Of Wolf and Man

Wayne McCoy · 01-23-2012, 10:00 PM

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Wayne held back a chuckle when the woman dismantled the television set, flat out ripping into it at some points as if she were tearing entrails out of a carcass. The pieces she pulled out looked almost like thin entrails, while much of the junk inside was small and metallic and too confusing for him to fathom. Once she had grabbed the pieces that she liked, handing him the small but hopefully useful tools, he ventured closer to the carcass of the TV and rummaged through whatever was left, finding nothing as he expected.

“Some folks just like somethin’ shiny to look at,” the cowboy said, shaking his head as he withdrew his muscular arm from the box-shaped human contraption. He glanced back at the tools then joined her in her search around the room. Perhaps he would find something interesting if he thought in less practical terms; several objects looked intriguing, and he gave them close inspection, but all in all there were few things he could use for work.

But he didn’t want to leave the house empty-pawed, and so he returned to the bookshelf once more. With how humanized the other Cavalierites were, a few of them were bound to be literate and enjoy these things. He grabbed two at random; the cover of one was mostly torn, though he could read the word “Jungle” on it. Flipping through a couple of pages, he saw a picture of gathered wolves with a tiger stalking in the foreground. The other had a horse illustration on it, which was enough for Wayne to grab it.

“So you say you’re a merchant?” the Labrador asked, glancing up to see if the woman had had any luck. “You don’t smell of any pack; do you come from Freetown?” He knew that she’d left her home for the potential in Nova Scotia, though she could have come from the trading port just as easily as from overseas. It wasn’t too far-fetched to think of a trader actively heading out among the numerous packs to exchange goods.

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