Wayne yawned as he woke, only for his lids to open to a slant of brightness let in by one of his pack mates exiting the tent. He startled then, his muscular body jolting as he rocked to his feet and looked around for his jeans. It was rare that he woke any later than dawn, used to the long days of working and riding from his youth. Early risers got more work done, and even though the days were lengthening through the month, there was precious little time to get things accomplished. Stumbling into his jeans, running a hand through his messy, dull yellow hair, he tried to appear as if he hadn’t just woken.

It took him a little while to realize where he was and to register the fact that Dixie-May wasn’t in the vicinity. Remembering the festival suddenly, he broke into a grin and shook his head at himself. Of course the enthusiastic young woman would be eager to head out among the stalls and see what was up for trade and what activities were taking part in the other pack tents. Picking his cowboy hat off the ground, he slapped it on his head and walked out into the bright winter day to the smells of cooking and the sounds of chatter.

Brown eyes glanced heavenward to note that the sun wasn’t quite at its zenith; at least he could say he hadn’t slept in past noon. Glancing around at the bodies running to and fro, some gossiping with old friends from other packs, some dragging a comrade along to see something especially interesting, he wondered where his first stop should be. All too quickly the idea of actually deciding where to go overwhelmed him, and instead he meandered through the crowd toward the public corral that was closest to Casa di Cavalieri’s tent.

The young man reached the fence and leaned on it, grinning as he watched the horses socializing, most of them just as eager as their owners to meet new faces. Many of the mounts he recognized as those of their own pack, and when Fern caught his eye and whinnied at him, he laughed and hopped over into the corral to reach her side. The others wandered over to him, too, and he grinned and rubbed their muzzles and carefully greeted those he did not know. On the other side of the pen, a couple of stallions were having a spat over dominance, but the display was short-lived when they too noticed the wolfdog in their midst; one flattened its ears and walked away while the other pranced over to him eagerly.

Trust Wayne to abandon a booming party for the chance to meet some horses.

The squeal of a horse made Wayne’s head jerk up, and the equines gathered around him became alert as well. Careful not to let himself be jostled by their restless bodies, he pushed past them to see what the hell was going on. He was hesitant about throwing himself in front of a creature he didn’t know the temperament of, but he’d wrangled plenty of nasty critters before; it was mostly an issue about getting chewed out by the beast’s owner if they returned.

Seeing the stallion prancing alongside a bay mare, the cowboy paused and shook his head. It seemed that Dixie-May had been right to worry about some of the interactions that would be going on in the festival corral, especially with no one supervising the animals most of the time. He had confidence that the mounts from Casa di Cavalieri could handle themselves, especially together as a herd, but it looked like this mare was alone—except for her owner, a dark wolf woman the man spotted staring at the pair of animals in dismay.

“She yours?” Wayne called over to her even as he approached, jerking a thumb in the direction of the bay. He’d seen the stallion around earlier and could only assume that hers was the newer addition. His gaze wandered over her attire, but he made no comment on it. There were even more fancifully dressed canines among the other festival-goers, anyway, and her clothing flattered her curvaceous and strong frame. As someone used to practical wear, though, it wasn’t something that he would consider for anything less than a special occasion.

One he reached her, he reminded himself to adjust his posture slightly, not standing so powerfully, keeping his face from growing stony. He didn’t want to intimidate anyone; he was just more closed-off than most folk. The sound of another whinny as the horses gaily raced and flirted made him break into a sudden small grin, and he turned to look at them for a second.

“There’s another paddock attached to this one, I think,” the Rispetto said, nodding in the direction of the gate he thought he’d seen coming in. “We reckon we could chase one of ’em in there, get ’em separated.” He grinned.

The dark-furred woman responded defensively to his question, and a faint scowl pulled on the Labrador mutt’s face. A loud whinny and the flying legs of the bay seemed to change her stance immediately, however, and her expression grew pitiful as she entreated him to help.

Wayne chuckled lightly. Honestly, even if she had treated him like dirt, he might have helped just for the sake of the horses. But he was glad to assist someone in need; after all, good deeds were part of Casa di Cavalieri custom, motivating him in addition to the southern manners he was raised with.

When she brightened and agreed with his suggestion, quickly hurrying for the gate to the next paddock, the wolfdog nodded then surveyed the horses. The woman spread her arms wide in an attempt to get the horses to turn into the new paddock, and he contemplated hopping onto one of the Casa mounts to help. However, he didn’t have his rope and usual tack with him, and bareback riding would not be easy in this case even if the horses were trained for it.

