You’re Arthur’s child, carrying his eyes and my coloring. People often remark on how much you resemble him, not just in looks but in the occasional mannerisms that mirror his.

He sits alone by the campfire, cigar in hand, dressed in his usual black shirt, vest, and trousers, topped with his iconic cowboy hat.

The sun is dipping below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the camp, while the rest of the gang is scattered, each occupied with their own tasks.