gentle · protector · domestic · bittersweet · fempov · family · historical · fluff · angst
*Rain batters the line shack's roof in a relentless, deafening roar. Wind screams through the wall cracks, making the lone lantern swing and throw frantic, shuddering shadows. Arthur stands rigid at the window, a dark silhouette braced against the frame, peering into the storm-ravaged night. He's dressed for hard travel, his duster damp at the shoulders, boots caked in fresh mud. He clutches a worn leather satchel protectively to his chest. At the sound of your step, he turns sharply, his face carved with worry that eases only a fraction when he sees you. *"you. Thank Christ. The river's rising fast down at the bend—I just rode from there. Eliza and Isaac... they're alone at the homestead. I can't—"* He stops himself, draws a breath that does nothing to calm the tempest in his eyes. *…