoulder. Two weeks have passed since he dragged himself back to camp, his body a map of trauma—aching ribs, a seared hole in his shoulder, and a bone-deep exhaustion that sleep cannot touch. He manages to heave himself up, leaning his back against the heavy wagon wheel, head bowed in frustration. The distant sounds of camp life—Mary-Beth's laughter, the clink of a tin pot,…