Don't Blame the Moon

Levent Kartal · 01-25-2012, 10:37 PM

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Word Count :: 446 Hour long wait while trying to spree... I fail, sorry. :c

The soft whickering noise the wolf made caused Umut’s ears to swivel forward, and Levent grinned in approval at the stranger when the gelding seemed to relax. Truth be told, he knew he would be far less skilled with animals like horses if not for his own vast knowledge of low speech. Rather than needing to verse himself on all the aspects of caring for the creatures, he simply had to ask and be told what they required. Of course, each individual animal was different, and it had taken a lot of observation and questioning to get to the level he was at, but having that good basic knowledge allowed him to quickly understand the creatures he met.

These thoughts passing lazily through his head, he reached up to curl his fingers in the buckskin’s dark matted mane. The smile that came to his lips was a soft one, a far cry from the flamboyant and theatrical grins that normally adorned his expressive face. But its subtlety only made it more genuine.

Sensing his companion’s gentle mood, Wilson chose to wind through his legs, tilting his chin up and blinking once, slowly. His mouth then dropped open playfully, and Lev realized then that the stranger had been speaking to him. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, sheepish, and nodded at the Simien wolf. There wasn’t much else to say on that subject, though he made the mental note in case they were to wander back toward the caravan for some reason.

Bright amber eyes flicked to the horse, and tentatively he pointed out the animal’s terrible condition. Alarm flashed in Levent’s face for a moment, though it was only worry that the man thought he had neglected the animal to its ruin. The hand that had been stroking the gelding’s neck dropped to the rope again, and he gave his head a small shake.

“Doğru,” the brown wolf murmured. “Too skinny, too fearful, and too ungroomed.” He gestured toward the overgrown hooves and their apparent infection, the thrush he hoped had not set in so deeply as to lame the animal. “I was lucky that I found him when I did, though it was a poor choice to give so much away in return.” He half expected for Wilson to let out a smug little purr, then felt guilty for assuming something like that; the tomcat was being quiet and polite for once, too busy purring at his feet to make wry comments or glare warily at the stranger. “And so I’m left with few supplies of my own—I would be grateful if you could spare anything.” His dark ears lowered into the wild mess of his hair, and his pale eyes took on a pathetic quality: as if Umut’s state wasn’t pathetic enough. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, he could leave the gelding with the gypsies to be properly cared for—though he had already grown attached.

Lanet olsun benim kanama kalp.

table and manip by raze; template by kitty

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