The festival had been entertaining, and Wayne would no doubt return to partake in more of the activities and socializing, but for now the dusty-furred man headed back to Casa di Cavalieri territory. Luckily, it was only a short journey from the Sugarwoods to get back home. Not every pack member had come to the gathering, and neither all of the horses; he wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly. Perhaps he was just paranoid, but it was also nice to see the courthouse in the distance and smell the mingled odors of his friends and comrades. Finally, the pack was beginning to feel more like home and family to the former loner. It might have been because he was digging a nice niche for himself by taking care of the horses, or that he resolved to seek training to become a true warrior Cavalierite, but much of it also was peace now that he and Dixie were together. It had seemed that the small white-furred woman cared more about the pack politics than him earlier in the winter, but that had been a ridiculous assumption he had soon gotten over. Everything was going well now.

He jogged toward the area where the remaining horses were temporarily gathered, knowing full well that they would have to start construction on the stables as soon as the snow passed. Their "herd" was growing almost faster than the pack, after all! He reached for the gate of the makeshift pen, ready to go in and check on all the steeds individually--only to find that it had already been nudged open. In their haste to get to the festival grounds, someone must have left it open. Stiffening, the wolfdog counted the equines inside and cursed quietly when he saw who was missing: Tupelo.

Quickly, he ran to Buckeye, taking the light-colored bay's halter and leading him to where the tack was kept. We need to find your friend, Wayne muttered as he cinched the saddle. Swinging himself up onto the horse's back, he set off at a ground-eating canter in the direction of the fields. The paint horse had been a gift from the Court (along with Buckeye, whom he hoped would calm the mare down once they caught up with her), and she was carrying a precious bundle. Casa would be missing two horses rather than just one if he didn't find her soon.

Luckily it was not long before Wayne caught a whiff of the missing mare. He wheeled Buckeye about slowly and followed the meandering scent trail through the territory. Even as it got fresher, he found himself swearing he would give an earful to whoever had forgotten to shut the gate completely. What he had hoped would be a simple visit to make sure the remaining horses and wolves didn't need anything had turned into a big problem he had to deal with. His irritation was only amplified by what came foremost: his concern for the pregnant mare.

When he did reach her, the young cowboy was startled to hear a defensive shout. A short redheaded wolf brandishing a stiletto faced off against the paint horse, which flattened her ears at his yelling. She seemed undecided, giving him a wide berth as she circled, while the stranger seemed violent--underneath his rider Buckeye quickened his pace, as if to defend his herdmate against the canine. Wayne growled a command for the bay to stop and dropped with ease from the saddle.

What d'ya think you're doin' with that thing? the off-yellow wolfdog demanded, throwing a glare at the other luperci and his weapon. The fiery-hued wolf at least smelled of Casa di Cavalieri, which convinced Wayne not to pummel him; he wouldn't have hesitated if this were a trespasser bothering his horses. Even after he asked the question, though, he seemed to ignore the fact that the short wolf existed. He crossed quickly to Tupelo, who shied until he offered her a handful of grain he had snatched before leaving the pen. As she nibbled from his palm, he tied a lead rope to her and pulled her over to Buckeye.

Once he was satisfied that the mare wasn't injured, the large man turned back to the other Cavalierite, scowling and crossing his arms. Well? he growled, reverting easily into that gruff persona that defined him to strangers.

Wayne stroked the mare’s tan face after she’d eaten the handful of grain and smirked as she snorted at him. He was not well versed in low speech as to the point of being fluent, but he had obviously picked up on a lot of horse body language and noises to know that Tupelo was complaining. The chestnut and white female seemed to do that quite a bit, though she was well-bred and cooperative otherwise. He wondered if most of her moodiness came from the foal growing in her white-splashed belly. Then again, she seemed glad to be out of the pen. Usually the horses of Casa di Cavalieri roamed freely around the pack lands, but with the festival-goers so close, Dixie and he didn’t want to take any chances; one of their mounts could easily be snatched up.

Satisfied that the horses were tied well together and that Buckeye wasn’t going to go charging after the redhead, the wolfdog glanced back at the short man, who copied his posture and his scowl. Dusty-yellow fur bristled at the nape of the man’s neck, but he let the other explain his intentions behind the yelling.

When the vulpine wolf spoke, however, the scowl faded from the cowboy’s lips to be replaced with a less-than-polite smirk, though the deep chuckle that rumbled out of his chest wasn’t mocking or mean. Let a pregnant mare get the best of you? he asked, though he knew full well how much of a handful she could be. He had to remind himself sometimes that the other Cavalierites weren’t as well versed with horses as he and Dixie were naturally; he was just glad they didn’t see the creatures as prey. It was inevitable that there would be some canine-equine conflicts due to misunderstandings like this one.

