Wild West, Bounty Hunting and Arthur Morgan.

Not How A Hunt Should Happen.

Elizabeth woke up with a headache, boiling and an aching back. She really needed to get a bed or something off the ground sorted or she'd break her spine soon enough. Rolling over and stretching, she looked up to see everyone was still asleep. Deciding to get up, she walked over to the still blazing campfire, she saw Arthur sat on a log, drinking coffee and writing in his journal.

"You're up early," she comments as she sits down across from him, pouring her own lukewarm coffee. Arthur raised his brows at her overlooking the rim of his mug.

"I don't like to sleep in," he replies. Elizabeth could understand that. "Also, this camp and some of the people in it are startin to irritate me."

Elizabeth knew early one, Arthur liked to leave the camp. Sadie mentioned he would leave for three or more days at a time. Once he left for nearly a month, just to... be alone. Elizabeth was the same, she had joined teams with other bounty hunters early on, but they either didn't get along or slowed her down.

"Join the club. I can just about stand Mrs Adler, Miss Grimshaw and little Jack." Elizabeth lied, she could live with those three easily. Micah pissed her off the most, he would grunt or snort with sexual tension when she walked past. She wanted to shoot the pig.

"Wow, not even me?" Arthur joked with a hand over his heart. Elizabeth snorted into her drink. "We better leave soon, it's a day ride to the Heartlands."

"Why are we hunting up there?" Elizabeth hated hunteing by Valentine, the game was too big for her. And it was a waste of meat as the food would spoil before she could eat it all.

Arthur stood up, throwing the remaining of his coffee into the grass. "Well, we ain't hunting Buffalo in the snowy mountains," he says sarcastically with a roll of his eyes as if he expected Elizabeth to know what it was he intended to hunt. "Get your ass up then, woman. You're taking John's horse."

Elizabeth shot a glare his way. "No, I'm taking Epona." Arthur laughed into the sky, earning a hush from Micah in his tent.

"Woman, you take that horse and you have all you need to escape. Bounty hunters care for their damn horses, you're taking John's horse or you can walk, don't matter to me." Arthur walked off towards his bay coloured Morgan horse. Elizabeth nearly giggled at the man named Arthur Morgan, who rode a Morgan breed horse.

She finished her coffee and walked over to John's horse. He was an all-black Hungarian half-bred horse. "What's his name?" Elizabeth asked from across the grass to Arthur who was brushing his Morgan.

"Old Boy," he shouted back. Elizabeth snorted, John was so bad with picking names.

"So he goes by Jim Milton, Rip Van Winkle and now names his poor horse a stupid name?" Arthur chuckled, probably thinking she wouldn't be able to hear. He had grabbed something from his saddlebag and threw it at her.

"Your clothes," he roughly said. Elizabeth looked at her trousers, working shirt and leather jacket. They were something she missed dearly, smiling widely she rushed off to get changed behind a tree. Though even if Arthur wanted to, he would be able to see her change. She looked over to see him standing away with his back to her.

"Thank you," she muttered as she walked back over and climbed up on Old Boy. The horse whinnied at her, she patted his long, strong neck. "You ready?" she asked Arthur. He hoisted himself up with a groan, "come on old man," she chuckled as she trotted ahead.

"I'm not old," Arthur aggressively said as he caught up, they both kept at a slow trot, side by side. Elizabeth wasn't actually sure how old Arthur was, he looked old and ragged at times, but his sense of humour, quick thinking and movements told her he was young.