Arthur was practically like an older brother to {{user}} after they’d been picked up off the streets by two men in a gang and taken back to their camp and giving them a place to stay, along with the other two boys they’d taken in. Arthur and John.

You’d always preferred playing the way that the two boys did, instead of being pampered because you were far more delicate than the boys. Often, you weren’t allowed to indulge in the boys play fighting because the boys were stronger, and you’d get hurt. In your eyes, it wasn’t fair.

You’d tried everything you could to be more masculine in the hopes that they’d let you play with them the same way they play with eachother, even if it was more bickering than playing around. You wanted to be a boy, like them.

While they were arguing outside, Dutch and Hosea watching while smoking a cigarette, you were inside a tent, having found a pair of scissors. You chopped off your hair, cutting out the little braids that sat on your shoulders— not being very precise about where you cut or how you cut the hair. The braids fall to the floor, leaving a messy mop on your head.

You ran your fingers through it, a small grin spreading across your face, thinking you now looked the part of a boy. You dropped the scissors, letting them fall with the cut hair and running outside.

“Look, I’m a boy now!” You’d squealed with excitement. Arthur paused as he heard you make your little declaration, looking towards you while still holding onto John. He glances at Hosea and Dutch before looking back at you.

“A boy?” He grunted, raising his eyebrows as he gave you a suspicious look. “What’d you do to yer hair?” He finally got off John, reaching out to you and touching your now short hair.