Several days had passed since the attack that had left Tahmores so wounded. And as twilight claimed the crown of the world, it happened that the teen was stretching his legs a little on the porch, Brother by his side. He leaned heavily on a crutch, still unable to support his weight on the damaged ankle, and his left hand was bound to his chest to support it.

He made a few laps of the porch, getting a bit of exercise, before he finally sank down, trying to disguise the fact that the small amount of movement had winded him badly, worn him out. Even after several days, he was still weak as a kitten, and, as with all who are accustomed to honing their bodies as they might a weapon, Tahmores was annoyed and frustrated. Why was it taking so long to recover? He sighed and leaned against Brother, closing his eyes and burying his face in the wolf's fur as he waited for his strength to return.

A lone howl split the night air, causing the foresty green eyes to flash open. A second howl joined the song, and several more, until finally the small tremulous voices of the older pups joined in what was probably their very first pack-song, a sign that they were accepted as adults. Listening, Tahmores' eyes closed again, remembering the first time he himself had been permitted to join packsong, and how proud he'd been. It was one of his better memories.

Brother shifted a little, and Tahmores' eyes opened again, and the deep green eyes met a pair of brown ones, reading the desire deep in Brother's heart. Brother missed pack life, but he did not want to abandon Tahmores, especially when his boy was so wounded and vulnerable. The wolf's heart ached with missing the joy of howling in harmony with others, but he was afraid to leave. Tahmores' eyes grew a little bright, feeling a lone tear track down his face as he spoke one word. Prishaar. Go.

Brother's surprised gaze met his, concern mingled with his desire now. But the boy reached up and scratched in the wolf's ruff, repeating the word. Finally, Brother got to his feet, knowing that he had to leave Tahmores, if only for a little while, because the boy was in no shape to go with him. His salmon tongue reached out to wash Tahmores' face, and he turned abruptly to trot away.

The green eyes followed Brother's retreating form, feeling his heart twist within him as the sound of his paws faded into the darkness. Smiling sadly, he lay down on his right side and curled up, crying without making a single noise. Tahmores was a human, and he loved his human family, but without other wolves, his life was not complete, his heart not full. His tears were the tears of a pup, longing for his long-dead wolven family.

A pair of golden eyes watched the wolf leave the human. Tiger cocked his head as the human rolled over, and the cat spotted the tears hit the floor. Walking slowly round the corner of the house, The ranch cat yowled gently at the boy, his tail lifting up in a friendly way. The cat trotted towards Tahmores and when he reached the boy, he yowled sitting in front of the human. The tip of his tail twitched from side to side, the cat spoke to the boy again. Hello, I'm Tiger, Why are you crying? A paw reached out to gently bat the boy on his arm as if to try and get his attention. Tiger dipped his head down, trying to find the boy's face in his curled up ball and yowled again, but more quietly this time.

The Bengal cat was larger than the average house cat, but was still just that, a house cat. Tiger liked to voice himself, especially to communicate to humans, but all failed to understand him properly. That was what annoyed him most about the humans. Them thinking the understood, when really the cats would just go along with it to please them. His coat was a tawny yellow / gold with dark rosettes adorning the base layer.

A soft yowl caught his attention, and he uncurled a bit to spot the oncoming feline. He wasn't as well connected with cats as he was with wolves and other canines, but he understood Tiger's thought well enough. He let a purr come forward, which was accomplished by the trilling of his tongue, but it was the sad purr that cats used when they were lonely or hurt. It said, I let him go... so I am alone. But he reached his good hand up to be sniffed and inspection, though he did not move out of his curl. The tears continued to fall, but they were slowing. Communication with an animal always distracted him somewhat.

He was beautiful, and he knew it. The Irish imported Connemara stallion moved with defined grace and beauty, his dial lifted. And upon that dial was a bridle made of the finest leathers, but it wasn't like the white brujo cared. As he came upon the ranch, his first initial thoughts were "People!" And he came forth to see the injured Tahmores, his trotting slowed and his deep brown eyes turned soft. He stepped onto the porch, and nudged the boy lightly, his large hooves clopping on the wooden deck. No one should have tears, when dear old Sobe was around! Well, he wasn't that old, but he liked the saying.

Nix moved with dark silence, his dusty black coat giving him the perfect aid in the darkness for hiding. He leapt onto the porch, coming from behind Sobe, and said in a soft voice Boo. The horse startled, and shied to the left, where upon his eyes landed on the wolf. He gave a snort, then turned back to Tahmores. The wolf however, just turned his eyes to the boy, watching him closely. He had been around humans, but rarely. He was a being of darkness, taking after his father Torture more then anything. Vixen, however, could be seen in his long legs and body.

