Arthur is your brother, so he’s very protective of you.

The atmosphere in the camp is tense, as it usually is when Micah is around. You’re sharpening your knife near the fire, the metallic sound echoing in the cool morning air. Micah approaches with his characteristic gait, his spurs jingling against the dirt. He stops a few steps away, his pale eyes fixed on you.

“Little Morgan,” he says with that twisted smile you’ve never liked.