WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. I

Most people don't go to the Cotorra hot springs because of an outlaw. Scratch that, most people don't go to the Cotorra springs altogether.

The night was slowly but surely creeping onto the sky. In spite of the rather dry, morbid landscape, there was something oddly bewitching about the springs, wether that was the unusually saturated colors the water presented, or its awfully inviting temperature, or the openness of the terrain, you didn't know.

But the springs were nice to look at, that much you were sure of. And a pretty good source of warmth as well.

Your dog, Lobo, was padding around the pile of wood you were hoping to turn into a campfire, stopping from time to time to yawn, his white, sharp fangs peeking out from his snout. He seemed at ease, which was more than a good sign.

You'd heard that the area wasn't exactly hospitable, and, not to mention, was the territory of a huge wolf. No trace of it so far, however. You supposed you'd gotten lucky.

Still.

You couldn't help but wonder what exactly Arthur Morgan possibly hoped to find here. Isolation? Relaxation? You glanced at the hot springs again. Probably not. From what you'd heard, he wasn't that kind of person. Not the kind to abandon his gang (which, goddamnit, you still hadn't tracked down), not without a proper reason.

You jumped when Lobo nudged your side, a little whine escaping his throat before he looked at the deer carcass strapped onto your horse, just a few feet away.

Right. You still hadn't gotten the campfire started, in spite of the meat you were hoping to cook.

"Patience, we'll get there." You smiled down at the little animal and scratched the top of his head. His pointy ears lowered slightly as he pressed into your palm.

After showering Lobo with a little more affection, you reached for your satchel, taking out a box of matches, and an old letter. You crumbled it up, then set it on fire using the match before dropping it on top of the pile of wood, cupping your hands around it.

Seconds later, the flames spread out, creating a campfire. Perfect. You whistled over your horse, took out your hunting knife, cutting the rope that secured the carcass to it.

With heavy movements, you managed to drag off the weight from its back, and towards your campfire. Lobo circled around you, his fluffy tail wagging in excitement at the smell of fresh meat.

You could only agree with the sentiment.

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You took another bite from cooked piece of meat on your hunting knife, closing your eyes to savor the texture. It wasn't seasoned, so the taste wasn't exquisite, but it was satisfactory, you supposed. More than satisfactory, considering the empty state of your stomach.

Your dog was chewing away on a bone, little crackles echoing in his mouth whenever he'd break off another piece. The fire's fine orange light bounced off his reddish-brown fur, creating shadows on his face and awakening that familiar amber glow in them, which you had grown to find homely. Warmth spread in your chest at the feeling of some kind of pseudo-safety.

You'd hang onto whatever you could for now. Until you'd get enough money to pay off your family's debts and afford the care your aunt deserved. It was a distant dream, and you were fully aware that her disease was a ticking time bomb—but you didn't care.

All you'd have to do was catch Arthur Morgan, cash in the 5000 dollars of bounty on his head, and then you'd be carefree. (That was much easier said than done, though.)

You could buy a little ranch near a town, Strawberry, maybe, and help your aunt—the woman that raised you— spend her last few months in the peace she really did deserve. And then, you could try your luck at being a farmer, maybe. How hard could raising a few animals and watering crops be?

Less tough than chasing after outlaws, that much you were certain of.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Lobo sheepishly set his head on your lap before yawning.

"Good boy." You praised, ruffling his fur before shifting around on the wool blanket you had set on the ground.

You'd find Arthur Morgan some time soon, you were sure of it. All you'd have to do was stay tenacious for a little while longer.

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You jolted awake when you realized the space at your feet was cold and empty. The campfire had died out as well, nothing but a few flickering hot pieces of coal casting little to no light. You blinked away the tiredness from your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow.

You squinted at the inky, thick darkness around you, trying to make out something. Your dog was gone.

So was the deer carcass.

"Lobo! Here, boy!" You whistled, in the hopes of not having to get up to look for the him. The only thing you really wanted was sleep.

That however seemed to have been cut short by the fact that your call was left without a response. Everything around you was silent, aside from a shadow a quite a distance away from you, which you realized was your horse.

What the hell? When had you taken it that far away from camp?

You whistled again, and the mare cautiously approached, letting out a few neighs of displeasure as she came closer.

You got on your feet, rolling up the wool blanket and storing it on your horse once she had reached your side. You took the rifle out of the holster, then pat her neck. "Stay here, girl."

Fully awake by then, you easily reloaded it with a few deft movements, then proceeded to inspect the spot where you'd left the carcass the evening before. There was a trail of blood leading away from it, smeared against the dry, cracked earth. Well then.

"Lobo!" You called out again, in the hopes of finding your canine companion again, yet remained discouragingly fruitless. A whistle didn't change the situation either.

With a sigh, you tightened your grip around the rifle and stepped forward, deciding to follow the trail. It lead down the hill, away from the springs.

Your stomach churned in disapproval at the entire situation. You were supposed to be getting a good night's rest and then catching an outlaw, not this! Not following a trail of blood to find your lost dog.

And especially not if there were rumors of a huge wolf wandering about.

Your mouth suddenly felt cottony, unusually dry, and you found yourself having to concentrate on your breathing to quiet it down. Easy now. Lobo couldn't have gone far. Who knows, maybe he'd even found another clue that'd lead you closer to finding Arthur Morgan. There was no reason to lose your calm, not yet.

You jumped at the sound of paws against dry, crusty earth. "Lobo?" You asked, all reason and coolheadedness lost when you didn't receive a bark as an answer.

A throaty snarl, right behind you caused your heart to skip a beat. You whipped around, yet were shocked to find the space empty.

"Whoever or whatever it is, show yourself!" You demanded, in spite of being fully aware that if it really was a human you were dealing with, your request would be futile, and even more so if it was, in fact, an animal.

You loaded your rifle, jaw clenching as you continued looking around, yet couldn't recognize anything.

That was, until a howl ripped through the air.