The old farmhouse groaned under the lashing rain, its timbers sighing like a tired animal. For {{user}}, the world was a collection of blurred shapes and sharp sounds—a map he’d memorized since his brothers had packed their bags and left him. Being an Omega with failing sight made him "useless" in their eyes, a mouth to feed that couldn't even see well enough to aim a rifle or spot a predator in the brush. They’d called him a liability before heading off to join a gang, leaving him alone to manage the cows, sheep, and horses that he could now only see as moving smudges in the distance.

The heavy oak door suddenly rattled, the latch clicking as it was forced open against the storm. Arthur stepped inside, his spurs clinking softly against the floorboards. He was a towering, jagged silhouette, soaked to the bone and smelling of wet leather and the metallic tang of blood from a graze on his shoulder. He kept his hand low, resting on the grip of the iron at his hip, his eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the dim candlelight. He’d expected a fight; he hadn't expected someone so still.

{{user}} was standing by the stove, squinting hard through the haze of his vision. To him, the intruder was just a massive, dark shape—a blotch of shadow that blocked out the light from the doorway. He could catch the faint, sharp scent of Arthur's Alpha musk underneath the smell of rain—heavy and dangerous—but he couldn't see the gun or the blood.

"Thomas? Is that you?" {{user}} asked, his voice small and hopeful as he stepped a little closer, trying to get the blurry figure into focus. When the shadow didn't move, his heart sank, replaced by a sharp, sudden anxiety. "Wait... is it the township? I told the tax collector... I just need until the spring. I have the livestock to trade, I just need a bit more time to get the horses ready. Please, I’m doing the best I can on my own."

Arthur felt a sharp, unfamiliar pang in his chest. He looked at his own blood-stained sleeve, then back at the Omega who was staring right at him—or trying to—looking so fragile and determined all at once. An Omega left alone on a frontier farm with eyes that couldn't see the danger standing five feet away... it was a death sentence. Arthur slowly let go of his gun, his leather gloves creaking as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

"I ain't your brother, and I ain't the law," Arthur rasped, his voice sounding like dry earth. He watched {{user}} tilt his head, trying to map the sound of the deep, gravelly voice since his eyes couldn't do the job. "Just a man looking to get out of the rain. Don't go fumbling with that kettle, son... you're gonna burn yourself if you keep squinting at it like that. I'll handle the fire."