Just One Of Those Mornings

Levent Kartal · 06-25-2012, 10:19 AM

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Word Count :: 406 Sorry for the wait! ;__;

Levent Kartal was a merchant by blood and trade, but his other true talent lay with animals. He could be himself with the less intelligent creatures more than he could be himself with his pack—and even with his best friend, sometimes. It was a simple existence, lounging in the grass around grazing horses, listening and watching them communicate with each other and sometimes him. Most of them didn’t care about anything but a little bit of socializing and when they’d be fed.

His arms folded behind his head, the man stretched out in the grass and closed his eyes against the sunlight. He knew that Wilson was keeping guard over him, probably sitting on a fence post at the edge of the pasture, and he didn’t fear getting trampled by hooves. He was far enough away from the bulk of the herd, anyway, and he occasionally recited lines from his tattered Quran aloud so that they were constantly reminded of his presence.

“Andolsun kusluk vaktine,” Levent murmured almost sleepily, “Ve sakinlestigi zaman geceye ki, rabbin seni birakmadi ve darilmadi.”

The soft nickering of a horse caused his dark ears to swivel, and the Turkish wolf raised himself onto his elbow, glancing toward the fence. He didn’t recognize the buckskin stallion, although he’d yet to really memorize all the equines in the pack. Remaining in the grass, he waited and watched as the stallion’s handler—a pretty patchwork girl—struggled to reclaim his attention and get him to do what she wanted him to do. The brown-furred luperci was rising to better see what was going on when the stallion suddenly lurched forward, leaving the woman sprawled on the ground.

Levent couldn’t help it; he laughed. It was a low sound, and he quickly fell silent as he walked over to the fence where the pair of horses talked. Leaning on the fence, he lifted his head and ears then nudged the mare lightly in the shoulder. “Come on, nothing to see here,” he drawled, managing to nudge the mare away enough that she placidly turned and walked off. Without her as a distraction, maybe the stallion’s handler could deal with him. With her gone, he shot the buckskin a no doubt obnoxious look then stepped back from the fence slightly.

“You okay, yamalar?” the Venditore called to the collie mix, crossing his arms over his cream chest. “That looked like it might leave a bruise.”

Photo courtesy of john curley

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