So, it's been awhile, guys. I know, I know. Seriously, I know the indefinite hiatus has been awful and I know I promised stories, so...I recently started playing "Red Dead Redemption 2", and, my dudes? It's time for a story. This one about the regular game, obviously. But I've decided to add a character into the game for a pairing with Arthur. Yeah, it would make more sense for an Arthur/Sadie or an Arthur/Mary pairing, but screw that noise. I need an original character, from my own mind, to work with. So, let's see how this goes. Also, I don't own any of the RDR2 material, the characters, the places, yadda yadda yadda.
Chapter 1: The Snow and The Cave
It was cold. Too damn cold. The spring of 1899 decided to hold off for one last snowy blizzard of the season, and Lillian Rose O'Callaghan was not happy in the slightest. Not only was she stuck in what she described as a tundra of danger, Lilly had been separated from her group, the Van der Linde gang. After a boat robbery had gone awry in Blackwater, the posse had been forced north, chased and hounded by the law. Although Lilly was certain she was safe from marshalls and deputies, the wilderness was the forefront of her worries. And to make matters worse, her horse, Holly, had a broken leg.
While the humane thing to do would be to out the poor thing out of its misery, Lilly was torn. Having raised the Tennesse Walker as a foal, it was heartbreaking. Lilly had found what she hoped was an abandoned cave out of the storm, and had coaxed her loyal companion inside. After having settled with a small fire, Lilly held the head of Holly in her lap, rubbing the horse's neck in affection and comfort. Holly nickered in distress.
"Shh, my girl," said Lilly, in a thick Irish accent. "I know it hurts. It's going to be okay."
Lilly kissed Holly's head as tears welled up in her eyes. She knew her beloved horse would never be able to survive well with the broken leg, even when she had laced it up in a makeshift sling to keep Holly from putting weight on it. Even holding the leg steady while Holly walked on her other three limbs was physically taxing. Under different circumstances, Lilly would have stayed by her, day and night, to mend her back to health. However, as there was a horrible storm with snow up to the Irish girl's thighs, it was impossible to keep Holly alive, let alone walk around without knowing where her group was. The black mare would have to be shot.
Lilly brushed her own auburn hair back and realized her braid had become disheveled. A silly thing to notice, considering the situation. Lilly placed a flat hand on Holly's neck, then bent down to kiss it. Then she stood and turned to pull one of her revolvers out. She checked the chamber. Only four bullets left. Damn. She was low on ammo. Lilly glanced over at the saddle she had shoved in a corner, thanking the Lord above that her bow and her repeater hadn't been lost in the storm, or in the tumble down the hill that had caused her horse's fracture. Wiping a tear off her reddened cheeks, she turned back around to look at Holly. Pulling back the hammer to aim, she sniffled.
"I'm so sorry, my girl," her voice thick with grief.
A loud bang echoed throughout the cave, the noise of her horse giving a small shriek forever imprinted into Lilly's memory. Then nothing. She sank down next to her dead companion, buried her face into the still warm neck, and cried. As hardened as the girl was, Lilly always had a soft spot for animals. Perhaps it was from her rather short upbringing in Ireland. As the tears fell and left splits of wetness on Holly's fur, Lilly remembered her father. Her real father. He had been a farmer, or something. She couldn't quite grasp what he did for a living. All she could recall, really, was the story of the great famine of '79. It had caused both her parents, her little sister, and her big brother to pack up and flee for America. Or was there something more to it?
Just as the memory started to come into focus, Lilly heard a low growl. Slowly, she lifted her head to find two pairs of yellow eyes staring her down from the depths of the cave. Quickly she stood, gun raised, as the animals came into view. Wolves. The Irish girl glanced down at her horse. The smell of horse blood was faint to Lilly, but for a wolf, it would be more than enough to excite hunger. This was apparent as the wolves cackles were raided and the teeth were bared, drool dripping. The snarls and growls grew in intensity.
"Jesus Mary and Joseph," was all that Lilly could whisper as the wolves, quick as lightning, charged for her. Lilly backed up in a half run. And tripped over a rock. As she fell, she pulled the trigger on her gun.