Arthur Morgan X OC | Red Dead Redemption 2.

Chapter 1. On The Run.

The sunshine hurt my eyes as I tried to open them. I tried to move my legs but they were so stiff I could barley move.

I sat up, little by little, and looked at my surroundings. I had on my jeans and a shirt, that was about it. I looked around for my horse but only found what was left of her.

I stumbled to get up and tried to find a way back to Valentine, but I just kept falling and tripping. What had happened? I tried to feel for my guns but nothing was there. I had been robbed.
My throat begged for water and my sore body needed rest but I had to keep moving. I could feel dry and sticky blood on my leg as I struggled to bend it. It hurt something fierce.

"Any.... body?" I wheezed. I must've been out in the middle of nowhwere. I felt the grass and tried to open my eyes wider. They stung like wasps had jabbed me in my eyes, but I needed to see in order to get help.

I forced them open and saw I was in a wooded area and quite a few trails. I went to my dead horse and tried to find a gun on her but there was nothing except an empty beer bottle on her.

I stumbled around the woods before I heard voices.

Lots of them.

"Hey!" I yelled.

No answer. Suddenly it all went silent.
I tried to walk.

I almost fell forward.

Suddenly, a cold hard object was at my back. Most likely a gun.

"Don't move." A voice said.

"I... I..." My voice wouldnt even work.

I tried to turn around but I felt the butt of the gun against my temple and thats the last thing I remember.

×××

I woke up, feeling comfortable on a nice soft deerskin. I felt dirt in my eyes and tried to rub it out but my hands and feet were tied together.

I coughed.

I saw a figure approach me.

"Who are you?" A deep male voiced asked me.

I coughed again, trying to speak.

"Answer."

"I-I..." I wheezed. My throat and mouth was so dry it felt like fur.

"She might be thirsty." A female voice said.

I nodded softly and immediately a cold and moist opening was brought to my mouth. I felt it tip up and nice cold water gave me relief, enough to speak anyways.

"Thank.... you." I gasped.

"Your name."

"Robin." I said.

"Robin who?" The voice pushed.

"I'm just.... Robin." I glared. My eyes adjusted to the bright light and I saw a man dressed fairly well and a mustache.

"Well. What're you doing here?" He said, grabbing my hair tightly.

"I... I got robbed!" I hissed.

"Dutch, is this necessary?" A black woman piped up.

"We can't take chances." The man said.

"I'm one.... woman. And I won't hurt anybody." I said weakly.

"One woman can turn onto hundreds of men." He stood up and walked back a few steps.

"Please...?" I laid my head back, defeated.

No answer. But I felt the ropes on my legs being cut and my wrists. I looked up to see a black man cutting them.

"Oh, hi." I said.

He nodded, not saying a word. I tried to stand up but could barley even lift my body to a sitting position.

"Abigail, please keep this lady under control. Clean her up a bit." The man,  who I assumed was in charge, said.

A pretty lady with dark black hair walked over and took my arm gently.

"We'll clean ya up, honey." She said.
I nodded as she led me to a cabin with tarps over it to make a tent.

She set me down and started taking my greasy dirty brown hair out of it's braid.

I felt her pulling burrs and twigs out of my hair and then brushing it.

"There ya go." She smiled.

"Thank you." I said.

"Are ya hungry? My husband and his friend should be back soon with some vension." She informed.

"Oh. I don't wanna be a burden." I said, guilty.

"Nonsense!" Abigail said.

"So... what're you all doin' out here?" I ask, looking around. It was all tents and horses, no houses and almost everybody had a gun.

"Uh... oh there's John!" Abigail said, getting up. Two men rode up on their horses, deer on one of their horse's back.

She went over and talked to them for a bit. I checked my pockets. My money was gone, bullets are gone.
My photo was gone!

"Hey!" I got up, angry but still wobbly.
I tried to walk to the well dressed man but fell to my knees.
I felt rough hands grab my arm and lift me up.

"Dutch, who the hell is this?" A gruff voice asked.

"No clue. She won't tell me her name."

"I'm Robin!" I hissed, trying to swing at this Dutch man.

"Please... all I want is my photograph I had in my pocket." I said, looking up.
A man with a stubble and a black hat had me by the arm and the well dressed man, Dutch, was in front of me.

"Mr. Morgan, please take Robin to the girl's wagon." Dutch said, handing him a piece of paper.

"Is that mine?" I say, trying to brake my arm out of the man's grasp.

"Yes. Just come along now." He said.

"What's your name?" I ask, limping along with him.

"Sit." He ignored my question.

"Arthur, what happened?" A lady with blonde braids and a book walked up.

"Nothin',  Mary-Beth." He responded.

"Arthur? Please? The photo?" I pleaded,  sitting down on a blanket.

He looked down at me then handed me the photo.

"Thank ya." I smiled. He scoffed and walked away, talking to the Mary-Beth girl.

"Real friendly." I hissed, taking my photo.

I looked at it. It was a photo of my mother when she was around 17.

"Here."

I looked up. Abigail had returned with a plate of vegetables and herbs.

"Hosea said you would gain more strength by eatin' this." She explained, seeing my confused face.

I took it and nibbled on the food, feeling a bit better.
I laid down and shut my eyes, feeling exhausted.

Hopefully these people won't kill me...