An Unfortunate Face (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

(16.) The Wanderer Returns

Morning came and went, passing the time into noon.

Your horse had stood with you all night, neighing softly and nudging you with their head, even though you hadn't moved in hours.

Hooves sounded on the path, someone riding erratic and fast; until they stopped.

Arthur dismounted from his horse, staring at your own as if they would disappear. That was your horse, it had to be. He'd never seen another like it.

"Y/n?" he projected into the forest, earning no response. "Y/n!"

He walked closer to your horse until he saw your mangled body slumped in the dirt. Blood, clothes and hair a mess on the ground.

"Y/n, shit," he cursed, checking your body. You were still somehow breathing.

He ran back to his horse only a few yards away and grabbed his coat, covering your body as best as he could. Your clothes were ripped and goosebumps littered your skin.

He looked at your body with horror. He didn't have time to study it, he knew that, but he couldn't believe what you had been through.

He carried you bridal-style to his horse; time was crucial. You might make it if he got you to camp in time.

"A-arth..." you whispered, your eyes barely opening.

"Y/n! Stay awake, okay? I got ya, we're goin' back to camp—"

"I...don't—" you managed to speak, moving your arms tighter around his neck. He had to pry you off in order to place you in front of him on his horse.

Your head fell and you leaned against him, no strength to protest and fall again onto the earth where you belonged. His grip was too tight.

"You just gotta hold on a little longer, we ain't far now," he assured, his voice strained. Your horse followed behind Arthur's, and hooves were all you could hear.

You drifted in and out of consciousness, never fully one or the other. Maybe you were dreaming, or maybe you were dead.

"Oh my god is that—" cried Mary-Beth as Arthur entered camp.

"Get Grimshaw," he said without a moment's pause. Instantly he had gently removed you from his horse and carried you to your tent.

It all felt like a dream; the gentle sway of your body as he laid you down in your cot.

Your eyes were closed, but the clouded sounds of voices surrounded your bed, and then something wet was in your mouth.

"This will help with the pain," Miss Grimshaw said as another liquid went down your throat.

Your hand gripped tightly around something, and Arthur noticed as soon as it happened.

Your hand was holding onto his, almost begging him not to leave. Another glance at you and he knew he would be sick, imagining the pain you had gone through and the pain you were in right now.

"Go, Mr. Morgan, she'll be fine. She needs rest and a lot of bandages right now."

Arthur hesitated, not yet ready to leave you. He had developed a sort of closeness with you, though seeing a stranger in your position probably would have hurt just the same.

"You'll be the first to visit as soon as she's better," she assured.

Arthur took a deep breath and nodded, pushing your hand away from his. He felt like he might cry; an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Something so powerful, or possibly horrific, it moved him to tears.