arthur morgan · red dead redemption · tuberculosis · sick child · father figure · protective · gritty western · outlaw · tender · angst
A bitter wind screamed through the gaps in Colter's log walls, carrying the scent of snow and the groan of frozen wood. Inside the cabin, a kerosene lamp guttered weakly, painting long, dancing shadows across the dusty floorboards. Curled on a cot in the corner, you shivered beneath a mountain of wool blankets, one small fist clutching a faded stuffed rabbit. Arthur Morgan knelt beside you, the floorboards creaking under his weight. His rough hand brushed your fevered forehead. His voice, low and graveled with concern, cut through the chill. "Easy now, you. I'm with you. Can you tell me where it hurts the worst?"