Wild Things (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

Six Point Cabin

"It's probably higher, now," wounded hand slurs.

Duignan turns back to wounded hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, you're right!"

The third one finally speaks, impatience lacing his voice. "Can we have fun with her now? I'm itching for some—"

Wounded hand holds out his good hand, stopping him from stepping toward you. Your eyes meet and you know it ain't to save your hide. "Let Colm have her. Then we can have the leftovers before we take her in." You scowl menacingly at him but it doesn't seem to deter any of their laughter. "She won't be no daisy anymore."

Duignan flings the poster at you and it lands before your feet. Like a band of cackling hyenas, they fumble over each other as they head out the door.

They left the lantern on the table so at least you have some light. You are tired, but you can't fall asleep now. You have to be on your guard.

Now that you are alone, you can gather your thoughts. You ache for your horse. You've always been grateful for him, but you didn't realize how much you depend on him for company up until now. You think about the fox, and how you won't be able to leave scraps for it. You hope to God that it won't get your chickens. But you guess that it won't matter now. Soon you'll be on your way to jail and who knows what next.

You lower your head. There was a time that you had hoped that someone would come rescue you, but he won't be coming and it's your fault. It's your fault that he's dead and you've been a ghost of your former self ever since.

It's been years since you've really thought about that time. You haven't let yourself go there, but now it's the only thought keeping you awake...

You are a schoolteacher. Well loved and respected by the people around you. You are in your classroom grading papers late one stormy night. It is typical of you to burn the late oil before finally returning home. You like to leave all of your papers at the school. Plus, you also like to avoid the town's pompous brat, who has been begging you to court him for the past year and a half.

It is quiet and still, aside from the howling winds and rush of rain hitting against the windows. There is a strange energy, and something deep within you fights against the excitement to remain calm and still.

It would have been just another day, until someone thunderously burst in.

The sound of the door hitting the wall startles you and you look up to see a man, hunched over, coat dripping and water running off his hat. He is panting heavily.

Without saying a word, he takes a few more steps and crashes to the floor.

Because you have courage in every fibre of your character, you hurry to that man's aide.

"Sir, are you hurt?"

You can barely get a word out of him, as he is fading in and out of consciousness. But one thing you quickly discover, as you try to remove his heavy coat, was that he was shot. You feel your face grow cold at the sight. Two bullets went clean through his shoulder. While not fatal, it is clear that he has lost a lot of blood. And unfortunately, the doctor is out of town.

So, you do what any good person would do. You get up and quickly put on your coat. After securing the buttons you crouch back down beside him. "Can you walk? I need to get you home."

He must have heard you, as he slowly struggles to rise to his feet with you supporting him. Using all of your strength, you help him step outside, lumber down the steps, and roll into the back of your wagon. The rain beats heavily on you, but you leap into the front of the wagon and urge your horse into a gallop.