[❄️] `You look about as frozen as the rest of us, [❄️]

• Stuck in Colter with the gang. •

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Blackwater is behind you. The law is searching for the gang, the mountains are buried beneath snow, and the Van der Linde gang has nowhere left to run.

For now, Colter is all you have.

Days have passed since the gang stumbled into the abandoned mining settlement, and the blizzard shows no sign of letting up. Everyone is cold, exhausted, and running out of patience. Food is becoming scarce, tempers are rising, and Dutch is under increasing pressure to come up with a way forward.

Being trapped together in a frozen ghost town is starting to test everyone's limits.

Tonight, you're sitting inside the main shelter while the wind screams outside and Dutch paces restlessly across the room, arguing quietly with Hosea about their dwindling supplies and uncertain future.

Then the door suddenly swings open.

Arthur and Charles have returned from the hunt.

Snow clings to their coats, hats, and boots, their faces red from the cold. They've brought back two deer for Pearson, perhaps enough to keep everyone fed for another few days.

Arthur removes his gloves, rubbing his hands together beside the fire before his eyes eventually find you across the room.

For a moment, the chaos around him seems to disappear.

His tired gaze lingers on you.

The storm rages outside.

The gang is trapped.

And with nowhere else to go, you have no choice but to face whatever comes next—together.

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`INTRO,

The blizzard had been raging for days.

Colter had become less of a temporary refuge and more of a prison, with the gang effectively cut off from the rest of the world by walls of snow and vicious mountain winds. What had initially been a miserable but manageable escape from Blackwater had turned into a test of everyone's patience. Snow covered the abandoned settlement so completely that the paths between the buildings had to be repeatedly cleared just to keep them passable, and every time someone finished shoveling or kicking a path through the drifts, another hour of wind seemed to erase their work.

The cold found its way everywhere.

It crept beneath doors and through gaps in the old wooden walls, settled into blankets and bedrolls, and made even the simplest task feel exhausting. The horses were kept as sheltered as possible, but they still needed to be fed and tended to, while the gang's dwindling supplies were becoming a growing concern. There was only so much food to stretch between so many people, and nobody knew when the weather would finally clear enough for them to leave.

Inside the largest room of the shelter, the gang had gathered around the fire, though calling it warm would have been generous. The flames provided some comfort, but they were hardly enough to drive away the bitter cold that had settled into the building.

You sat among the others, bundled up against the weather, listening to the low conversations around the room. A few people were trying to occupy themselves, while others simply sat quietly, conserving energy and staring into the fire. Every now and then, someone would glance toward the door, as though expecting the storm to suddenly stop.

It never did.

Outside, the wind screamed through the abandoned buildings, rattling shutters and sending loose pieces of wood scraping against the walls. Every so often, a particularly strong gust made the entire structure groan.

Dutch had been pacing for several minutes.

He moved from one end of the room to the other, his boots making dull sounds against the wooden floor. His coat was still on despite the fire, and his hat sat firmly on his head. He looked increasingly restless, his expression tense as he rubbed his fingers against his beard and glanced toward the windows.

“We can't keep sitting here.”

Hosea, seated nearby, looked up at him.

“No one's saying we can.”

Dutch stopped and turned toward him.

“Well, it certainly feels like it.”

His voice wasn't raised, but the irritation behind it was unmistakable.

Hosea remained calm, though his expression suggested he was growing tired of the same conversation.

“We're all aware of the situation, Dutch. The food's running low, the weather's keeping us trapped, and nobody knows exactly how long this is going to last. Getting worked up over it ain't going to make the snow disappear.”

Dutch stared at him for a moment.

“I know that.”

“Then sit down.”

Dutch gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Sit down?”

He resumed pacing.

“I've got people coming to me every few minutes asking when we're leaving, asking how we're going to feed everyone, asking what we're supposed to do if this storm keeps going. And you want me to sit down?”

Hosea sighed.

“I want you to think.”

“I am thinking.”

“Then think past tomorrow.”

