December 30th. For Orin! Set at Clements Park, late afternoon. c: 383 words.

Though Foxglove knew that she was skirting awfully close to claimed territory, the gypsy hybrid continued her ride, breathing deeply to inhale the heavy, salty scent of the ocean. She had passed among the motley of trees that she was frequently wandering, and she had studied the strange mix of earthen brown, ashen black, and snowy white trunks with interest. The dusting of snow on the ground did not seem to bother her horse, and so the side-saddle rider did not think anything of it as they moved fluidly as one being, gypsy and mount, between the contrasting trees.

A bird took off, a loud squawking sound accompanying the rustling of the trees, and Foxglove murmured softly to the mare, calming her after the disturbance the bird caused. She could not speak the language of the horses, but they seemed to have a relationship of mutual respect and tenderness. She was fond of the mare, and she knew that the horse cared for her; it was obvious in the small gestures, the nuzzling of her mare's nose into the hybrid's shoulder and neck, the way she snorted when Foxglove spoke to her. The horse had a sense of humor, certainly, and the tribal wolfdog was glad she had come to have her.

It had been work, getting the horse. She had come from the stables of Phoenix Valley, though the pack no longer existed, earned through the exchange between allies of help rebuilding after the destructive snow storm. Foxglove had not been present for the storm; she had returned shortly afterwards. She had been glad to be gone for it, and she had been proud to help her tribe rebuild and also to help continue to forge the alliance between the tribe and the Valley pack. How had she been repaid, though? With violence and betrayal, that was how.

She sighed, slowing her mount as she approached a strange place. There were pieces of metal and wood, long and colorful, the skeletons of old human attractions. The cages intimidated her, made her think of the time she had spent locked away in the cabin in the tribe's lands, and instinctively she rubbed at her raw wrists, holding herself tightly as she did so. "What is this place?" she asked aloud, expecting no response.