Arthur couldn't draw enough breath to scream as he felt the branches at his throat twitch and the edges of his vision blinked white.

The deer charged, golden antlers dropped low and plowed into the dark tree as it strangled him. It bleated, loud and frightful, pulling back to rear up and smash its cloven hooves down onto the coiled roots at Arthurs' feet. It roared as it rammed back into the body of the tree. Thrashing and raking it's powerful antlers against the trunk till it's dense bark cracked and splintered off, allowing the prongs to penetrate its flesh.

This time the branches recoiled.

Arthur sucked in a large gasp of air as he tumbled to the ground.

Glancing over, he saw the Deer had skewered the trunk of a particularly menacing looking, craggy old tree. A black ooze seeped from the bark and a rattling whine, like creaking floorboards, groaned out of the tree as it shuttered.

Arthur climbed up on his hands and knees and drew his pistol. He aimed for the hole the deer's antlers had pierced and emptied his weapon.

The branches dropped to the ground, twitching once then lay still.

Arthur sagged in relief as he untangled himself from the trees remains.

The deer walked towards him, looking him over before making eye contact.

A deep satisfying sense of peace passed through him as he gazed back into the dark eye. He got the impression he was being appraised, and most shocking of all, he felt its approval. As tho Arthur lived up to some kind of expectation.

"It's because you have." a man said, drawing Arthurs attention away from the deer.

Arthur stood up on shaky legs, ready to defend himself. The golden deer pressed against him, steadying him as he gained his footing.

"and just who the hell are you?" Arthur asked the newcomer, none too pleasantly, tho under the circumstances he felt justified.

The strange man hummed looking away. "Someone who knows you rather well. You and those around you."

Arthur hackles rose defensively and the deer next to him planted it's feet firmly and lowered it's head threateningly.

"You misunderstand me. I do not mean you or those around you any harm."

"Then what the hell are you doing? and what the hell was that?" Arthur gestured towards the perverse tree.

"The manifestation of a very powerful force in your life. One quite bitter about the changes that have been made."

"You're not making any sense, friend"

"Then I shall speak plainly. You, Mr Morgan were fated to die by Tuberculosis or by Micah's hand. It was your destiny... but" he trailed off as he took sweeping steps over to the dark tree. "But you have quite literally beaten fate. Not just you but the others. By becoming free of the toxin called Micah you have all grown in surprising ways."

The man turned back to Arthur. "You selflessly chose to give your life for others. Your brother chose to value life over gold and your father chose to turn his back against revenge. You have ALL chosen a different path... and as a result, your destiny is now changed. It is wide open to you and yours, Mr Morgan. Your fate is your own."

"I don't understand, what's that mean?"

"You will... There is something coming, Mr Morgan. Something that will change your life forever."

Arthur was stymied by the vague response. The deer huffed next to him, sharing the sentiment.

"Look mister, I've been vomiting up blood, I'm fairly sure that isn't something people just shrug off."

"Under normal circumstances perhaps but the doctor was wrong about the TB."

"Wrong? Then what do I have?"

"There isn't a name for it yet. In the future, it will be called Mallory-Weiss."

"Mallory?"

"If it helps, some 80% of those with it are men."

"It doesn't but thanks."

"Mallory-Weiss is also called gastro-esophageal laceration syndrome," he went on. "refers to bleeding from a laceration in the mucosa at the junction of the stomach and esophagus. It's caused by excessive drinking, smoking, vomiting, coughing and shouting. This is all coupled alongside a persistent flue that turned into pneumonia. Together it exacerbated your symptoms and the doctor confused your condition with TB. But it will pass and you will heal."

Arthur's brow pinched up in confusion "If it's caused by drinking how come Uncle don't have it?"

The man chuckled, "I quite enjoy you Mr Morgan. I know you don't understand me now but it doesn't matter."

The man looked to the deer before smiling and walking away. "It's an appropriate reflection of you Mr Morgan. They are providers of sustenance and warmth. So many people are able to survive because they exist. They are gentle and calm but also wild and capable of great ferocity. As an artistic outlaw, this duality suits you rather well."

Arthur looked to the deer. Something in him preened, a pride at somehow belonging to this animal.

"Great things are on the horizon Mr Morgan but first, you need to wake up... the others are waiting for you." by the time he looked back, the strange man was gone.

Arthur heard a soft voice drolling on in the rhythmic pattern of reading. A soothing deep tenner voice he recognized as soon as his foggy brain focused on the meaning of each word.

'Hosea?' Arthur tried to say but no sound came out. Just his lips moving. The voice continued reading, undisturbed.

Arthur opened his eyes slowly and swallowed.

That had been a mistake, he gasped as his raw, dry, abused throat began to protest his movements.

"Arthur?" Hosea asked quickly, through the inhale of a gasp. As much as he wanted to, Arthur couldn't respond. His throat burned with a dry fire. His hand rubbed at his neck almost expecting to find a long gash across his trachea.

"Lenny, get Charles." A slight tremble in Hosea's his voice gave away just how worried he was.

He heard a shuffling as someone got up and left the tent.

Arthur tried to speak again but a warm hand cupped his face, startling him from the next attempt.

"shush shush, son, don't speak. It's alright. You don't need to say anything."

Arthur settled for nodding and Hosea seemed to relax.

"You're going to be alright, son. The fever has passed. The doctor was wrong, you do not have Tuberculosis. You're going to be ok. You'll be just fine, my boy," The words felt rehearsed like a mantra. Something Hosea had been repeating to himself over and over again. Tho the sentiment was sincere enough that Arthur relaxed and believed him.

The tent flapped open again and Charles and Lenny came into view.

Charles smiled down at him, a relieved pleasant smile. "Hows he doing?" he asked Hosea.

"Um, he looks to be having some difficulty speaking."

"that's understandable, does it hurt to nod?" He asked.

He shook his head no

Charles helped prop Arthur up and motioned for Hosea to hand him the cup of water on the nightstand.

"I've been doing a lot of reading lately." He explained holding up the cup to Arthurs chapped lips. "and it turns out boiling water is a way to make it safe to drink. Tho you don't have to worry, it's cooled down since we boiled it." He slowly began pouring a few meager splashes into his mouth. "Easy." He murmured, "Not too much."

It was too much but also not enough at the same time. It burned as he swallowed but also soothed the firey cracks that lined the inner walls of his throat. It felt heavily despite the pain.

Charles allowed him a few more sips to lubricate his throat, enough where Arthur felt he could attempt to speak again.

"Howdy fellas."