Don't Blame the Moon

Levent Kartal · 01-25-2012, 11:23 PM

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Word Count :: 376 Haha. Well, once I meet my quota for the night
I'll probably just head to bed. Congratulations on winning!

Levent smiled and stepped back lightly to allow the larger man to touch the poor horse. He had to give the animal credit for coming all this way after its rescue, proving that its soul hadn’t been destroyed yet. More evidence of the carelessness of its former owners shown in traces of dark scars along its back and haunches, saddle sores and others. As cowardly a beast as the wolf was himself, he did not know if he could have done it.

“Umut,” the Turkish man said suddenly. “Umut is his name.” It was a name that meant “hope” in his language. And hope was all he could offer the beast at this point.

The black- and rust-streaked man mentioned the supplies with the caravan again, and Lev nodded quickly. “I would like to go with you,” he suggested, both out of concern for the horse and for his own curiosity about what the Romani had been up to these past months. Perhaps, if they had leisure time to stop and talk, he could trade some of his pitiful remaining stores or make his suggestion that they keep the horse. But that question would be asked when it was time; for now the immediate worries about the animal’s pain and hunger were forefront in the man’s mind.

Murmuring once more to the animal, he came around to stroke its muzzle, letting his fingers rest on that sweet spot in the center of its forehead. He expressed regret and promised safety with the quietly flowing words and facial expressions, and Umut bumped his hand lightly with its nose, looking weary. He hoped they could make it at least to the caravan; there wasn’t much else he could do, and he was afraid the horse wouldn’t get back up if it lay down to rest.
“Ah—you should probably have my name if I’m to come along.” The blue-eyed man grinned lightly and offered his hand to shake. “Benim adım Levent Kartal,” he said, putting emphasis on his actual name though the rest of the Turkish words had come out of their own accord. “And this is Wilson,” he added, flashing another grin down at the feline, who lowered his ears hesitantly but offered a mew of greeting.

table and manip by raze; template by kitty

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