Nightlinger

She was wild-blooded. While time had made Night more compliant to the humans here, beyond the extent of the informal racing that happened on the dirt track behind the corrals and stables, Night retained the feral blood that raced through her. The humans kept her relatively alone when possible. As long as she was fed and in good health, everyone was a happy camper here.

There's a banner nailed to the side of her enclosure, wavering in the wind. Phantom, the Wild Race Horse! It's water-stained, and isn't going to last much longer in the winter elements of the Valley. Nightlinger doesn't know or understand the acclaim the humans give her. The stories they tell about her. She simply does what she's only known -- run. Out in the wild, it had been across terrain with no boundaries. Here, she learned to settle with the oval of dirt under the saddle and a person. If it meant feeling the wind against her frame, the sound of her own hooves resonating in her ears, Night was content.

Today is temperate. The black mare stands in the center of her lonely corral, head lowered so that her thick forelock covers her drowsy eyes. Her ears twitch gently as she listens to the workers go about cleaning and tending to the other equines here. She's never completely relaxed her. Night hasn't allowed herself to trust a single human to that extent. They'll always be the ones that stole her freedom, plucking her from the true living of the wild. For that, Night will never forgive them. And for now, Night simply dreams of the day she'll leave this dreaded, fenced-in prison.

Quentin Evenday & Shrike

~'That's the one, Quentin. You can see it in her eyes, can't you?'

'I see a feral horse.'

'You're just not looking at her right. I've seen her in action before, here at the tracks. Phantom's-'

'I've seen it race too. You'll get yourself killed out there, one of these days.'

'You worry too much. She deserves a chance, someone to-'

'That someone's not either of us. Not today.'~

----

The little kia rolled into the parking lot, tires crackling over loose gravel and melting chunks of packed ice and snow. Smatterings of gray grit streaked the once shiny blue vehicle, rendering yesterday's ten dollar carwash a complete waste. Quentin frowned at this as he stepped out of the vehicle, silently cursing this wet, messy part of the year when spring was clambering for its time against the final days of winter. It made the weather nicer, but it wreaked havoc on the cars that had to endure the sloshy country roads and endless potholes that sprung up all over town.

Forcing his car's poor state of appearance out of mind, Quentin reached back into the car to grab the leashes of Shrike and Scorp, and led them out. For a moment or so, the tall fellow stood in silence, bright blue eyes turning towards the enclosure with the weather-ruined banner, while his mind drifted back a few months into the past. A hearty jolt from one of the leashes soon brought him back to the present, and he didn't hesitate to scowl anew and bark a command at Shrike. "Thander! No."

Shrike paused and quirked his head. He still wasn't sure if his human-given name was 'Thander' or 'No', as he heard both shouted at him fairly frequently. Either way, the young wolf stopped tugging at the leash and stood momentarily still, until Quentin began walking. With excited steps, the growing canine loped along after the man, following him towards Nightlinger's corral.

Quentin approached the fencing, his gaze briefly looking over the sad remnants of the banner, then lifted to the nightly-hued mare beyond. His brows were still furrowed heavily, and his expression wasn't a gentle one, but he clicked his tongue and gave a whistle to catch her attention.

Scorponock

Scorp was a decent size now, not full grown but you can sure as hell tell he was wolf now. The moment their door was opened Scorponocked pulled against the leash. He stil lslightly faught this contraption not understanding it. He growled as all the smells hit his nose. Especially the smell of horse. Smells like our old type of dinnerhe said bouncing forward.

Nightlinger

Night couldn't be bothered the the mud-streaked vehicle rumbling across the gravel into the Corral's territory. She'd arrived on a much bigger contraption, and witnessed a number of these oddly-shaped vehicles come and go. Some roared like hungry animals, coughing and sputtering the remnants of their life to the humans that controlled them. This vehicle, though tarnished by the muck and grim of the road, was quiet and didn't bother Night.

It wasn't until Quentin exited the car did Night rivet her attention in that direction, tentative nostrils flaring as she tries to catch a whiff of the stranger. He wasn't one of the normal workers here. The entrance of the two canines brought an interested lash of Night's tail, ears pricking as she watches the excitable creatures dance around the human's legs. They didn't look like normal dogs, and Nightlinger spent enough time in the wild to recognize the predatory face of the wolf. Peculiar, Nightlinger muses inwardly, the humans and their relationships with animals never ceased to amuse the mare. More interestingly, the man makes a beeline for her corral. Most of the humans kept their distance. After a few spectators learned how prickly and unreceptive Night was to their presence, word got out about the unruly mare. She was to be a spectacle on the track alone -- and even those instances, it was like witnessing lightning. Dangerous. Fiery. A force to be reckoned with. But Quentin seems to miss that memo, or maybe he simply doesn't care, the mare can't figure out.

