May, 1899.

Life was hard for everyone, including you. You were all on your own, fighting for survival with no one to help you.

You were riding through The Heartlands, looking for a place to camp when you came across an already established one, people milling about.

You thought under the cover of darkness that it would be easy to steal from them, anything from food to money, but you were caught, tackled to the ground by a tall, rugged, handsome man. You were unceremoniously tied to a tree, your horse being hitched next to the others, likely belonging to the group.

You spent the whole night there, still awake by the time the sun rises.

The same man who found you approaches you, coffee cup in his hand. “Names Arthur.”

You don’t respond.

He sighs. “You gon’ say anythin’?”