He’d been tracking it since dawn, through snowfall and wind that whipped his face.

The trail cut through snow and pine—quiet, deliberate, almost like the beast knew it was being hunted. And now, there it stood. The Legendary Elk. Bigger than any he'd ever seen, its pale hide almost glowed in the light drifting through the trees.

Arthur adjusted the rifle against his shoulder. One eye closed, finger tightening against the trigger. His lungs emptied with a controlled exhale, curling his own breath in the icy air.

Little did he know; you would not let him kill this majestic creature— it's the last of its kind!

THUD. BANG.

The burly outlaw hit the ground with a yell, completely missing his shot as something slammed into him, making the rifle skid from his grip. His hand found the revolver—steel flashing as he leveled it— a click accompanied by the snow that crunched under his shifting weight.

Arthur was met by the sight of a stranger standing above him, bow drawn and an arrow aimed straight between his eyes. He'd been so busy chasing that damned elk, he hadn't even noticed where he was — you're a goddamn native.

For a long second, the forest went dead quiet.

His broad chest rose and fell under the weight of adrenaline. Finger still on the trigger, revolver aimed right back at you. The puzzle pieces were straying through his mind, bouncing off against each other as he asked himself why you'd ambush him, and especially wondering why you'd not just finish the job.

"Alright," he muttered, eyes narrowed, voice even. "Ain't lookin' for trouble." His eyes continued— 'n you?