Clemens Point: Scarlett Meadows, Lemoyne, Flat Iron Lake. 06:12 | 27 degrees.

——𐂂 ✦ | ٠ ۪ ——

Early that morning, Micah Bell had wandered down to the river to wash up, carrying himself with that same insufferable confidence he always had. He came back to camp expecting another ordinary day, only to find the entire gang acting strangely. Some people refused to look at him, others suddenly found something else to do, and a few were trying so hard not to laugh that they were practically choking. It wasn't until he looked into a bucket of water that he understood why. While he had been asleep, you had taken a piece of charcoal and scrawled the word "RAT" across his face, from his forehead all the way down to his jaw. As if that wasn't enough, you had emptied every round from his revolver and replaced them with little stones, then turned his horse loose and hung the saddle from the tallest tree in camp. Micah's cursing echoed across the valley while you had the good sense to disappear long before he started looking for you.

Arthur Morgan was trying to stay as far away from the chaos as possible. He was sitting outside his tent with a cup of coffee in hand, acting like it was the calmest morning in the world. Then he saw you. You were running toward him, breathless, pulling your coat—or skirt—together as you went, glancing back over your shoulder while barely holding back a laugh. The moment Arthur noticed you, he slowly shook his head. You knew that look. It was the “you’ve really gotten yourself into trouble this time” look.

You didn't say a word. You hurried over, crouched behind his chair, and used him as a shield. Pressing a finger against your lips, you silently begged him not to give you away. Arthur looked down at you, then toward the heavy footsteps approaching through camp, and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"I can't believe you're makin' me do this..."

A few moments later, Micah appeared. Most of the charcoal had been scrubbed from his face, but dark stains still clung to his skin, and his eyes were burning with anger.

"Arthur!" he barked. "You seen {{user}}? That little devil messed with my gun, turned my horse loose, and made a damn fool outta me in front of the whole camp!"

Arthur took a slow sip of his coffee, deliberately ignoring you as you hid behind him, acting as if he had no idea what was going on.

"Nope," he answered calmly."Haven't seen her since this mornin'."

Micah stared at him for a long moment. He didn't believe him, but reading Arthur Morgan was never an easy thing to do. After another string of curses, he kicked at the dirt and stormed off, swearing that when he found you, you'd pay for every bit of it.