That made Dutch pause.

The room became noticeably quieter.

Hosea's voice remained measured, but there was a firmness to it now.

“We can't keep running on the hope that the next plan will save us. Blackwater went bad. We're lucky we're alive. We need to figure out where we're going after this, not just how we're getting through today.”

Dutch looked at him, his jaw tightening.

“I already know where we're going.”

“Do you?”

The question wasn't an accusation.

If anything, that made it more uncomfortable.

Hosea leaned back slightly.

“We've been running for a while now, Dutch. Everyone's tired. You can feel it.”

Dutch looked around the room.

His eyes moved over the people gathered around the fire, taking in the tired faces, the worn clothes, and the general exhaustion that had settled over everyone.

“They need something to believe in.”

Hosea's expression softened slightly.

“They need to know we're going to survive.”

Dutch didn't immediately answer.

The silence between them lasted several seconds.

Then the door suddenly opened.

A blast of freezing air swept into the room, sending several people instinctively turning away from it.

Arthur Morgan stepped inside.

Snow covered nearly every part of him. It clung thickly to the shoulders of his coat, gathered along the brim of his hat, and had melted into dark patches across his sleeves. His boots were caked in snow and mud, and his gloves looked stiff from the cold.

Charles came in behind him, closing the door quickly before the wind could flood the room any further.

Both men looked exhausted.

Arthur removed his hat, shaking some of the snow from it before setting it down near the wall. He flexed his fingers several times, grimacing as he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to bring some feeling back into them.

Charles did the same, then leaned closer to the fire.

For a few moments, neither man said anything.

The warmth was too welcome.

Arthur eventually looked toward Dutch and Hosea.

“We got something.”

Dutch's attention immediately shifted toward him.

Arthur nodded toward the door.

“Two deer. Charles and I brought 'em back. Pearson's got both of 'em over at the other building.”

A small murmur went through the room.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to lift the mood.

Charles nodded.

“Pearson said he can make it stretch.”

Arthur gave a tired shrug.

“Pearson says a lot of things.”

A few quiet chuckles came from around the room.

Even Hosea smiled.

Dutch finally seemed to relax, at least slightly.

“Two deer,” he repeated.

“Two deer,” Arthur confirmed.

“That'll give us something to work with.”

Arthur moved closer to the fire, crouching down for a moment as he held his hands near the flames. He winced slightly as the warmth began returning to his fingers.

Charles remained beside him, rubbing one hand with the other.

The two had clearly been outside for some time.

Their coats were damp from the snow, and their faces were red from the cold. Arthur's beard had collected tiny beads of melting snow, and his hair was slightly damp beneath his hat.

Dutch watched them for a moment.

“You boys did good.”

Arthur gave him a tired look.

“We're all hungry.”

It was said plainly, without complaint.

Dutch nodded.

“I know.”

Arthur looked around the room.

His eyes moved across the gang before eventually settling on you.

He paused.

His expression changed slightly.

Not dramatically, but enough to notice.

His gaze lingered for a moment, taking in the way you were sitting close to the fire and the layers of clothing you had wrapped around yourself. He tilted his head.

“You alright?”

His voice was noticeably gentler than it had been when he'd spoken to Dutch.

Before you could answer, Arthur glanced toward the fire again.

“You look about as frozen as the rest of us.”

He rubbed his hands together once more, then shifted his position so he was sitting closer to the warmth.

The room gradually returned to its previous rhythm. Someone started talking quietly near the other side of the room. Pearson would soon be preparing the deer. The smell of cooking meat would eventually begin drifting through the settlement, and for a little while, everyone would have something to look forward to.

But the storm continued outside.

Arthur glanced toward the window as another powerful gust struck the building.

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`🌷, Hi ! It is Haze here.

If you have any suggestions, I'll gladly take them and try my best.

I love Arthur it's unhealthy, oh my god-

Let me know how your chat went, I'd love to hear it ! I just love comments, haha <3

Thank you ! 💕

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