By the time the man and his companions reach the fence of the corral, Nightlinger's head raises and she gazes levelly at the man as if to say 'What the hell are you looking at?' For good measure, she swishes her ebony tail and gives a little, disdainful snort.

Quentin & Shrike

"Harley." The deep growl of a word was for Scorp this time as he tugged on the leash, "Heel." The command was followed by a sharp tug on the leashes, pulling both wolves closer to him as he did so, while repeating the phrase. It wouldn't be long before both cousins would be too large for Quentin to easily handle, so he was keen to get them decently trained before then.

"You're right, Scorp! Maybe he's finally taking us hunting? He keeps treating us like pups, bringing us our food. It's about time we showed him how... hey, wait!" As Shrike was hyping himself up for his first real hunt, and greedily taking in all wild new scents of equine, Quentin was tying his and Scorponok's leashes to a post. "Hey! what's this? How am I suppose to hunt when I'm tied up?" Shrike pulled his weight against the leash, but to no avail.

With his hands now free, Quentin's attention was fully upon the midnight mare. The two shared equally unimpressed looks with one another, with Nightlinger emphasizing her point with an audible snort. The man nodded faintly to a query in his own mind before he clicked his tongue and reached into his pocket to fish out the apple he'd stored in there. "Proper introductions first." With low expectations for the mare to actually approach him, much less take the offered fruit, Quentin nevertheless extended his arm past the fencing and clicked his tongue once more.

On the sidelines, Shrike turned an ear towards Scorp, "Oooh, that's a good strategy. See, he's luring our dinner closer to him, trying to trick her. I wonder if he'll try biting her neck, or her haunches first."

Scorponock

Scorponock grunted at the tug and that word, that part of him knew meant to go to the males left side and he subsided into it for now until he was tied up to the post. He eyed the horse hungerly and growled now pulling and tugging at the leash and collar.not cool!he growled as he sat down soon and glared. I think he'll go for the neckHe said.

Nightlinger

Eyes study the restless bundle of fur at the end of Quentin's leashes, her tail lashing once more as she watches the canines eye her. While she couldn't make out exactly what the duo were bubbling about, the mare could only assume the panting maws of these aging pups' were considering her flesh as a meal. They were naive, Nightlinger decides, even the fittest of wild wolves rarely considered an adult horse a meal. While she'd rather keep her distance from them, Night recognizes Shrike and Scorp has hardly a threat. Even if they did go rogue and slip into the corral, away from their leashes, they'd soon learn that a hoof to the face wasn't preferential.

So Night rivets her attention back to Quentin, blinking as he reveals his Hail Mary in the form of a glistening, red apple. The mare's ears twitch with interest as she considers his preposition. Time in servitude to the humans chipped away at her immunity to the sweets they offered. But she isn't so immediately swayed, her four hooves still planted firmly into the earth. She shifts a bit, still studying Quentin. The wind billows her thick, unruly mane and the mare gives a tiny shiver. He'd have to play a longer waiting game if he wanted to earn the prize of her trust.

Quentin & Shrike

The inexperienced adolescent was darting expectant looks between Nightlinger and Quentin, with one ear temporarily cocked towards his cousin to hear his input on the matter. "Oh man, this is going to be epic!" Having been too young to experience any hunts with his pack before his capture, Shrike had only his rampant imagination to guide him on what this process might be like, and it was every bit as outlandish and over the top as one might expect from an excitable youngster. "Luring it in with a fruit, ah-ha." He stole his gaze away from the expected bloodshed long enough to nod at Scorponok, "Yeah, definitely a neck bite. But his mouth is so tiny and flat - do you think he opens his jaws wider, like a snake?"

Oblivious to the commentary going on behind him, Quentin's focus was on the charcoal mare in the corral. A faint grin briefly visited his face, drawing a few wrinkles into existence before fading away, "Stubborn lass, I see." The voice was quiet and almost pleasant, lacking any real gruffness or grit to it. He turned the apple about with his fingers, studying it before switching back to Nightlinger. "The offer only last so long, Phantom." He clicked his tongue again, keeping his own feet stubbornly planted where he stood. When Quentin dedicated himself to something, he was not easily swayed from his goals.

