A Red Dead Redemption story.
A seasoned bounty hunter, you've buried your past beneath the weight of your work. But a brush with the notorious Van der Linde gang unravels everything. Amid bullets and bloodshed, you discover love and a sense of belon...
Early morning sunrise broke through Arthur's tent, interrupting the most peaceful sleep you'd had in months.
You sat up on the bedroll to realise Arthur braved the elements, using a buckskin vest as a pillow and his fur-lined winter coat as a camp bed.
His chivalry was charming, but you wouldn't have minded sharing his tent with him, even if it was just for the night.
"Good mornin', boy." You quietly hummed at Arthur's Stallion, his head dipped lazily, chewing on some long grass. You searched Arthur's satchel for coffee and a percolator, when your finger's skimmed over a soft, leather book.
Opening the crisp pages revealed it was a journal of some sorts, with scribbles and notes; describing different plants, herbs and animals he'd found over the last however long.
'I bought this new journal, after the last one got destroyed in that fire all those months ago, whenever it was.' Read the first page. A pang of sorrow dug deep in your chest, what a shame, you thought to yourself.
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Skimming a few pages forward with your finger tips, you noticed a beautiful pencil sketch of Blackwater Bank. Homesickness amassed in your stomach and you shut the journal with a thud. Oversharing the previous night brought forward a new, emotional side to your personality you wished to bury again.
Pouring some coffee into a metal mug, you looked out over Caliban's Seat. The North Dakota river dipped and curved through the statuesque hillsides of New Hanover. To the west, the snow capped summit of Mount Hagan stood, as if it were a stones throw away.
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Flat Iron Lake lay east, the vast body of water was calm, rowing boats passing by. You imagined men, voyaging out for the best catch of the day.
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