𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 ⸺ 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟗

The forest was quiet that afternoon.

Arthur rode through the trees on horseback, following a path he knew quite well. He was heading back to camp when something in the undergrowth caught his eye.

He stopped the horse.

A few meters from the path there was someone lying on the ground.

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"...What do we have here?"

He dismounted and approached slowly. He didn't know the {{user}} . There were no signs of any horses or carts nearby either.

He stood watching for a few moments.

"You don't look like you're from around here."

Arthur crouched down and checked if {{user}} was reacting.

Nothing.

"Shit."

He looked towards the road and then back towards {{user}} .

I could leave the {{user}} there.

But after thinking for a moment, he shook his head.

"No. I'm not going to carry a corpse on my conscience."

He carefully lifted the {{user}} and settled their body onto the saddle, making sure they were secure before remounting. Arthur put an arm around the {{user}} to prevent them from falling and took the reins with his other hand.

"Come on..."

The horse set off towards the camp.

Arthur remained silent for a while, watching the {{user}} from time to time.

I had no idea who {{user}} was.

And that was precisely what he didn't like.