A shout broke through his thoughts, and he grunted in agreement before adjusting his cowboy hat and began to trudge through the herd. Another canine might have balked at the chaos of the pen, but he had dived into more insane situations in his life. Keeping his posture tall and strong enough to be a deterrent for any equine wanting to run him over during this excitement, he spied the frisky stallion and the woman’s mare. They were coming along now, and he managed to lunge between them. The tactic wasn’t a polished one, and the male horse spooked, but Wayne was already speaking to him to get him to lower his hooves.

The bay, meanwhile, neighed and galloped back along with the swirl of other invigorated horses toward the paddock. He watched her among a few others run through, and then he got a better look at what was beyond the gate—

“Oh, for—” Wayne bit off his curse then raised his voice again, even as he sprinted for the wide-open gate. “That ain’t the right one!” he hollered, waving his hat in the air to get her attention. He cursed himself for not correcting her, for not more closely looking at the damn scenery; they were letting the horses free toward the rest of the festival goers!

In any other situation, the dark she-wolf’s shriek of frustration would have been highly amusing, and Wayne was sure that they would have a nice laugh about this afterward—but right now, he was all business. He yipped loudly for Fern, who obediently cantered to his side—something he didn’t trust any of the other Casa horses to do. Sure enough, one of them was on the side of the fence with the female’s mare, who’d luckily led most of them alongside the paddock as she flirted with the troublemaking stallion—the cause of this nonsense.

Even as he jogged with the giant chestnut draft at his side, he heard the young lady’s question and smirked. “Just do what you’re doin’!” he called. “Lead ’em into the right paddock if ya can. Make sure none of ’em separate from that bunch.” He made it to the gate and threw it open, allowing only Fern to get past; one hand grabbed at her flaxen tail in case she had any ideas about disobeying. “I’ll get the ones headin’ fer the lake, don’t worry.” He shot her an uncharacteristically energetic smile then grabbed for Fern’s withers, dragging herself up and onto her back. With a whoop, they galloped toward the lake.

True to his profession, Wayne knew how to drive cattle and other critters from his parents’ trade. He scanned the tents to make sure that there weren’t any strays harassing the festival-goers, but the only one who had headed that direction was shooed back to the paddock by one of the traders. He reached up to keep his hat from flying off as he urged Fern into a gallop, heading toward the lake as he trusted the woman to get the others back into the corral.

While keeping his balance was a bit of a challenge, he guided Fern excellently to cut off the horses. With barks and quick corrections of direction, he managed to herd them away from the water’s edge. It was only a matter of driving them onward until they saw the others, and group instinct made them perfectly content to join the bulk of the herd inside the gate—the right pen, this time.

It was then that he allowed himself to laugh, his breaths coming somewhat short from the exertion of running. He slipped down off Fern’s back, running his fingers through her lightly perspirating pelt, rubbing her down somewhat even as they reached the dark wolf’s side.

“That was more excitement ’n I was prepared for,” the Labrador mongrel mumbled, keeping a hand on the mare though he trusted her to be obedient from the time they’d spent together. He blinked then, breaking out into a more normal smile and extending his hand. “Pro’ly a good time for introductions now that that’s out of the way. I’m Wayne McCoy, of Casa di Cavalieri.”

Her gratitude and proffered hand made him smile in bemusement, but the man shook her paw only slightly more delicately than usual as the trinkets jingled. It was interesting how two quite different canines could be brought together in a moment of chaotic fate like this, though perhaps where it mattered they weren’t that different for the moment, both forced into action for the wellbeing of the woman’s horse. The strong horse smell that he wore like a second skin, the sound of the animals roaming in the new enclosure, that was familiar and the green-eyed lady did not detract from it like he might have thought. He truly had enjoyed himself with the little adventure, at least.

“Ain’t a problem,” Wayne managed eloquently, and he nodded as she offered her name. He couldn’t pretend to have heard much about Anathema, although surely he’d met someone from that pack at some time. It was still kind of funny how groups of luperci not all that far from each other could still be clueless about the other’s culture, but at least she had the excuse of Casa being a faction in its infancy.

He shook his head quickly, holding his hands up as if to deflect her offer of favors. He’d entertained no ideas of extracting something from her for his help, as he’d done it for the sake of the horses—and for the wild fun of it, he’d admit to himself later. “It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to accept a favor,” he said, and shook his head once more. “Like I said, ’tain’t a problem in the least. I was gettin’ bored anyway.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure what you could give me anyway,” he added, grinning.