Maybe he need a cowboy hat, the lanky hybrid though as he looked down at the book. The pages were worn and tattered at the edges, and a faded yellow color. But all books seemed to be as such, he didn’t really know that at one time they were a soft texture and a snow white color. He looked at the picture on the page, a whip in the human hands and a stallion on the other end of the lead he held. The two stood in a ring, not unlike the one that sat among the stables. It was the whip that agitated him, even more then the hat the male human wore. They all seemed to wear one, but the wolf found that he worked well with the large beasts without the ten-gallon hat, and without the whip for that matter.
Heath morte dre Soul sat on the fence, his back to the world that lived outside of the new world he had entered a few weeks prior. Eyes on the horses that prowled the long sweet grasses, they were few and hardly a herd but Heath felt them as family. This was a new place, among the hoofed creatures that took quarters in the stables. The male found that he would rather sleep among straw then in the dug out dens or caves his species was used to. There was only one that could draw him out of this world; it was why he had strung the wind chime by the door that led to the small loft tucked above the horses keep. It was his place, but only because no one else had wanted to claim it or even bother to find it.
Closing the book, Heath let out a whistle. High and ending low, the call went out to the mare that had claimed him. Heath took no ownership to the mare, but she had found him as her own possession. Lumière heard his plea, as he was sure she thought of it, and graciously trotted to him. The other took no notice, the stallion that Haven kept, but seemed to find the mare’s company pleasant and even enjoyable. Dark eyes looked at him, and her long nose moved under his dark hued paw. He didn’t need a whip, for a horse that found no fear in the presence of a wolf or yote was tame enough.
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