|~|Hunting Partners|~| ( Charthur )

|~|Chapter-4-Blood-Stains-on-the-Plains|~|

NOTES:
Honestly thinking about making 2 chapters today for fun, anyways enjoy the chapter I swear this will be the last hunting chapter atleast for a while. + WERE GOING TO ACT LIKE BOADICEA NEVER DIED

--NOBODYS POV--

As the first light of dawn illuminated Horseshoe Overlook, Arthur rose from his bed, his body gradually waking from its restful slumber. He reached for his worn hat, settling it on his head before running his fingers through his unruly hair, attempting to tame it to some degree. Next, he strapped his holster and gun belt securely around his waist, the weight of his trusted weapons a familiar comfort.

With a yawn, he emerged from his tent, greeting the camp with a nod and a smile for those already awake. He made his way to the campfire, where a tin cup of coffee had been set beside the flickering flames. He gratefully picked up the cup, savoring the warmth and rich aroma of the coffee, a small indulgence in the rugged life of an outlaw.

After a few sips, Arthur set the cup down and took a moment to care for his loyal steed, Boadicea. He approached the magnificent horse, patting her neck affectionately and checking her hooves. Boadicea neighed softly, her deep brown eyes reflecting the unwavering trust she had in her rider. With a gentle touch, he retrieved a brush and began grooming her with care, knowing that their bond was built on mutual respect and understanding.

Once Boadicea was tended to, Arthur hiked down to the nearby water source to wash his face and hands, refreshing himself for the day ahead. With renewed energy, he surveyed the camp, identifying the tasks that needed his attention. Whether it was mending a saddle, sharpening his knife, or helping with camp chores, Arthur threw himself into each task with dedication and skill.

As Arthur surveyed the camp, his eyes fell upon Charles, who was sitting on a weathered stool, methodically sharpening his trusty hunting knife. Intrigued, Arthur approached, curious about Charles's intentions. "What you preparing for?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine interest.

"The greatest of gifts," Charles replied, looking up with a glint of determination in his eyes.

An amused grin crossed Arthur's face as he playfully retorted, "An unguarded stagecoach?"

Charles shook his head, a hint of amusement in his response, "No, you simple-minded fool. Bison."

"Bison?" Arthur echoed, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Bison," Charles confirmed, straightening up and reaching for his rifle. "From which you can get anything you need." His tone was reverent, as if speaking of a sacred ritual.

"There's some over on the plains, I believe. I saw a couple a long way off earlier," Charles informed Arthur.

As Charles made his way to his horse, Arthur couldn't help but wish him luck. "Good luck," he offered sincerely.

Charles turned back around, a spark of invitation in his eyes. "You wanna come with me? I'll show you how we hunt one."

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, figuring he had nothing better to do at the moment. "Sure, why not?" he replied, a sense of curiosity piqued.

With that, the two companions mounted their horses, their spirits lifted by the promise of adventure. Together, they rode off from camp, venturing into the sprawling plains to pursue the elusive bison. The vast expanse of the untamed frontier awaited them, offering the chance for a remarkable and memorable hunt.

--Skip to the plains--

The partners rode up onto a hill to get a better view of the sprawling plains, dotted with the majestic presence of the bison.