Scorponock

He was jumping side to side barking excitedly.I don't know maybeHe said as his tail wagged behind him as he jumped side to side.

Nightlinger

The mare pays little heed to the incessant chatter coming from the two wolves, despite how well-aware she is of their drooling maws and hungry eyes. She gives a disdainful snort as she flits her gaze from Quentin to the wolves, back to Quentin. She can't deny the opportunity for a treat, but also detests the very idea of approaching Quentin. His soft voice carries to her ears, Night's shoulders twitching as she continues to debate her next moves.

For a moment, the only movement between Quentin and Night is the gentle breeze buffeting her thick, black mane. Finally, in a steady move, Night shifts her weight and takes two placid steps towards Quentin, curiosity and desire taking the better of her. She then halts, blinking. Part of her stops to see Quentin's reaction, to determine if he was truly safe or not, and another part to see how the chattering wolves reacted. Her eyes still aim back on the apple in Quentin's hand, the mare slightly determined to win her prize.

Quentin & Shrike

Scorponok's excited bouncing was contagious, and expressed itself in Shrike with eagerly prancing front paws and a furiously wagging tail. "Ooo, oooh, look! It's getting closer, his ploy is working!" As if the two reserved steps Nightlinger took suddenly brought her within hearing range, Shrike had dramatically lowered his voice. Nevermind that he was still bopping about like a fool and clearly visible to Quentin's 'prey', the adolescent still had much to learn, and skills that needed extensive honing.

Infinitely calmer than his impromptu new pets, the man is just as steady and determined as the mare. The mild breeze that drifts through the Corral brings new scents to the young wolves, and sets a slight dance to Quentin's far less majestic ponytail before the wind eases up again. The faintest of smiles creases the edge of his lips as Nightlinger moves forward, drawing a shadowed crease or two to his stubbled face.

"I'm not going to throw it any closer." His words are quiet still, and with the newly acquired smile, some of the coldness and indifference had started to melt from his facade. His fingers shifted as he turned the fruit about in his palm, and bobbed it up and down once in an enticing manner.

Scorponock

His mouth was watering now as the mare got closer to Quentin and he was pulling harder now at his leash. She looks so tasty and im so hungry!He said.

Nightlinger

Nightlinger decides she's had enough of the two wolves lunging at their leashes beside Ethan. The mare lifts one of her hooves, thudding it back down against the earth with an irritated snort. "You both have rocks in your brain, don't you?" Nightlinger suddenly snaps at them, ears flattening haughtily. She hopes her sudden outburst takes them off guard a little bit, because she's tired of pretending she can't hear their chatter. Even some of the largest predators didn't bother with a healthy horse, but clearly that had never been explained to Scorp or Shrike. "Watch," she suddenly huffs at the two young wolves. Nightlinger paces forward several more steps until she stands just out of Quentin's reach. With cautious movements, Night cranes her neck until the velvet-skin of her lips brush against Quentin's knuckles. She doesn't quite take the apple yet, her dark eyes still waiting for Quentin to betray her or, at least, confirm that the fruit gift was for her. Either way, Night wanted to prove to the drooling whelps that there was no way she was anybody's meal.

Quentin & Shrike

Shrike was nodding his eager agreement to his cousin, just feeling his stomach growl with anticipation. "There'll be plenty for all three of us! We wont even-" His words and his bubbling bravery hit a brick wall the second Nightlinger addressed he and Scorponok, and the adolescent stood mouth agape for a second as his confidence took a dive. It was one thing talking smack about a big creature that was behind a fence and paying no heed to them, but a totally scenario when said creature was now directing their ire at him and stamping a very dangerous looking hoof into the ground.

Shrike's ears went down and he scrambled back until his rump hit the pole he was tethered to. Nightlinger seemed much larger than she did a second ago. "...um.." Was all Shrike could manage, as he watched what he could only assume was Night's attempt to bite Quentin's hand off.

Quentin may not understand the conversation going on behind him, but he did recognize Nightlinger's answer. The horse was not amused by the wolves, and her defiant stamp and those flattened ears were a warning the man could read. A glance back had him chuckling under his breath, seeing that Shrike had responded accordingly. "Don't take gruff from anyone, do you?" His voice was still quiet, and when she finally brought her muzzle forward, Quentin reached with slow, fluid movement to stroke that velvetine nose with his other hand. There would be no harsh blows or cruel words from this man.

Scorponock

HE growled at the mare.watch what?he growled and moved in front of his cousin his fur raised.

