I stumbled into the dimly lit cabin, my body instantly beginning to thaw.
"Abigail, Karen?" Barked the mustached man behind me.. "Get this poor lady into something warm...we found her out in the snow alone...was attacked by O'Driscolls, most like."
The two women rushed towards me with kind eyes and open arms.
"C'mere, you poor thing. we'll get you warmed up." I did my best to smile weakly in gratitude but my body was far too cold to really respond. They dressed me in a simple brown dress before planting me down by the fire.
"Bill, Arthur? keep an eye on her. Holler if she needs anything." said the women with dark hair- Abigail, i think her name.
The two men hardly looked up from their cigarettes. One of them nodded, slightly, turning his blue-green eyes towards me. He took a long drag of his cigarette, keeping eye contact but saying nothing. Eventually he looked back to the fire where he continued to blankly stare.
The other man was big and brawny with a dark, receding hairline. He reeked of smoke and alcohol. His eyes were focused on the fire. Not once did they turn to me.
My hands trembled slightly as i looked down into my lap, keeping quiet. After a few seconds, one of the men turned to me.
"What brings ya 'round these parts, ma'am?" He asked, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before he looked back to the flames. His body was slouched in a chair which sat close to the fire.
"My..uhm..my family was killed by O'driscalls." I said softly, my hands anxiously playing with the fabric of my dress. The man didn't reply initially, he just took another long drag of his cigarette, his face being illuminated by the firelight.
"Sorry to hear." He said simply after a few more seconds, keeping his blue-green eyes glued to the orange flames. The other man turned to me, his eyes dark and cold. They soon darted back away.
My body trembled with cold as i try to relax by the flames. Eventually, one of the men got up, stretching his sturdy frame. He was wearing a blue denim jacket that was buttoned up; the fur framed his masculine face. The man walked over to the corner of the room and opened a small chest. He then pulled out an old, ratty blanket. "It's not much, but it'll help." He said, tossing me the tattered piece of cloth.
"Thank you, mister..." I said softly, pausing, hoping he'd tell me his name.
"Uh- Morgan." He said, his eyes meeting mine. "Arthur Morgan." He nodded awkwardly before sitting back down in his chair by the fire, his eyes lingering back in my direction. He cleared his throat and looked back towards the fire, a tiny smile apparent on his face.
