WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. II

You didn't even have time to react, much less think, until you were knocked down by an immense weight. Your stomach flipped when the you heard the sound of metal against the earth, quite a distance away from you. Your rifle, fuck. You had dropped it.

The putrid smell of decaying meat mixed with the homely one of a dog's wet fur overcame you, and before you knew it, there was a sharp pain in your left shoulder.

You screamed out in agony, unable to think, to breathe, and only to fight.

Oh god, the wolf. It was the wolf you'd heard of.

Instinctively, your uninjured hand went to the left side of your hip, unsheathing the dagger you carried with you at all times, ramming it into whatever you could get a hold of.

The visceral sound of flesh being cut rang out soon enough, followed by a painful yowl, right next to your ear. Warm blood oozed all over the hand you held the knife with.

And yet the wolf wasn't backing down a bit.

You rang for air, and at the same time, struggled to kick the animal away, fruitlessly.

Its fangs dug deeper into the wound on your shoulder. White invaded your vision, in spite of the darkness around you.

With your last bit of strength, you pulled out the knife and rammed it into another spot, hoping you'd hit something vital.

Boom!

It took you a few seconds to realize what exactly the small explosion was.

You'd never been happier to hear another man's rifle being fired as much as in that moment.

The weight holding you down increased, the wild animal slumping down on top of you, but its hold on your shoulder loosened. You felt like you could breathe.

"Y'alright there?" A male voice coated in a southern accent spoke up. Unusually warm and calm considering the events that has just taken place.

"Yeah. I— Jesus Christ. Yeah." You groaned, struggling off the dead animal off of you. Your throbbing shoulder wasn't exactly helping.

You heard steps to your right. Quicker than you could comprehend, you were freed from below the weight, staring up at the cloudy night sky. Your mind was hazy at best, high-pitched ringing in your ears and pulse racing against your chest from the fading rush of adrenaline.

"That don' look too good." You could hardly make out your savior's features, yet were able to recognize a tall, wide frame towering above you. With your uninjured hand, you reached up to the wound. Your shirt was soaked with blood (your last clean shirt, damnit) and you didn't even dare touch the flesh.

He crouched down beside you. In the moonlight, you could make out his harsh, rugged features, as well as his watchful gaze, of a color you couldn't pinpoint because of your lightheadedness and the dim moonlight.

"Never been the kinda person to pride myself in my looks anyways." You answered, forcing a smile onto your face. Maybe he had saved you, but who knew what his real intentions were? Letting your guard down, or worse, even showing weakness, did not seem like a particularly bright idea. "Thanks, by the way."

"Probably ain't the best idea to lay on the ground with an open injury for too long." He ignored your thanks, and instead reached out a hand for you to take. "If you can joke, I reckon you can stand too."

"Yeah." You reluctantly took his hand, and were surprised at how easily he had pulled you back onto your feet. Your surroundings were losing their already lacking saturation, and your guts felt unbearably hot, like you had downed nothing but acid in the past few minutes.

You drew in a sharp breath, and held back a wince at another sting of pain in your shoulder.

You practically jumped out of your skin when the man suddenly whistled, loudly enough to rival nails being dragged across a blackboard. You were about to ask what exactly he thought he was doing, until a dark brown horse appeared in your field of view, stopping beside the man.

Nonchalantly, he walked over to the carcass of the beast he'd shot not more than a minute ago, and picked it up like it was a sack of potatoes. Then he began to tie it onto the back of his horse.

Taking that as his silent way of bidding you farewell, you looked around for your rifle, simultaneously digging through your satchel in the search of whiskey and medicine.

"What were ya doin' out in the wilds by yourself, if ya don't mind me askin'?" He spoke up, yet a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed he still hadn't turned around to face you.

You decided to tell him part of the truth. "I lost my dog."

A chuckle rumbled against his chest, and he finally did turn around to face you, casually leaning against his horse. "Your dog?"

"Yeah." You answered defensively, bending down to pick up your rifle. "What's so funny about that?"

"Nothin'." He said, then paused for a second. "Unless it's a smaller, yappier version of a german shepherd. Brown fur."

What?

"You— how?" You stuttered, spinning on your heels to face him, resisting the urge to double over and clutch your shoulder after the pain caused by the sudden movement.

"Came up to me while I was sleepin'." The man said. "Little rascal."

"What did you do to him?" You asked through gritted teeth, from both the increasing pain in your shoulder and the fear of losing your trusty companion.

"Calm down, woman. Do I look like some kinda serial dog killer to ya?" He laughed through his nose, little smirk playing on his lips as he watched you approach him. "Just fed him some scraps o' meat and tied him to my tent."

Almost immediately, you pointed your rifle at him. "Alright. Then you go get him, and bring him right here," You grabbed the reins of his horse before he had the chance to react. "where I'll be waiting. With your trusty steed."

You weren't planning on shooting him, obviously, but you couldn't be sure of his intentions. Or if he really was telling the truth about Lobo. You hoped he was.

The man was surprised for not more than a few seconds, then raised his palms up in submission. "Or...I could just take you there. Free of charge."

That sounded...fair enough. He seemed anything but enthusiastic to leave his horse with you. Maybe he really needed it, or the huge wolf, for whatever reason. Perhaps even both.

"I got some medicine there too." He added after the short pause. Was he trying to be convincing?

Talking surely wasn't his strong point, that much you'd figured out by now. Whoever this man was, he seemed to be the kind of person to use intimidation rather than persuasion to bring his point across.

"And why would you want to waste your supplies on me?" You insisted, not lowering the rifle for a bit.

"Keep forcing your luck like that and I might just change my goddamn mind."

You grit your teeth, then holstered the weapon. You could trust him. For now at least, you hoped.

"Alright. But I'm leaving as soon as I have my dog."

"Be my guest." He sighed, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from his satchel, setting one on fire using a match. He took a drag from it, then looked at you, nodding at his horse. "Come on now, we don't got all day."