09-09-2009, 05:46 PM
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Firefly had been examining the array of finery that the stables had to offer as well as strolling up and down the ilse between the stalls, peering in at the few horses that the pack had seemingly been able to tame to accept the confinements of the small areas. She shook her head at the idea but let it slide, knowing that the horses had it better off being kept by the wolves and knowing where their next meal came from. The golden woman slipped into the tack room and had been examining the brushes and combs for the horses for the better part of an hour, even trying them at her own fur a few times before setting a few aside in a box and turning her head towards the items she was more familiar with, saddles and bridles and the works.
She smiled as she ran her hands over the pieces, trying to decide which one she would claim as her own for the mean spirited ill tempered beast that had the pastures in a fury almost every day. She finally settled on a metal bridle, tarnished and dusty, leaving the saddles to decide over another day. She had a lot to do. Picking up a few rags and oil from the room before dragging the box of muddled items down the hall she set them infront of a stall away from the rest and perched atop a small stool to work the oil into the metal links of the bridle, knowing that she'd probably be at it all day.
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Firefly had been examining the array of finery that the stables had to offer as well as strolling up and down the ilse between the stalls, peering in at the few horses that the pack had seemingly been able to tame to accept the confinements of the small areas. She shook her head at the idea but let it slide, knowing that the horses had it better off being kept by the wolves and knowing where their next meal came from. The golden woman slipped into the tack room and had been examining the brushes and combs for the horses for the better part of an hour, even trying them at her own fur a few times before setting a few aside in a box and turning her head towards the items she was more familiar with, saddles and bridles and the works.
She smiled as she ran her hands over the pieces, trying to decide which one she would claim as her own for the mean spirited ill tempered beast that had the pastures in a fury almost every day. She finally settled on a metal bridle, tarnished and dusty, leaving the saddles to decide over another day. She had a lot to do. Picking up a few rags and oil from the room before dragging the box of muddled items down the hall she set them infront of a stall away from the rest and perched atop a small stool to work the oil into the metal links of the bridle, knowing that she'd probably be at it all day.
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