Don't Blame the Moon

Levent Kartal · 01-21-2012, 11:00 PM

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Word Count :: 441 Wrote some crap really quick. x__x

Wilson tossed his head as he trotted along the path, dodging the overgrown hooves pacing beside him. He shot a wry look up at his canine companion, long white tail lowered near to the cracked pavement. “Looking to build your own bloody menagerie, are you, Lev?”

“Oh, hush,” the Turkish wolf retorted, pausing for a moment and tugging lightly on the gelding’s lead; the creature snorted, ears flattening, but did not move once he had called the halt. “I have a total of one animal following me around,” he continued with a shake of his head, “not a thousand.” The cat did not count; the cat might as well have been a fellow luperci to the man.

“That duff horse was a bad trade,” the tom muttered as Levent clicked his tongue and led the trio onward again.

Levent frowned then turned once more to the nervous equine, reaching slowly to touch its cheek and make low, comforting, horsy noises. Those noises were, in reality, more to the effect of making the cat jealous, but they had the good side effect of easing the larger animal’s nervous gait. “That mean ol’ kedi didn’t mean it, Umut. You aren’t a bad trade at all; you’ll be worth every trinket I gave up once you get healthy again.”

Wilson did have his point; the trade had been terrible, in favor of the pompous and stupid dogs that had bartered with the well-traveled merchant. The sooty buckskin was underfed and had a flighty temperament and a case of thrush, but Levent loved the gelding all the same. Besides, he considered the trade less of a ridiclous transaction and more of a rescue. While Lev was not the poster child for morality, his heart did bleed for just about any sad-looking animal that looked his way. It truly was a wonder he didn’t have a menagerie of formerly abused beasties.

“Where are we even going?” the cat asked after a while.

Levent flashed him a small smile. “Anywhere useful, arkadaş. Main thing is to find supplies to actually take care of this horse. He needs a farrier badly; it can’t be easy for him to walk.” He stroked Umut’s neck and murmured to him again. “Should probably trade for oats and whatnot, too, get weight back on him.”

The feline brushed against his friend’s legs, his voice softening. “Might just be easier to find ’im a good home, mate. I know why you traded for the horse, but we almost splashed out on him; not much left to trade.”

“Galiba,” the brown wolf sighed, and ran his fingers through the horse’s matted mane once more.

table and manip by raze; template by kitty

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