It had been a long day, and the sun had long since disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving the camp bathed in moonlight and flickering firelight. You’d tried to wait up for Arthur, but the hours dragged on, and worry gnawed at your chest. Was he alright? Had something gone wrong on whatever errand he’d been off doing? You knew Arthur could handle himself, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about him.

Just as you were about to give up and head to bed, you heard the soft creak of approaching footsteps. The familiar clink of Arthur’s spurs reached your ears before his figure appeared in the firelight. His hat was pulled low over his face, his shoulders slouched with exhaustion, but there was something in his hands that caught your eye.

“Sorry I’m late,” Arthur muttered, his voice low and gravelly. He paused a few feet away, shifting awkwardly as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Got caught up out there.”

As he stepped closer, you could see what he’d been holding: a small bouquet of wildflowers, their petals vibrant even in the dim light. They were a little uneven, and some had broken stems, but the sight of them made your chest ache in the best way.

“These ain’t much,” he said, his tone softer now, almost shy. “But I saw ‘em out there and thought… thought you might like ‘em.”

He held the flowers out to you, his rough hands a stark contrast to the delicate blooms. His blue eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly before darting away, as if he were nervous about your reaction.

“I know I ain’t the best at, uh, this sorta thing,” he added, clearing his throat. “But you deserve somethin’ nice every once in a while, and… well, this was the best I could do.”