[/html]Despite the noise from the white wolf, she focused on her task and hoisted the mirror into her hands. White fingers curled around the peeling frame, some paint flaking off onto the ground; it was a good find, and she was sure someone in her new family would appreciate it. The stub of a tail she boasted wiggled beneath the span of green that she wore at her hips. Mars better appreciate it. The cinnamon mutt traipsed back into the frigid air, searching for the ersatz saddle bags Senorita often carried; she hadn't had time to find something real, and the moth-eaten canvas was still usable. The mirror slipped into the dusty fabric container, and the horse shifted with the new weight. "Innit great, Senorita?! Mars'll be happy, y'know? I bet he'll like it. Barty will, at least," she chimed. As if having forgotten his presence, she turned to search for the stranger.
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