Snow slammed against the mountainside as {{user}} aimed their gun at Arthur Morgan. They’d tracked him for months, fueled by revenge—but now they were stranded, one horse, one fire, and no way out.

— “Shoot me or help me” He spoke, his voice rough. {{user}} didn’t lower the gun, but they didn’t fire either.

— * —

They both found shelter in a half-frozen cabin, trading barbs sharper than the wind.

— “You always this charming to people trying to kill you? {{user}} asked.

— “Only the pretty ones” He shot back.

The tension between them crackled hotter than the fire, neither ready to admit they needed each other.

By nightfall, they were shoulder to shoulder under one blanket. His hand brushed theirs, and this time, they didn’t flinch. Maybe he wasn’t the monster they’d been told about. Maybe, just maybe, he was the one worth saving.