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Heath morte dre Soul · 04-10-2010, 09:21 PM

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har har

There were some days where Heath was what the horses considered late. He was only mortal of course, his desired for sleep and time with his beloved made some mornings hard to rise from bed or difficult to leave the cabin at all. But he did, just as he did every day and made the short walk that separated one of his lives from the other. The male strode through the stables, hand in his pocket, the other adjusting his hat. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, nodding to the horses that called to him as he made his way to the pair that called him their own. They were all riled, drawing their head up and down and making more noise that Heath usually appreciated. Lumiere was the worst, her wide dark eyes drawing the male from his daze and making him move to her quickly. Hushes and shushes did not ease the mare, and Heath opened her stall but before he could enter the mare pushed by him.

The coy-wolf ran after her, following her dark tail out into the yards. He called after her, his voice filled with the stern annoyance that a father might hold. Heath watched as the mare slowed, her head high as she drew him towards the ring. Honey hued orbs watched the raven stallion race, the wolf chasing at its heels. The mare stopped at the fence, but Heath could see that she desired to be on the other side of it. Her problem was secondary, for the knife he carried was in hand as he climbed the fence. Half way over he recognized the canine inside, stopping one rung off the ground. The roan horse traveled along with the stallion, following its movements on the outer portions of the ring. "Will you stop?" Heath asked, his voice neither harsh nor soft with weakness. But still he could smile, still seeing the humor in it all.

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