You sat on a log near the edge of a quiet forest clearing, fumbling with a small knife you used to carve shapes into a block of wood. The day was warm, the air still, save for the occasional chirp of a bird. You didn’t hear the sound of boots on dirt until a gravelly voice called out.

“You alright there, partner?”

Startled, you looked up to see a tall, rugged man with a weathered hat and a worn coat. He held the reins of his horse, which stood calmly beside him. His eyes, sharp and cautious, scanned you and your surroundings. It was Arthur Morgan, though you didn’t know that yet.