She was pro’ly just checkin’ you out, the man said, shrugging. Can’t vouch for her wholeheartedly since I didn’t see anything. I know she has some mettle. His smirk eased into a proper smile, one that came easier to his lips than it used to around strangers like this one. Maybe it was because he was recognizing his pack mates as friends, or because of his general good mood after Dixie-May had returned from her journey. Thought of the small cowgirl caused his hardened features to soften up even more.

Ease up, Wayne suggested, looking down at the foxy-furred man. If a horse starts roarin’ and rearin’ at ya, I can understand the knife—but Casa ain’t gonna be home to ill-bred and ill-tempered stock.

He loosened his arms finally, offering his hand to shake, ears turned back slightly in apology for his own gruffness and quick conclusions. Wayne McCoy, he introduced himself, before with a grin he swept his free hand back toward the horses. That’s Buckeye—and your pal is Tupelo. The paint mare tossed her head at the sound of her name.

Wayne was happy to be spreading some understanding, or at least wary tolerance, of the horses in the pack. He saw it as part of his duty; if he was going to care for the herd, he had to teach the others about the beasts, too, to make sure that everyone was safe and sound if not completely happy. As such, he tried to make himself understand the dubious glances the redhead continued to flash the mare’s way. Someone fairly high in the ranks such as himself had to be patient and willing to teach, after all, especially if he wanted to make his responsibilities official in the pack.

The short, lithe man introduced himself as Sebastian Auditore, and the dusty-furred man gave a quick nod. All of the foreign surnames in the pack were muddied up in his brain, but he knew he seemed just as strange to them. By now, his ears were used to hearing everything from Jazper’s Scottish and Seb’s Italian to the familiar sweet twang of Dixie-May’s drawl.

Brown eyes watched the man carefully but with some amusement as Sebastian stepped a little closer to Tupelo, greeting her until she tossed her head, at which point he leaped backwards—right into the cowboy. Molten orange eyes met his as the man tilted his head back against his chest, and a slightly crooked if caught-off-guard smirk flashed across the wolfdog’s muzzle before Seb took it upon himself to move away as Wayne was just about to.

Listen, the brawny cowboy said, his mind already working past the close encounter. If ya don’t mind walkin’ beside the horses, we could head back to the corral to get these critters penned up again. He supposed he could just as easily remove the offending equines from the jumpy Italian, but he wanted to chat a bit with the newcomer. It was one step toward being less socially awkward, at least, and he knew he would have to get to know Sebastian eventually. Might as well make the most of it now and ease some of the embarrassment the redhead was showing.

Or I could teach ya to ride, Wayne added, grinning in a potentially aggravating, teasing way.

The redhead proclaimed that he already knew how to ride, and a brow arched as Wayne glanced over at him disbelievingly. Even his clarification made no sense to the oblivious male, who only snorted at him and walked over to the horses. A hand grabbed at the light bay’s reins, pulling him a couple of steps until Buckeye paid him adequate attention. Behind her herdmate, Tupelo looked innocent, though there was an energy to her body that belied that. Though he still believed that the encounter was a nonviolent misunderstanding, the cowboy supposed he should put more stock in what Sebastian had claimed.

Silent, he checked the rope between the equines once more then glanced back over his shoulder at the lithe red wolf. Hearing the “maybe” he allowed a kind smile to overcome the gruff indifference on his squared-off visage before laughing at Seb’s conditions. No, I reckon I’ve got a better one ’n that—huge but very gentle. He gestured for the Italian to follow him as he walked toward the corral, the pace slow on foot.

Riding lessons would soon become another one of his duties, he supposed. Fern was the big horse he was thinking of now, due to her sweet temperament and a size that meant most of the pack would be able to ride her, perhaps even the huge Sole. In time, unless he was given to another pack, Bark could grow and pair off with a young luperci in need of their first riding steed. It was something else he had to do, another reason to work with his pack mates, and an ideal shaping in his mind. But he still had to remind himself that this was Casa di Cavalieri and not some ranch.

The group finally reached the makeshift ring. Swinging the gate open, Wayne slapped Tupelo’s rear and sent her galloping in with the others, kicking playfully. He held onto Buckeye before the stallion could do the same, working to remove the tack, setting the saddle and bridle down onto the fence though it was temporary; he knew all too well that a bored horse would see them as something to mess with.

He let out a yip then, tailored to the horse he wanted to call, and Fern trotted up to him and the Italian with a swish of her flaxen tail. Smiling, Wayne turned to Sebastian and gestured to the large creature. This is Fern, the girl I was talkin’ about.

