A Use at Last

Wayne McCoy · 05-05-2012, 07:15 PM

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Wayne was going about his duties like always, letting the normal routine take away some of the stress that had been piling on him lately. He’d been short and snappish with most of the members of the pack, and so he distanced himself accordingly, dreaming of the day that he and Dixie-May would depart for their little trip. Until then, going through the horse’s favorite section of pasture with a wheelbarrow kept his mind focused on one thing rather than letting it wander over many of the reasons he was angry lately.

He stopped, letting go of the handles, and grabbed the shovel he’d balanced across it. He scooped up a pile of dung and tossed it into the wheelbarrow, too used to the odor to care. This needed to be done, especially in this section of field, to keep wormy parasites from breeding and the grass from dying. He shoveled the last of it when a nudge at his back made him turn and smirk.

Fern had not been far from his side all day. He shouldn’t have encouraged her bothering him during his other work, but one look at her scarred legs and he knew he couldn’t deny her. After the black she-wolf had attacked, she’d been more skittish than usual, her sweetness holding almost desperation behind it. While others in the herd could learn to stand ground and fight with some training, the large chestnut mare never had been a warhorse.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slice of carrot. He’d found it and other crops growing wild in the fields beyond the territory, and the horses seemed to like them well enough. Palm up and flat, he let her nibble from his hand before she pulled back suddenly, head lifted and ears swiveling. He followed her gaze and allowed a smile to lighten his face as he saw his charge—two-legged down, awkward in adolescence but formidable and growing more each day.

“Howdy, Adelle,” Wayne greeted customarily, patting the horse’s neck.

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