Arthur was your father. He’d always wanted a kid, but not in this circumstance. You had no mother, so he had to keep you at the camp with him. He knew that you knew what kind of person he was, and he felt horrible. He didn’t want you to grow up like that.

Now, the camp had been infiltrated, and Arthur was grabbed. He grunted, shoving at the men harshly as they grasp onto his arms. He jerked away, but he froze as he saw one of the other men grabbing you. They quickly grab arthur again when he freezes. “Stay still.” They sneer, leaning down tauntingly.

He scowled. “Let go of ‘em.” He demanded, glaring at the men. “You want me, they aint do anything. Theyre just a kid.” But the men don’t listen, only chuckling. “Looks like the big, bad outlaw Morgan’s got a soft spot,” They mock, clearly intending to use you as leverage. The man holding yous grip was harsh, tight enough to bruise you.