The horse beneath him was steady and strong. The pale colored stallion moved with a knowing pace, as if he had remembered the way, and perhaps he did. The coy-wolf that sat upon him sat strait and rode with technique and practice. A stoic look was featured on his face, serious and deep in thought. It remained from when he had tacked the stallion, placing the saddle on, the bridle and tacking up the reins. He used all the best equipment, placing it slowly and perfectly. In the past week Heath had not treated the horse with the respect deserved, riding with nothing at all and only hands intertwined with mane to keep his hold. Not now. There would only be care taken with the creature, he had learned from his mistakes.
The male that rode Stark was a different beast. His face was serious, and yet filled with conviction and determination. For the first time he had woken with a clear mind, and without the notion of the liquor that he had consumed the eve before. He had woken and for the first time in his life, dressed. A male had told him he was not feral, for he could walk on two legs, and at the time Heath had wanted to show him otherwise. Today put behind the wild, and was ready to forget the feeling of being out of control. All the articles had been in the stables, but until this day he had ignored them. The shirt was buttoned, pattered with small checked stripes and what he would call blue. The pants had needed modification, but were easy to tailor, their denim sturdy but still not enough to withstand his claws. They fit snug against his legs, rolled below his knees as he had seen others do.
A belt and buckle fitted around his waist and its polished metal gleamed in the late morning sun. The autumn day was brisk, but if in the sun there was a comforting warmth felt along his clad shoulders. The tawny beast felt the nerves gather in his stomach, and the bells could be heard in the distance. The closer he came to her home the louder their ring grew. The wind picked up their light weight, and as he passed beneath the trees Heath caught their gold color in his mimicking eyes. Her scent lingered in the air, and he slowed Stark to a stop. Dismounting the coy-wolf led him towards the house. His light colored hand brushed against one of the bells, and for a moment he stood beside his friend in fear. Heath looked at the cabin, knowing some how that she was inside. His voice was lost, and all he could do was stare at the door.