It was summer, the sun was beaming, beating down on the camp.

Arthur sighed, his face covered with sweat. His sleeves were rolled up and he had taken the scarf he wore around his neck off.

You, on the other hand, were covered from head to toe, concealing the scars that littered your body, scared of being judged despite most of the gang having their own scars from fights. Yours were different, and you didn’t want anyone to ever know about them.

Arthurs gaze fell on you, silently observing you for a few minutes before speaking. “The hell are you wearin’?” He grunts out. “How aint you burnin’?”