Nightlinger

Her point made, Nightlinger couldn't help but silently gloat in the pride that came from making Shrike wordless, or the rivet of anger elicited from Scorp. The mare decides to pocket the experience away, brown eyes now fully fixated on the stoic man before her. While her shoulders flinch as Quentin reaches out and brushes her muzzle, Night remains planted on the ground before him. Inwardly, she marvels at his unrelenting stubbornness, his desire to get close to the wild mare. Where others had flinched away, or taken advantage of the close distance between the mare and them, Quentin remained a quiet fixture. Save Scorp and Shrike, this encounter was serene and calm. Different than all the other humans.

The ebony mare leans a half step closer, her lips gently nudging at the apple that she's really here for. Deep eyes continue to study Quentin, unsure where to pin this two-legged in her book. He wasn't threatening. He was actually gentle and felt...relatively safe. A thought that conflicted much of Nightlinger's experience with these smooth-skinned, two-legged creatures. So she waits, seeing if Quentin will decide, through his own actions, where Night should place him on the spectrum.

Quentin & Shrike

Shrike was flabbergasted, blinking uncertainly at the horse that suddenly seemed so much bigger than she did a minute earlier. Never having hunted in his life, he wasn't ready for his dinner to talk back to him, much less in the manner that Nightlinger had. Gray ears slowly lifted and swiveled forward as he watched her, now equally confused by Quentin's actions. "Is this what our parents did when they hunted?" Sincere uncertainty influenced his tones, as for once, Shrike didn't have an answer for something.

Quentin was just pleased that the pair had stopped prancing around and barking like fools, allowing him to focus on his interaction with the wild mare. He was mindful not to make any sudden movements while she bridged that gap between them, distrust heavy in her dark eyes. "It's yours to take, go on." The man's words continue to flow on a calm, quiet note, as sure and gentle as the hand that was now moving along her nose, "See? And you don't have to worry about me jumping in there trying to ride you. Never learned how to do that yet." His eyes finally broke away from hers, turning out across the corral and the space beyond, searching for anyone who might work at the facility.

Scorponock

He sat down growling slightly.No I don't think so... Maybe he trying to be one of those humans the rides them? I've seen humans sit on their backs beforehe said.

Nightlinger & *Human*

Nightlinger blinks as she takes one more moment to judge Quentin. Satisfied that he wasn't a threat, as his two wolf companions hailed him to be, the mare leans forward and takes the apple in her mouth. She bobs her head in a little thanksgiving, grinding at the sweet fruit in between her molars. Rivulets of the apple's juice run down her muzzle, the mare gladly finishing the fruit with a hearty snort. There's a pregnant pause as she finishes the treat Quentin brings her, brown eyes flashing back to the man before her. Nightlinger relinquishes her distrust for the two-legged walkers, at least only for Quentin, take another step closer to his vicinity. Now, Quentin was within reach of her head and neck, and the mare flicks her ears as if to invite him into her space now.

Across the corral, some of the workers have paused in their chores for a small social break. Someone points out Quentin, the group of corral workers astonished how quiet the vicious mare, Phantom, acted around them. Jaws drop. One of the men breaks off from the group to approach Quentin, an amazed smile spread across his face. "Well, I'll be damned," he calls out to Quentin, "Nobody told me the Horse Whisperer was in town. Ain't it a surprise to see Phantom taking treats from a man?"

Quentin & Shrike

"Ride them?" His astonishment continued, as he now swung his muzzle from Scorp back to Quentin and Nightlinger. The idea sounded absolutely absurd to him, but then they did ride in those strange thunderbugs. Shrike tilted his head, trying to picture their human atop this nightmare beast. "If we're gonna ride that, I don't know how we'll stay on without the kind of paws that he has. I mean, I think I can jump that high, but..."

His smile continued, now showing more in his eyes than anything as the coal-coated mare finally accepted the gift and extended a growing tendril of trust. Leaning over the fence further, Quentin ran a hand along the length of her muzzle and forehead now that she'd permitted him the opportunity for it. "There, that's not so bad." A line of wrinkles came to his face then, as his expression transitioned into one of deeper thoughts.

Before he could open his mouth again to put his questions to words, one of the nearby men hailed him. Quentin nodded and waved a hand through the air, "I wouldn't call me that. I think the apple did most of the work." The smile had departed, leaving behind a more formal facade as he addressed the fellow. "So what's the story on Phantom here?"

