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High as a buck, low as a wolf.
A buck had to keep its head high, it's nose clean, to stay out of danger.
A wolf had to keep itself low, snout down, to be able to survive.
Both beasts of different nature's, different builds, different lives.
Opposites, they were.
It was easy for some to choose their path, to have their head held high, proud to be the way they were or to have their head low, hiding, and waiting for the perfect moment to ambush and strike.. to choose which beast they wished to be in life.
Arthur was a beast. He knew this. Dutch and Hosea did too.
Ever since the young boy was 14 or 15, he was... unstable. Anger issues and PTSD he got from his father and from his time on the streets.
He snapped, cried, bit and fought them daily, but they were patient for the most part. The poor kid had to learn how to manage his emotions and to control himself in certain situations or else it could get him killed.
It could get them all killed.
Hosea told Dutch to be nice even as Arthur ran off into the woods, disappearing for a few hours before coming back with a silent apology and a rabbit. A rabbit that always looked like it was killed by a wolf.
It confused the older men, but they always had it for dinner and didn't question much. The kid must have found it.. but how? Usually if a wolf killed something, it would eat it. But the rabbits were always fresh and there was no sign of damage other than the teeth marks that killed it.
They figured out why a few months later.
Dutch and Hosea have seen many a strange thing around. From bones of very large creatures from the past, to things in the sky, to spirits stuck on earth. The two older men have been all over the map together. So to see a creature covered in sandy blonde fur like a wolf, but with small antlers on its head wasn't too big of a shock.
What shocked them the most was that this creature… Was Arthur?
The pup whimpered and whined, terrified and upset. He let his emotions get the better of him and he shifted while at the river with him and his two guardians.
It was meant to be a fishing trip followed by baths, for them all. But Arthur got worked up over a smell or sight… no one really knew, as Arthur didn't speak much about his trauma. It didn't really matter, as Hosea and Dutch needed to think about what was right in front of them.
And that? Was a sandy blonde wolf pup named Arthur. Their son.
They stared at him, exchanging glances.
Hosea chuckled, "Well damn. That makes more sense now.."
Dutch did the same, "Mhm. Plenty. A werewolf, of sorts?
"Suppose so. With antlers though. That's a little odd." Hosea hummed, rubbing his chin.
"A little odd is this whole situation, Hosea." Dutch sat on a nearby rock, wearing only his pants and boots with a fishing rod in hand, "Can he even understand us?"
Hosea knelt down, beckoning Arthur to come towards him, the calming and trusting nature of the man was welcoming to many. It made him one hell of a con man. "Come here, son. We're not gonna hurt you."
Arthur looked around before whining and carefully walking up to Hosea. His fur was greasy and matted in places. He needed a brush, as he did in his human form.
Hosea smiled and pet him behind the ears, "This is truly fascinating. A werewolf. A shifter. Was your father also one? Your mother?"
Arthur huffed softly through his nose, slowly shifting back to a human, once he was calm enough to do so. He hugged his knees as he leaned against Hosea, who held him gently, "My father was.. my mother wasn't and had no clue. My father died by a group of trophy hunters.. he deserved every bullet they put in him..."
Hosea nodded, glancing up at Dutch briefly, "We aren't like that. We wouldn't dare hurt you like that.."
Dutch nodded and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, "That's right, son. You're family. Family protects family."
Arthur looked up at them both with his blue eyes before nodding softly. This was his family now.
It took them another week before they realized that they had to teach him to fight like a human, instead of letting him fight like a wolf.
They ran into some bandits trying to steal from them and Arthur, surprised and scared, shifted and brutally murdered the three, ripping them apart.
A wolf pup he was, but a shifter he was too. So he was much bigger than any wolf pup they've ever seen. That meant when he was older, he would be damn near three times the size of a normal adult wolf.
Hosea and Dutch thanked him but also agreed he couldn't be doing that.
"Son, we're gonna teach you how to fight like a person. So no more shifting until you can fight and handle your own as a human. Got it?" Dutch explained, as they headed back to their camp.
Arthur nodded, willing to learn and please his guardians. His father's.
_____________________________
Learn and please he did. By the age of 22, he was a fantastic gunslinger, helping Dutch and Hosea with scores and robberies. They proudly called him a part of the family. They proudly called him their son.
Soon enough, they found another young man. One whose father was hung and he was damn near next.
He was just a kid, at 14. He had potential and purpose. He didn't deserve to hang like his father.
So when that lever was pulled and the floor dropped beneath him, he thought his life was over. Sobbing as he pleaded until he couldn't breathe.
But that rope was cut.
Well, not cut.
Shot.
The gunshot that saved his life sent everyone around into a frenzy and a panic.
And the young boy hit the dirt, gasping for breath, scrambling to look around and see the commotion.
