The Sugarwoods was only a short jaunt from Casa di Cavalieri territory, though Wayne McCoy did not know what he would expect to find there amongst the once-tapped maple trees. He merely wanted to go for a jog and get in some last alone time before leaving on another journey. Dixie was back home, and he hoped that she was getting rest if not making preparations. His heart rate still quickened at the thought of just the two of them traveling again.
But if he was looking for crisp, cold air to clear his head, the Labrador man was not going to get it. He blinked as the sickly sweet smell of tree sap wafted toward him and cocked his head. Someone must have clawed at the bark recently; he couldn’t fathom why the trees would start leaking randomly.
Shrugging to himself, he walked toward the scent to investigate—then paused when he reached the scene before breaking out into a huge, amused grin.
The dark brownish-black wolf had apparently gotten sap all over his muzzle, as he was pawing wildly at his snout and yapping at someone named Timmy to help. Meanwhile, a rather indifferent-looking hawk stood next to him, squawking out clipped and heavily accented High Speech to let him know that, no, he wasn’t getting any help.
The sight was too ridiculous for the cowboy to handle. He broke out into chuckles and held his ribs. “Uh—you need any help, partner?” Wayne managed between quiet laughs.
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