The sight of the chestnut horse approaching was a positive one to Wayne, who saw her for who she was: a gentle, nurturing mother with a sweet and obedient disposition. She’d been easy to break and remained the horse he considered when it came to giving others lessons. He failed to look at her from an outsider’s perspective—a perspective that saw her as a very, very huge beast lumbering toward them.

The Labrador mongrel blinked when the smaller wolf stepped slightly behind him, as if to protect himself from Fern. He considered it funny until he recognized the height difference between her and Sebastian, and he wondered if he should reconsider. Duke might fit him more size-wise, a small stallion for a small rider, but Dixie likely had him now and it would be best for the owner of the beast to be present for this.

Glancing over his shoulder at the redhead, Wayne listened to his hesitation and doubts. He finally smiled and shifted, reaching over to place his hand on the male’s shoulder. He gave it a little thump as he moved toward Fern, making a show of his ease around the giant creature. I won’t let anythin’ happen to ya, he promised, beckoning him to come over. C’mere, I’ll help you up. That would have to be how they did it; he considered it wouldn’t be too hard to lift the lithe wolf.

Sebastian was stiff as a board as he stepped forward, his golden eyes squeezed shut as he braced himself for the inevitable. The Labrador cross sighed, wishing that he could do something to make the man relax; Fern would be able to pick up on the nervous energy, and while he trusted her, it might still make her uncomfortable. Instead of fussing any more over the shorter male, he grabbed him and lifted him with a grunt, nearly losing it when he realized Seb wouldn’t be as easy to pick up and swing around as Dixie, who was still almost a foot shorter than the Italian.

Wayne didn’t drop his pack mate, however, and managed instead to lift him and push him to scramble onto Fern’s bare back. It might have been easier if she were wearing a saddle or something, but he doubted they were going to progress very much other than getting the ginger-furred male used to seating a horse. The cowboy did attach a lead to the chestnut mare’s halter to guide her, however, but he continued to stand with one hand on Sebastian’s leg to calm him and show him he’d be there if he fell.

The Rispetto shot him a smile. I’m not gonna make you do anythin’ but hang on while she walks, all right, bud? He waited for a response—whether it was screaming or grim acceptance of this fate—and drew away, walking Fern at a snail’s pace.

Luckily, his small pack mate did not flail about or make his job harder when it came to lifting him up onto the mare’s back. The muscular cowboy was cautious all the same though, knowing that Sebastian weighed a bit more than perhaps he’d thought the lithe Italian would. When all was said and done and the ginger wolf was perched trembling upon Fern, Wayne might have stood back to admire this accomplishment. As it was, he pretended that all circulation was not getting cut off from the hand grasped by the male and nodded once more at the whimpered agreement.

Just walking, the Labrador said easily, his low tones as comforting and supportive as he could make them. She will sway back and forth, and you might feel a bit wobbly, but it’s just walking and you won’t fall. He supposed it would be fair to give this warning so Sebastian didn’t think the horse had summoned an earthquake or some nonsense.

He muttered a word to Fern, a simple command that let her know to be as gentle as she possibly could. He’d let a few others ride her before, such as the nearly mute dog-girl near Cercatori. This would be no different.

And so, grasping a rope he’d tied to a loop in her halter, Wayne took a step forward and let the mare walk beside him.

One had squeezed until the life fled from it, the cowboy led the horse and smaller man around the corral at a meandering pace. Some of the amusement as Sebastian's struggles had fled as he considered how difficult this must be for him, how scared he truly was. But this was a lesson he did not intend to end early for his sake. He didn't expect the Italian to ever ride a horse again, but he at least needed to be comfortable around them for as long as Casa had its massive herd. He didn't want to see either the man or the equines hurt due to another misunderstanding.

Fern swayed an extra degree at one point, and the correction in her footing was something that the seasoned rider was used to. His body became a part of the horse, almost, and he knew how to correct his balance and to go with whatever the horse did. His pack mate did not have that sort of training, however, and a yelp was the only warning Wayne got before a ginger shape dropped toward him from the high saddle.

Lithe, strong arms wrapped around him as Sebastian caught himself, and Wayne reacted by flinging his arms around the small man in reaction so he wouldn't fall. The acrobat seemed fine on this account, though, clinging to him like he were a tree trunk, pressed against him and trembling.

You're safe, Wayne managed, his tone low and comforting although there was an edge of surprise to it. Fern had stopped and regarded the entwined males curiously, as if not able to comprehend why her rider was now on the cowboy instead.

No more ridin' for you, the burly man added, chuckling, and set about getting Sebastian to stop clinging to him.