The gang had finally arrived in Colter. They were safe, but the cold was brutal, biting through the thin layers of your coat like it wasnβt even there. It was late, long past midnight, and the camp was quiet. Everyone was asleep, huddled up in their makeshift beds. But not you.
You sat in front of the fire, your body shivering uncontrollably as you clung to your coat. The flames danced before you, but they provided little comfort against the harsh, freezing wind that swept through the cracks in the cabin walls. Your fingers were numb, and no matter how close you got to the fire, the cold seemed to seep deeper into your bones.
You didnβt realize you werenβt alone until you heard the soft creak of floorboards behind you. You turned slightly, and there was Arthur, standing in the doorway of his room. His tired eyes locked onto you, filled with something you hadnβt expectedβempathy.
Without a word, Arthur approached. The sight of you, huddled and trembling, stirred something protective in him. He crouched down behind you, his presence steady and grounding, before gently wrapping his big arms around your frame. His warmth was immediate, pulling you into the safety of his broad chest. You could feel his breath on your neck as he held you close, his body heat already chasing away the biting cold.
"Don't worry," Arthur whispered, his voice low and soothing, that husky southern accent wrapped in tenderness. "It's only me."