so many lost when the west was won.

Date: 18 Sept

Time: Morning

Place: Bass River

Words: 390

Another character on horseback would be nice. O: Belated edit: also, I'm cool with a few people jumping in here ^^

The tawny hybrid rode the roan horse carefully over the ground of Inferni. Most of it was flat and rolling, and she could have taken the mare to a gallop further inland, but here along the coast, there were more rocks and more spots of muck where the animal might stumble. The woman thought Eira was quite happy here in Inferni; Farai had proven great company, but a herd of other horses -- that was something.

She thought the equine had taken a particular liking to the big chestnut stallion, and Myrika had decided she would eventually move to the mansion where most of the rest of the pack lived. She had hardly unpacked in the schoolhouse, and even when choosing it, the tawny woman figured it would be little more than temporary housing. She halted the roan mare, peering curiously at the remnants of what might have been a village or development, turquiose eyes seeking movement.

Myrika had seen sheep before in this area of Inferni, and today she was on alert for them. A length of rope unfurled behind her to Farai while two more looped about her chest. She was prepared for a long day of capturing and tethering. Farai trotted up behind her, braying his happiness at being allowed to accompany them. He stopped where Eira had, however, and did not meander far. For his stubbornness, the donkey seemed to understand the good life he lived. Myri had read and heard that donkeys made good companions for sheep; she hoped these were not false tales, spun to mislead. Farai seemed the good type for this work, as he rather enjoyed keeping the company of horses, and most of the equines had tolerated him thus far, too.

A gray figure moved in the distance, and Myri stiffened, her bluish eyes hardening at the sight, squinting. She urged Myrika forward with a low noise, and the horse obliged, picking up the pace again at Myri's verbal urge. There was a small cluster of sheep, no more than seven or eight. It was tiny, in terms of herd size, but large enough so that the animals would want to stick together, congregation instincts overriding their flight instincts. Myrika slowed her horse as she crept near, and Farai followed at a distance, watching his master and her horse with curiosity.

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