Scorponock

He shrugs at this.I don't knowHe said and then growled when someone approached Quentin, yes he trusted the man but not the other humans. HE started barking and pulling against his leash. His teeth showing and his ears back.

Nightlinger & *Human*

While the approaching human is a distance away, the muscles in Nightlinger's shoulders and hindquarters bunch as she eyes him nervously. There had been one man at this facility that Night had tolerated -- the little jockey boy. But after the last racing season in the fall, Night hadn't seen him. He was the only person who Nightlinger let into her proximity without protest. Ears tick back and Night gives a gusty snort, but remains planted before Quentin. She felt a subtle wind that she could trust Quentin, and as long as he was here, Nightlinger didn't feel the need to immediately retreat to the center of her corral with the other human.

The man grins at Quentin, striding closer but keeping a steady distance. He could see Nightlinger's tension, and knew the mare's detest of his like. Besides, he didn't want to ruin all of Quentin's work in luring the mare within reach. It didn't help that Scorp also made it clear that he wasn't welcome too close. He glanced at the dogs, knowing they weren't much harm teathered to the post. Hands shuffle themselves into his denim jean pockets, head tilting back to gander at Quentin and the mare they deemed "Phantom." "She's about as wild as they get. They rounded her up...two...nay, three years ago" he explains, chuckling at the thought of the terrifyingly wildness of the mare when they'd first brought her in. Surely, she still retained a big part of her wildness, but there had been a reluctant acceptance to her captivity over the seasons. "Found out she was like greased lightning. So she's been racing on the track. The only person she let's in her space was her jockey boy, Paco, but he went south to start ridin' on the racetracks there."

The man pauses while he looks Nightlinger over, looking over at Quentin. "Well, make it two people, including you," he adds with a smirk, "For a price, she could be yours. Nobody here is looking to take chances with Phantom...and it looks like she already likes you."

Quentin & Shrike

The addition of this new man made Shrike decidedly nervous, despite all his bravado about the humans in weeks past. Quentin he was use to, but this new fellow? Instead of the barking and fang flashing of his younger cousin, Shrike slowed his tail to a stop and slunk behind the pole, watching the fellow with wary eyes. His focus immediately then jumped to his owner, reading his body language to determine whether this new human was a threat or not. "I wonder if this is going to be a pack hunt? That dude doesn't smell like Quentin though, I don't think he's related."

"Harley. Easy." From over where he stood against the corral, a deeply-voiced reprimand was given to Scorponok, and the way Quentin darted his eyes to Shrike afterwards passed that message along to the other young wolf, and took it with a temporary flattening of his tall ears. That brief interject didn't stop the man from picking up on more subtle cues from Nightlinger when this other fellow had approached, from the tightening of her muscles to the backward shift on those dark ears.

"Easy, Phantom. You're fine." This time, 'Easy' came as a coaxing term rather than a command as it had been for the wolves, with his tone being the deciding factor on its meaning. With a hand still pressed lightly on the mare's snout for as long as she'd permit it, Quentin continued to address the fellow that now stood before him, "Sorry about Harley and Thander there. They're rescues, still working on their manners." With that aside, Nightlinger was back under his eye, looking the apprehensive mare over as she teetered on the edge of bolting in this other man's presence. "So, she's a racer? And one with a wild heart." Quentin nodded to himself, answering an internal query, "I guess then it comes down to what price you have on this wild one, and-" His face briefly scrunched as he went over all the logistics in buying a horse when he had no stables or any real quality experience with equines, "-do you have any recommendations for a good boarding stable?"

Scorponock

Scorponock this time didn't listen as he growled wanting to protect Quentine .no I doubt it why wouldn't they of come here togetherHe growled.

Nightlinger & *Human*

Eyes dart from Quentin to the other man, the mare remaining planted at her post with the yield from the corral worker. As long as he kept his respectable distance, Night didn't have plans of reeling backwards. Quentin's soft words and the delicate, yet firm, touch of his hand upon her muzzle was enough to keep Night close. The ebony mare twitches her ears once more, throwing a glance at the sudden lapse of silence from Quentin's canine companions.

