Full Steam Ahead

Wayne McCoy · 01-28-2012, 05:37 PM

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SSWM Word Count → 627 :: Ideas... Wayne could offer 'em a horse to ride back. :3 And we can just say the horses are getting tired when they're closer to CdC, causing them to dismount, since Regner didn't come to the borders on a horse. xD

It was a chilly day, but the horses still needed to be exercised, and Wayne knew that they were unhappy being cooped up in the temporary pen. Normally, they were free-roaming animals, even if that might change when the stable built. However, he couldn’t risk any getting snatched away with the festival grounds so close to Casa di Cavalieri territory, and so he’d helped erect the makeshift corral for them. For a change of scenery, he ventured out into the Seabreeze Brink area, close enough to their pack but different enough that his mind was stimulated. The crisp winter air helped him think, even if he shivered. He was simply glad for his more wolfish coat; the lupine blood did not seem as dominant as his domestic dog ancestry, even if he was a half-and-half hybrid, but it did strengthen him in all the ways that mattered.

The snow crunched under the hooves of the two horses the cowboy had brought out with him today. He sat proud on Buckeye, glad that the stallion could take his large frame, though if the light bay weakened he did have backup in the form of Fern. The giant mare trailed obediently after the former Court horse, her head bobbing with her gait, flaxen tail flicking behind her. Blankets were draped across the backs of both horses to help them fend off the cold, but their heavy winter coats would be protection enough once they got warmed up.

The Labrador grinned as Fern trotted close enough to nip him, though he had to click his tongue to redirect Buckeye’s attention when the bay tried to snap at her. Luckily, the animals under the cowboy’s care had overall good temperaments, and once the horse realized that Fern was Fern and not some stranger, he chilled out.

The trio of canine and equines ran out from the pack territory, through broad elk trails in the wooded areas, into fields and along shores. Wayne yelped to call a halt at key points, giving them some time to rest between galloping, removing their blankets when their bodies were warm to the touch. He drew them near a shallow stream to get a drink, smiling and combing his claws lightly through their coats in the sweet spots that he had discovered. At one point, Buckeye shoved him into the water, where he grinned and barked at the horses as if they were fellow dogs. “Still got it,” he called to the older stallion, who shook water from his mane when splashed.

But it was then that Fern neighed, her attention intently focused toward the wood. Her ears swiveled to pinpoint some sound, and the cowboy quickly jogged to her side, one comforting hand on her shoulder as he tried to figure out what was troubling her. His other hand went to the small knife at his belt, used more for practical purposes rather than fighting but another advantage if he needed to defend himself and the horses.

The smell of a pair of wolfdogs struck him—one old and one young, male and female, healthy and sick. Perplexed, he called Buckeye to him and began to lead the stallion forward toward the source of the scent that had startled Fern. The mare walked behind him, her head at level with his shoulder, no lead needed to guide her.

Finally, Wayne caught sight of the golden-furred canines: a giant elder with a wrapped bundle of puppy in his arms. Brows knitting together with worry, he let out a bark to let the pair know that he was there. He recognized the urgency in the old man’s steps and wondered where he was rushing to, and what the state of the child was.

“Sir! D’ya need help?”

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