[PHASE 1] New Family

Arlo Beau woulda heard it a mile away.

He brought a shaky hand to his fluffy forehead, blocking the sun from his aching eyes as he gripped an old rusted garden hoe in the other. The sun beat down on his companions, some wet with sweaty fur, others a little more fortunate not to have a built-in blanket 24/7. He glanced downwards at their little land, wet soil drinking up each drop of water they fed it, little hopeful two-leafed buds peeking up from the dirt. He smiled to himself, before a distant clattering and shouting caught the attention of man and horse alike.

It came from the main entrance of their humble town. Arlo dropped his hoe and sprung towards the noise with a pistol in his right hand, holding himself back from scratching the metal with his dark, rugged claws, fellow towns folk racing neck and neck with him. Yet, instead of police or bounty hunters, a couple of mounted wranglers were strong-manning a very obviously terrified horse toward the town. The wereboy scrutinized the situation for a minute, letting them struggle to tie the poor thing up on a fence post. With a wave of his paw, he sent the people who raced to the scene away and back to their work. There was far too much to do to be worrying about a horse… but, it was Arlo’s responsibility.

“What’s going on here?” The aardwolf asked casually, waiting for the wranglers to dismount their horses. A packie came up to him to nuzzle into his fluffy neck.

A woman with rope-burned hands took a hat off and squinted at the new arrival. “We bought ‘er from some barn boys on the outskirts of the city. They didn’t know what to do with her,” she laughed dryly. “Said they were having a hard time breaking her. Somethun’ about them not being able to handle her at all, and they tried to shoe ‘er today, but she won’t cooperate.”

“She looked about what she look like now with those boys,” a smaller werecat said, “with them white in her eyes.”

Arlo nodded, shifting his gaze to the new arrival. She was yanking her head back, standing at an awkward angle as she attempted to face her buyers. She’s sure a character, he thought.

“Alright,” he dismissed, and the wranglers walked away to unsaddle and tend to their steeds.

He didn’t really know what to do with this little lady. She was smaller than average, a little emancipated, and obviously terrified of the rope that clung to her neck. Averting his gaze and watching the wranglers go, he wracked his brain for ideas – horses coming in traumatized or scared wasn’t exactly foreign, and he watched a couple of horses come to inspect the new girl. He looked back, gently shooing away a few of the horses, examining her long tailbone and seemingly soft fur. A loshenka… newer to the Americas, sought after by the rich, now widespread enough for even common folk to have them. A versatile, sturdy horse, made for an environment like this, and one home to many other loshenkas as well.

Arlo began his slow approach, cooing to see how she would react. Her ears had a gentle arc to them, perking up at his soft words, her pale eyes nervous as she tugged on the rope once or twice. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to mind that he approached her, giving him a sniff before pulling her head up when he got closer. His paw pads caressed her soft fur, warm from the summer sun, dusty from her exhausting adventure to arrive here. It seemed a wrangler had waved down a local Ferrier and vet, as they were slowly meandering towards the pair. It was common practice to do a quick wellness check before allowing new arrivals anywhere near the main herd.

But at the sight of those muddy scrubs seemed to trigger the new girl. She yanked her head up and around, facing her butt towards Arlo as she panicked and struggled to get away. There was a subtle stench of fear that permeated the air, Arlo quickly side-stepping away from the mare’s rear end, meeting the gaze of both the Ferrier and the vet who stopped in their tracks. Later - it wasn’t a command he needed to say with words. Both of them turned away, as it was obvious they were triggering in some way. Immediately, the new mare calmed down.

“Okay,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at the ground. Not being able to do a wellness check right away wouldn’t be too much of an issue. He’ll just take her to the barn.

With all of her yanking and anxiety over her face, he didn’t touch it, only taking the rope around her neck and leading her that way. Their walk was slow as she perked her ears up to every little thing, curious and scared at the same time. He let her explore a little bit, but in fear of invisible disease, didn’t linger for too long, keeping her in a small lean-to stable. He cut the rope with a claw to avoid her face.

He leaned on her stall door with his back toward her. The wereman could feel her warm breath on his shoulder, sniffing him with apt curiosity. Arlo imagined her silly wide eyes and her perked ears but did not dare turn around so she understood he wasn’t a threat.

“Tomorrow, we’ll figure you out a little more.”

–

The next day, Arlo was able to do a bit of a wellness check himself, but couldn’t get near her face whatsoever. He noted that her ears seemed a little dirty and she didn’t touch the hay he gave her last night, but otherwise, she was just dusty and skinny. The vet nodded, writing his findings on a little piece of paper.

“It’ll take time to desensitize her. You sure you have time? We can always task it to another person,” he suggested, but Arlo shook his head.

“I been needing a project. Don’t worry about me, Billy.”

Billy smiled at him, and Arlo returned it, chatting a little while longer before he left to check back up on the new mare. It was another scorching day, watching the other folks work on a myriad of daily tasks — weeding, flowering, watering, tending to the horses, cleaning and polishing tack, and some other folks even working on project horses of their own. Even if it was hot, the town was bustling with boundless energy, and he let some of it radiate onto him. Lord knows he’d need it, he thought, as he listened to the chickadees' tweet and the jays’ screech. 

Their little town was coming together. He watched a buddy place a wood plank on the side of a worn-down house, ramming a nail in with a hammer. Arlo was tossed from his admiring as she gave another whinny, picking up his pace with a smirk. Despite not eating the night before, she was spirited and energetic like the rest of them. He stared at her with his same goofy grin.

“I guess we need a name for you, huh?” He asked with a paw on his hip. Her slate fur framed a large blotch of white on her sides, and her crystal blue eyes shined in the daylight. It reminded him of a noise… like a creekbed. A gurgling, cold, refreshing creek bed.

“How about Pebble?” He asked, and it felt like she approved. Arlo felt a warm surge trickle up his body.

“I thought it was a good name too,” he nodded. “Pebble it is.”