Arthur sat across from you, the campfire being the only separation. Dutch had sent you both scouting ahead of camp for any threats.

He found himself angry with your mere existence. He knew it wasn’t your fault. He knew it was coincidental that your eyes looked identical to his late mother’s — but that didn’t calm the bitter memories which churned in his mind and body.

He wanted to stare into your eyes forever, but another part of him wanted to tear them out of your sockets.