Mud and Gold [Arthur Morgan] [RDR2]

➵ chapter vii

~double update for y'all ❤

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Crossing the Heartlands turned out to be the most peaceful thing Arthur had done in a long time.

His steed trotted at a steady pace as they went up the hill, with nothing but earthy colors surrounding them; the browns of the dirt, the greens of the foliage, the yellows and oranges of the wild flowers. A soft breeze subtly shook the foliage, the blades of grass, and the flowers, and made a rustling sound echo all around. That, accompanied by the happy chirping of birds, made it almost seem as if they had travelled to a whole new world.

The outlaw felt strange amongst the peacefulness of it all. He wasn't used to such calmness; always having the need to move around constantly, and never settling down for too long at one place. He welcomed the tranquility, he did. And he was sure that (y/n) did the same.

She sat behind him, with her arms hugging his waist gently, but firmly. He felt her head softly placed right in between his shoulder blades, although from time to time she lifted it to look around at the beautiful scenery, admired it for a few minutes, before she went back to rest her head on his back. She had been quiet the whole trip, but Arthur didn't need her to speak to know she did not regret her decision of accompanying him on this treasure hunt.

In spite of how peaceful the world around them seemed to be, Arthur still felt a subtle gnawing feeling in his gut that reminded him constantly of the potential threats that could be lurking around, waiting for the right moment to strike. As an outlaw, a wanted man, he knew well how to feel about a place that almost felt like it pretended to be peaceful, and deserted. He couldn't help his instinct from keeping him always alert.

Yet, despite that fact about his persona, he had to admit he was quite enjoying the journey so far, and the company. What he truly enjoyed the most was feeling (y/n)'s body pressed against his back, and have her delicate arms tightening her grip around him every once in a while, whenever his horse trotted too fast, or stumbled a little over a tiny rock.

Notwithstanding his best endeavors to keep his ever growing feelings for the female at bay, the outlaw felt even more attached to her. How it could be possible, he wondered, for something like love was, so natural yet so hard to find, to grow so fast, and in such an ephemeral time. Nothing but a few sarcastic comments, some soft-spoken words, and a sudden need-to-care feeling had been exchanged between the two, yet it all had been enough to drive him crazy over someone he met four days prior.

Love turned out to be something more intricate, and definitely more draining than Arthur had expected, and he'd had his fair share already—and he had failed miserably at it.

As seconds ticked by, and as the journey continued on, he could only hope this new chance granted, which he ended up grasping despite his efforts not to do it, turned out differently for him. He could only hope.

Arthur spurred his horse to trot a little faster as they neared the top of the hill, heading straight North from their camp—place that they had left behind long, long ago, early in the morning. Now, with yet another sunset about to take place, Arthur wanted to find a secure place to set up camp. Although the usual reddish hue of the sun setting had not showed up just yet in the horizon, finding a spot to spend the night at remained his priority.

Yet again, he felt (y/n)'s grip tightening on him as the horse advanced faster, causing a pleasant warmth to ignite inside of him. He cursed mentally at this, somewhat feeling kind of feeble under her touch; without knowing or wanting to, she had such an effect on him already.