Chapter Text
Blackwater was a royal shit show. Jenny was dead, and Davey was dying. Mac and Sean were missing. Now the gang was up in the north, caught in a snowstorm. A particularly bad one at that. Arthur was told to ride ahead, to try and find some sort of shelter. If they stay out here, they’d be dead, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Arthur gripped Taima’s reins, the women, Jack. What was he thinking? They had to survive. Arthur didn’t have anything to live for, his death would be washed away by the rushing water, his memory, his existence, just… forgotten. Life would go on; he would not be missed. It was something that Arthur had accepted, for the most part.
His fingers grew numb, and the snow kept falling. The violent wind making the snow swirl around, it was not pretty. It was terrifying. Arthur reached down and scratched Taima’s neck,
“Hold on just a lil’ longer.” Arthur would have to thank Charles later, Boadicea died in the crossfire. He wanted to stay, to sit and to mourn, but he couldn’t. There was an ache in his chest, knowing he left her there, to rot, to be picked at by vultures. When she fell Arthur fell as well, he avoided being crushed by her weight, but the roaring of screams and gunshots made him move forward. The women, Jack, and even John. They had something to live for. He paused for a moment, tugging on Taima’s reins to slow her. The ache in his chest was unbearable.
Arthur exhaled, since Blackwater he felt as if he could not breathe. Oh, when looking up Arthur was met with a tree? No, a shack. Well, if he wasn’t wallowing in his feelings he would’ve been face down in the snow. God, he couldn’t believe it. Almost running into a goddamn shack, he was glad no one else was here.
Turning to the left with Taima he followed a path and was met with multiple other shacks. An abandoned mining town probably. Okay, okay. This was good. Arthur turned and followed his tracks, back to the caravan.
----
Taking an especially long drag of his cigarette Arthur looked upon the gang’s temporary home. He leant back in his seat and blew out the smoke into the morning air, it wasn’t the best and even though some of the snow had thawed it wasn’t possible to move just yet. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a ton to do. Ah, you know what they say, no rest for the wicked. Arthur chuckled. As soon as the rest of the gang got to Colter him and Dutch rode out to find Micah or John. They were also told to ride up ahead, but neither came back like Arthur did. To his unfortunate luck they stumbled upon Micah, who stumbled upon O’Driscoll’s, who in turn stumbled upon a ranch and killed a man. Fuck, it was a long night. The ranch ended up in flames and they took in the man’s wife. A widow now. It made Arthur sick. Oh, and they found John, with his face half eaten.
“Arthur.”
“Mhhm,” Arthur removed the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled the smoke, “What is it” He turned his head and looked up at Charles. What a nice surprise. I mean he guessed it was him from the low voice, that always managed to reverberate in Arthur’s bones. But seeing his face for once instead of Micha’s or Johns half eaten one, was refreshing.
“Pearson needs food, he asked me.”
“Your hand ain’t fit for hunting.” Arthur kept his gaze locked with Charles.
“I know, that’s why I want you to come.” Charles grabbed the bow from his shoulder and handed it to Arthur.
“Me? I- I can’t use a bow.”
“I’ll teach you, none of these fools would learn as quickly as you.” The compliment was nice. Arthur did already know how to use a bow, but he just wanted to try and get out of going. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the calmness of Charles company, but because he had a long sleepless night and wanted to sit in his feeling for a bit before doing anything.
“Okay, sure. But you think we’ll find anything?”
“Of course, if you know where and how to look you can find anything anywhere. Are you any good at tracking and hunting?” Yes, yes he was. Arthur supposed Charles wasn’t with the gang long enough to know this, he could tell him, but Arthur didn’t want to. Why? Well, he just wanted Charles to enjoy this, and having Arthur take the lead would be boring.
“Naw, not particularly. Never been too good at it.” Arthur moved his gaze to the bow he was holding.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take the lead.” Arthur nodded. Then he stood up and put out the still burning cigarette. He put the bow over his shoulder and cracked his neck. The bed, if you could even call it that, left Arthur with all kinds of aches in his joints.
They both walked over to the horses, which were all hitched near Pearsons’s dwelling. Arthur stopped at the Grullo Dun Mustang he found last night. She was in the stable at the ranch that burned down last night. It was unusual for a mustang to be out in the north, but she would do. He rubbed a hand along her neck, needed a name. But Arthur was drawing a blank.
“That’s a fine horse, have a name yet.” Charles called from Taima, waiting for Arthur.
“Yes, she is. And no, I can’t think of anything.” Arthur mounted her and turned to Charles.
“You’ll think of something good.”
“Hah, I will try.”
----
After a 10 or so minute ride Charles slowed to a stop, Arthur stopping as well just behind.
“Deer tracks.” Charles leant over in his saddle to inspect the ground. “Yep, two I think heading this way. We should go on foot from here.” Arthur dismounted after Charles and continued to follow his lead. They walked slowly through the snow following the faint deer tracks.
“Get down.” Charles near whispered. Again, his voice reverberated throughout his entire body, almost eliciting a shiver. Arthur followed Charles to a tree line with a lone deer about 10 meters away.
“Steady, don’t keep the bow drawn too long, breathe out and hold.” Charles was next to Arthur, his knee touching Arthur’s thigh. Arthur did just as Charles told him and lined up his shot at the deer’s neck.
“Release when you are sure.” Charles whispered; he wasn’t anywhere near Arthur’s ear, but the sound felt so close. He released. The arrow hit true, and the deer fell.
“Good job Arthur.” Charles smiled at him when he looked over.
“Yea, it’s easy when they ain’t shooting back.”
Charles chuckled; it was quick but the sound replayed in Arthur’s head. He doesn’t think he’s heard Charles laugh before.
“You should laugh more, it sounds nice.” Arthur wanted to raise Charles spirits after all that death in Blackwater, and what better way than to laugh. It was some weird logic, but Arthur didn’t seem too concerned on the innerworkings of his logic.
“Sure Arthur.”
God, what a lovely voice. Arthur wasn’t sure how he never noticed.