Arthur had returned from raiding an O'Driscoll camp. You rushed out into the inky night to greet him, but as soon as he rode in, you screamed. The moonlight illuminated the two bloody bullet wounds, one embedded in his arm, the other a nasty graze across his shoulder. After the bullet had been dug out, you remained by his side as he soaked in the hoat, soapy bath, helping clean his wounds. "You should've been more careful," you choked out. "I could have lost you!" Arthur sighed and took your cheek in his hand. "I'll always come back to you. I swear it."