Everyone ran as police tried to navigate who the criminals were and where, but it was damn near impossible as two slipped away, and the third grabbed the young boy and made their escape using the panicked people as a cover.
The young boy was put on a horse, someone climbing on behind him, as they popped the reins and had the horse bolt away from town.
He panted and coughed, bruising already showing around his throat from the rope.
The sandy blonde man that saved him was sitting behind him, their bodies close on the saddle, as he took shortcuts through heavy trees, seemingly not knowing where he was going.. but he did. It was a zig zag way back to their camp.
"Ya ok, kid?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence, "Surprised it didn't take ya head off with how hard it yanked ya."
The boy swallowed, calming down, rubbing where he felt the rope yank him tight, "Yea.. yea.. 'm good.."
"What's your name, boy?" Arthur asked.
"Mm…." He paused, "John… John Marston.."
"Well, John Marston. I'm Arthur. Arthur Morgan." He smiled softly, jawline fuzzy with that same blonde color, his eyes blue as he looked down at John, "You're gonna be ok, kid."
John had black hair, uncut and greasy, almost how Arthur used to be all them sum years ago. He was covered in dirt and dried blood and Arthur couldn't tell what was dirt, blood, or bruising under all that. His eyes were grey, and looked like they had lost all hope in surviving in this world. Lost all light.
And Arthur could see that. Arthur knew that feeling. He felt it and lived it before becoming a part of the Van Der Linde family.
After some time, they arrived back at camp, finding Hosea and Dutch already there, exchanging some words of colorful themes. Arthur was sure by the way they stood so close.
Once they saw Arthur's horse, they hurried over, abandoning their smitten conversation, "Glad to see you got along fine-" Dutch said, helping John off the horse, "Hello, young man. Do you have a name?"
"It's John." Arthur said, "John Marston, he says."
Hosea hummed, "Marston.. you were to be hung with your father. That's why you were up there. You poor thing. Well, don't worry. You're safe with us now."
"Come on, let's get this boy something to eat and a bath." Dutch chuckled, "He's thin as a sapling, now."
"Yea, Dutch. Ain't a lot to eat when you're poor and on the streets." Arthur said, as a nod to his past.
Hosea hurried off and got some rabbit meat from earlier in the day, sitting down by the fire to cook it properly for the young boy.
John didn't know what to think. Confused and lost. These three random men took him in, saved him, and now are offering him food and a bath? Was this a dream? Did he actually die?
Arthur chuckled at something Dutch said that John didn't hear, the boy disassociating as he stood there, before patting his shoulder, "Alright. While the ladies cook-" he joked, "I'm gonna take you down to the river for a bath. You'll feel better after, I promise." He smiled, a warm smile for such an outlaw. A murderer. A thief.
John looked up at him and nodded a bit, following Arthur through the trees before they came across a river. A stream, more like it. It was trickling down through the rocks, idly. It was peaceful. For the most part.
Arthur knelt by the water's side, it being only a couple feet deep in the middle, "Come on now. I've got some soap." He smiled again. Such a lovely smile.
John swallowed again and slowly made his way down to the water's edge. He stared at the water, watching it wash softly over the shore as it ran down stream with the rest.
Arthur took off his boots, rolling his pants up to his knees before standing and carefully stepping into the water. He looked over at the shore, "Come on now. You're as dirty as a pig a day after it rained that took a nap in the sunshine after playing in the mud."
John looked up at Arthur for a moment before carefully taking off his clothes, not wearing much but a dirty button down and some ripped pants.
Once he was naked as the day he was born, he looked at the water, taking a very hesitant step in, walking over to where Arthur stood.
The older man tilted his head, "Uh.. alright then. Sit. I'mma help ya out." He put the soap in his bag before kneeling down, getting one of his pants legs wet in the process, before cupping his hands gently and filling them with water.
"Close your eyes." He said, dropping the water on John's head, over his gross hair.
The boy flinched, breathing a bit faster.
Arthur didn't notice, soaking the boy's hair before pulling out the soap again, to scrub at the dark locks that were close to being matts.
It wasn't until after his hair was rinsed did Arthur notice he was shaking. He tilted his head to see the boy's face, "John?"
The boy's eyes were shut tight, breathing harsh and fast. Arthur couldn't tell if that was water or tears in his eyes and running down his face.
He knelt down further, "Hey, you're ok. What's going on?"
"Can't swim.." he mumbled, "Afraid of water."
It clicked for Arthur, cursing softly, "Alright, you're ok- take some deep breaths and lean your head back. I want you to look at the sky. The clouds. Got it?"
John swallowed and nodded a bit, slowly tilting his head back and looking at the blue sky and the thin clouds that littered across the canvas.
