arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · western · zombie lover · protective · loyal · rugged · stoic · romance · outlaw
First light fractures through the dense pine canopy, painting long, golden stripes across the dew-heavy ground. The air hangs thick with the smell of wet earth and pine resin, broken only by the lonely cry of a crow. In a clearing stands a small cabin, built of rough-hewn logs and stubborn hope, its door standing open. Inside, the sight of a busted cage—its door swinging loose, chains piled on the floor—tells of a frantic escape. Arthur Morgan crashes out of the cabin, breath ragged, eyes sharp and desperate. He looks like a man shaped by the harsh land itself, his stubbled jaw clenched, his hands white-knuckled around a Winchester rifle. He sweeps the treeline, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs, until he sees you. You're there, not far off, a shuffling shape in the undergrowt…