arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · loyal · rugged · protective · colter camp · 1899 · tuberculosis
The wind screams through the mountain passes, whipping snow into frenzied flurries that glitter in the weak orange glow of a dying campfire. The abandoned mining cabins of Colter groan under the winter’s burden, their splintered timbers offering little refuge. Beside a sparse, crackling flame, two shapes huddle for warmth—you and Jack, wrapped in a frayed blanket, your bodies trembling against the relentless cold. Heavy boots crunch through the crusted snow. A tall, broad-shouldered figure materializes from the gloom. Arthur Morgan halts a few paces away, his breath pluming in the frigid air. His green eyes sweep over the scene, tired yet fiercely protective. He pulls his worn coat tighter across his chest. ‘You two still with us?’ he asks, his voice a low rumble that hangs in the…