"Good job. Now I'm gonna rinse your hair- but this way it won't run in ya face no more. Alright?" Arthur explained, carefully following through and cleaning his hair.
John calmed down, liking this more, "Thanks.."
Arthur nodded before carefully going to scrub the boy's dirt and dried blood covered skin. This would take a while..
Once they were done and John was clean - bruises littering his body under the dried mud and blood making Arthur wonder if those were from everyday life or from his father - Arthur gave him an oversized shirt to wear for the time being until they got him some actual fresh clothes.
The sandy blonde brought the boy back to camp, "We're back, fruit cakes." He called, "Better be decent."
Hosea was sitting by the fire, stoking it with a laugh, "Come now, Arthur. It was one time."
"And I'll never forget it." Arthur laughed, leading John to the fire to help dry him off and warm him up.
Hosea smiled at the boy, his own blonde hair streaked with grey from being around Dutch for so long. He offered some cooked rabbit meat in a cloth, "Here, young man. Eat. You're thinner than an anemic stick bug."
John took it, looking at Hosea as if he was asking 'Are you sure?'.
Hosea nodded, "Go right ahead. There is plenty for you. Just don't go having your eyes bigger than your stomach. It would be a waste to have you throw it up afterwards."
The boy nodded a bunch before digging in.
Arthur sat down beside John, pulling a can of peaches from his satchel, the bag a new addition to his belongings. He cracked it open with his knife, a not so new addition to his belongings, and used it to pick out the fruit.
John looked over at him, studying his face.
He was very handsome.. scruffy facial hair, blue eyes, recently cut hair.. Then he noticed the sharp canines he had, sharper than any other person's he's ever met.
Interesting...
As the adults talked once again around the fire, John was lost in his mind again. Dissociating once more.
It took a few minutes, and Dutch coming back to join around the fire, before they realized he was zoned out in all their talking.
They all looked at him, "Kid?" Dutch asked first.
Hosea hummed, waving a hand vaguely in front of the boy's face, "Son?"
Arthur lifted an eyebrow, "Looks like his brain's as foggy as early morning." He put a hand on John's arm, "Aye, Johnny. Come back to us, now. Ya head 's goin elsewhere."
John blinked and looked around, "Huh?"
They all laughed, "You alright there?"
John blushed, looking down, "Yea.. uh.."
Arthur patted John's shoulder, "Hey, 's alright. We know it's odd and new. These two were here for me when I was your age. Now, we are here for you, Johnny boy."
The young boy nodded softly, looking down once more to eat the food that was given to him, listening to the adults talk as the evening slowly closed and the sun went down.
____________
Once they decided where John would sleep - with Arthur in his tent - they headed off to bed.
They gave the boy an extra cot they picked up in the past couple years. No one really cares to remember. And a couple blankets.
Arthur told him he would protect him while he slept and not to worry about it.
And John was out, sleeping in a tight ball of anxiety and an unsettled mind.
Of course, the poor boy woke because of a nightmare, looking around the dim tent. He couldn't see much, but he could see that the cot next to him was empty. He was alone.
He looked around the tent before getting up, and stepping out, looking around the small dark camp. Their three horses sleeping by a tree, the burnt out campfire in embers, the other tent that housed Hosea and Dutch quiet as the woods sounded their excitement for the night.
John stepped closer to the embers flickering in the circle of rocks hand made by one of the gang. But he froze, looking over towards the woods nearby, seeing a large figure emerge in the small clearing.
It was hunched over and covered in fur, highlighted in the moonlight, walking slowly into camp. Antlers about as large as an adult buck on top of the beast's head. And it was dragging something in, blood trailing behind.
John's breath caught in his throat, tripping over his own feet and hitting the dirt. Fear coursed through him as he scrambled backwards, away from the monster. Thoughts running through his head. The beast killed Arthur. And it was coming back for him, Hosea and Dutch.
The beast perked up, dropping the prey it supposedly caught, pure white eyes glaring directly into his soul.
John thought it was the end, curling against the ground and covering his head as he shut his eyes, shaking and crying.
But a moment later, there was a hand on his shoulder, "Johnny, boy, you're alright. What are you doing outta bed?"
John sat up and looked at who touched him.
It was Arthur. He was alive.
John grabbed onto him and hugged him tight, "There was a beast! A monster! I thought it killed you- I thought it was coming back for us-"
Arthur chuckled, "Don't worry about that beast.. he is here to protect, not harm.."
"But But but-" he hyperventilated.
"Hey, calm down 'fore ya pass out.. let's get you back to bed." Arthur picked him up, heading back towards their tent.
John held on tight, wiping his eyes and catching a glimpse of the corpse of a deer where he saw that beast seconds before Arthur saved him.
Where did that monster go?