Brows scrunch together as the weathered, wrinkled man thinks for a moment in response to Quentin's question. There were a number of barns in the area, Atroe City attracted some of the most livestock-savvy types. "You'll probably be happy with the facilities over at the Anderson girls' place," he muses with a whisk of a smile. Anyone in the horse circles knew of Clover Field Stable. "My niece kept her jumper over there when she was in primary school. The Anderson's are good people. I'm sure if you need any help with your endeavor, they can point you in the right direction." He tips his head towards Night when he says 'endeavor' a devil of a smile creasing his lips as a chuckle surpasses him. The wild black mare certainly wouldn't be the first wild creature Clover Field has ever housed. "I'm not sure your car will haul a horse, though. She won't fit in the backseat like the dogs," he jests. He then gestures towards the individuals hanging around the stables, most of them wandering back into their chores at this point rather than oogling at Quentin's taming act of Nightlinger. "But you decide on a stable, any one of the boys here are easily bought. Compensate them for gas and toss them a few dollars for beer money, someone will probably gladly take you and your new acquisition there in one of our rigs."

Quentin & Shrike

Shrike was completely baffled now, and not sure whether he was disappointed in the lack of fighting, or intrigued by all these unexpected interactions he was seeing. "Yeah I think you're right. And look see, those other humans are all moving away now, they wont help with the hunt." He frowned upon seeing Quentin's hand rested so gently on Nightlinger's muzzle, appearing to stroke her nose as if she were a fellow packmember! The adolescent sighed heavily, "Ugh, humans are weird."

Apprehensive though she was, the fact that Nightlinger didn't bolt like she wanted to was taken as a positive sign by Quentin. Whether it was from his own coaxing or not, he couldn't be sure, but as the fellow said, he'd already made some sort of positive impression on her and that was a good starting point. "That's the Clover Field Stables, right? Been past there a time or two." Quentin nodded as recollection quickly came to him with that last name, right before a small crease formed between his brows at the realization of what he was taken on. He had woefully little experience with equines, and taking on Nightlinger sounded like jumping into a marathon before he'd ever begun training. But he'd already committed to this, and with some progress already blossoming in the simple form of having a hand on Night's muzzle, Quentin was not about to back out of this promise. "Appreciate the advice, I think we'll try the Anderson's place then. I'll be more than happy to compensate for the trouble of hauling Phantom there, and I'll get you a check written out for this one." Quentin reached his other hand out for a shake, showing nothing but confidence in his decision despite his underlying apprehensions.

Shrike perked up at seeing this, "Hey look, Scorp! Thing he's getting ready to attack that other dude? They keep showing their teeth at each other!"

Scorponock

Scorponock is pulling more and more especially when his cousin meantions attacking. Let me at them!He growled and pulled against his leash his tail stiff above his back.

Nightlinger & *Human*

Eyelashes bat as Quentin motions towards the other human, shoulders twitching as the mare wondered if his withdrawal from her meant she ought to return to the safety of the center of the corral. But the black mare gives a little huff of a snort, watching the two men shake their odd paws together. No longer garnering Quentin's attention, Nightlinger herself glances at the two canines still tethered and under control. Night has a weird premonition that she'll be seeing more of these noisy mutts.

Lips forming a broad smile, the other gentleman grasps Quentin's hand with little regard for the dirt along the creases and the dust under his fingernails. He tips his head towards Quentin as he withdraws his hand, slowly shuffling backwards towards the stable. "I'll let the boys know their service will be needed soon," he tells Quentin, a little laugh escaping his lips once more. "And good luck with her. You won't have a dull day working with her, I reckon."

Quentin & Shrike

Dressed up smartly in a gray polo with a crisp white undershirt, and a pair of dark jeans that looked to have never sported a smidgen of dust or dirt in their life, Quentin's appearance belied the fact that he had no qualms about getting his hands dirty. He certainly showed no hesitation or grimace at the much less pristine hands of the fellow now grasping his, nor did he balk at the mountain of work that awaited him in training Nightlinger. "Appreciate it." Was all he said with a nod and a smile. As the other departs to ready a team for the mare's transport, Quentin turns back to the horse and gives her a few light pats against the side of the neck, "Looks like you're coming home." The smile broadens for a moment as those gentle pats against her neck transition back into a stroking motion. The smile fades some as he clears his throat and looks back at his unruly canines, "Enough of that. Both of you."

Shrike pauses, hearing Quentin's tone and seeing that pointed look. The words might be lost on him, but he still understood their master was not happy. "But, you were in danger!" He protested, without eliciting a change in demeanor from Quentin. Lacing his ears back, the young wolf took a step back and watched the stranger walk away. "Maybe that other dude was trying to steal his prey, and he scared him away? But why's he mad at us, we helped drive him off." He cocked his head and sat down, exhaling with a sharp snort. "Humans."

Scorponock

His ears go back at Quentine sharp tone but he growls at the man retreating.I don't knowHe said finally sitting down.