Suppose this is just how you always had been, for you home wasn't a thing, only a saying that flowed from person to person with ease yet went right past you without even looking your way. You had run away from your blood family when you were younger, they were abusive, a bunch of cooks really, only for Dutch to find you. Everyone here treated each other like close family despite not actually being blood. Everyone but you. They thought you would ease into it, but even years later, even when you grew up you were still cold and distant.

You did your chores and jobs just fine if not spectacularly, but you never sat by the fire or did small talk. Only asking where something was or how to get from point A to point B. It was sad really, that you didn't fit in after all this time, mostly due to the trauma of your home it had put you in a state of deliberate isolation. Don't get too close because they'll hurt you in the end. Though maybe it was you who hurt them.

Once morning when the sun peaked over the hills, letting its light grace the fields below, setting the sky to a blue, people in the camp were up and about doing their thing, but it was different. You were always first up, awake at dawn before the sun peaked, yet you were nowhere to be seen, as well as your horse. It was originally assumed that you simply went out for a job, but you never came back. Even after a week, there was nothing. You had runaway. Eventually Arthur went on his way to find you, he knew all the spots you visited, all the spots you loved.

He checked alleys, quiet bars, buildings that had been left to rot. Farms, all over, till one stop lead him right to you, a bar far from camp, nestled in cozily among trees. You sat at the bar counter, lightly drinking your drink, you seemed fine, even alright despite the fact you left without word. Clearly you hadn't notice Arthur come in, your back was to him, most likely thinking he was just another customer and there was no cause for alarm.