MORGEN
Come down from your fences
Though the temperatures hadn't dropped quite as low as they would over the coming weeks, was chilly enough that the youngin's of the herd were full of piss and vinegar and the older members were joint-sore and cranky. They moved like a flock of birds, with the majority just followin' along where a few chose to go; Morgen rarely interrupted to lead them unless they looked as though they were about to fuck off somewhere they really shouldn't.
With his hat pulled down low to cut the chill of the wind, Morgen wouldn't have been aware of the caretaker's fall were it not for the sudden raising of half a dozen heads. Nostrils flared, ears perked, and necks grew rigid and arched. 'S'probably just one of those ghost things." The wrangler murmurs, patting shoulders as he pushes himself through the herd and narrows his eyes. Somewhere on the hillside was something that was vaguely ghost-shaped, in that it appeared human-ish, but from where he stood he couldn't really make it out. With nothing more than a mental whistle, a buckskin mare bullies her way to Morgen's side.
'Listen, if it is a ghost, we'll fuck off.' He murmurs to her, and though she doesn't leave his side, her ears are pinned for good measure. Grabbing a handful of mane, the wrangler heaves himself onto her back. With their minds intertwined he has little need for reins, though he does cluck softly under his tongue to encourage her on.
Thanks to Sweets' superspeed the pair near Lena quite quickly, though not before Morgen calls out a helpful: "Is you one of them ghost-things?"
With his hat pulled down low to cut the chill of the wind, Morgen wouldn't have been aware of the caretaker's fall were it not for the sudden raising of half a dozen heads. Nostrils flared, ears perked, and necks grew rigid and arched. 'S'probably just one of those ghost things." The wrangler murmurs, patting shoulders as he pushes himself through the herd and narrows his eyes. Somewhere on the hillside was something that was vaguely ghost-shaped, in that it appeared human-ish, but from where he stood he couldn't really make it out. With nothing more than a mental whistle, a buckskin mare bullies her way to Morgen's side.
'Listen, if it is a ghost, we'll fuck off.' He murmurs to her, and though she doesn't leave his side, her ears are pinned for good measure. Grabbing a handful of mane, the wrangler heaves himself onto her back. With their minds intertwined he has little need for reins, though he does cluck softly under his tongue to encourage her on.
Thanks to Sweets' superspeed the pair near Lena quite quickly, though not before Morgen calls out a helpful: "Is you one of them ghost-things?"
open the gate