Tahmores looked up at Sobe, smiling a little. He did not even move as Sobe shied, not at all nervous. Being so close to nature as he was, animals could often comfort him more than people. So he reached up a hand to be inspected by Sobe, voice soft as he smiled without teeth. Greetings, Son of the Mare of the Morning.

And his eyes turned to Nix, a low whine leaving him to greet the wolf before he spoke in English again. Hello, pad-brother. May your hunting always yielded just reward. It was a traditional greeting between wolves in his pack.

The cat's ears perked as Tahmores let out a sad purr. The cats body sunk a little, showing his sympathy. Im sorry to hear that. Came the softly yowled reply. The hand that was reached forward was tentatively sniffed, as Tiger's cautious eyes met the tear stained ones of the boy. After a few seconds of inspection, the Bengal cat finally relaxed. He began to sound a comforting purr as he slunk gracefully closer to Tahmores, curling up in front of the boys face with bright green eyes. Then the horse appeared. Those green eyes grew even wider in fright as the skittish feline shot away from the large hooves of the stallion. A hiss sounded from Tiger, a warning to stay away from him. Then a wolf arrived! How strange to see predator and prey getting along! Confused, Tiger hissed quietly again to the two animals, What the hell! Who are you? Why are you not fighting?!

The cat slowly came out from underneath the hedge with narrowed eyes, muscles coiled in case either animal was to try and attack him. Body low to the ground in defence, Tiger slunk round slowly towards Tahmores and even though he thought the boy wouldn't understand, the cat spoke quietly to him, I wouldn't trust them, for it is strange to see predator and prey acting so civil.

Tahmores released his own purr in response to Tiger's, smiling softly without teeth. But when his new friend shot away, he let a low yowl leave him, clearly saying, Hey, it's alright. He sat up as Tiger came back toward him, reaching to scratch behind the cat's ears, sounding a soothing purr, for though he hadn't understood Tiger's words, he knew what the cat was thinking due to body posture and the slow swishing of his tail.

Then again, the boy knew why Nix was so comfortable around horses: Nix had been raised at the Ranch, a place where predator guarded prey, and even befriended them. He finally spoke aloud, in his mother's native tongue. Blath meenar lirpa. Breeshink. It's alright. These things... they happen here.

Blacktip stalked across the yard, ignoring the warning barks of the Ranch dogs. He tilted his head when he saw the group. This was...different. A bunch of animals and a boy. He wagged his tail and yipped, "Hello?" He was in a submissive posture, knowing that they were more than him.

Sobe sent an inquisitive look to the cat, but said nothing.

Nix, however did. After sending a venomous glare to the cat, he said softly If I attacked a horse, mom would eat me alive. She says horses are to be admired, not eaten. The connemara stallion preened at that. That we should! The stallions voice was enough to make any female of his species drool. Deep and sexy, with that lilting irish accent, Sobe knew how to work his magic. Now his real name was not Sobe, but it was a lot easier to say that then "Shadows Midnight White Beauty of Love" God he hated that name, so he was simply Sobe, after that delicious drink that his old master had shared with him. His eyes turned towards Blacktip, and he offered a flick of his pearly white tail. Hello there. Come close now, boy, lets have a look at a gorgeuous creature such as yourself. He had never seen a Jackal (or African Wild Dog....) And was quite enchanted by the males colors. Nix, however, not so much. He may not be a guard dog, and he may not be all that trustworthy but this was home. His terrain. The males eyes followed Blacktip, but still he said nothing.

The African Wild Dog smiled and stepped forward cautiously. "Thank you for the compliment." He said, still wagging his tail. "You're quite handsome yourself. My name is Blacktip." He sat down and looked up at Sobe. His name could be deceiving at first glance, as his bushy tail appeared to be white-tipped. He was named for the speck of black at the end, and the black bands that went around the white fur.

Never before had the boy seen an African Wild Dog. His curiousity was immediately aroused, and he let loose a whine to reassure Blacktip that it was safe to come, as well as to reassure Nix that it would be okay. As Blacktip came forward, he let loose a series of barks and whines. They were a little off because they were coming from a human throat, but they translated to the basic greeting between the canine peoples. Then he lapsed into his mother's tongue, voice soft and reassuring. Greetings, pad-brother. What brings one of your type so far west?

Blacktip approached Tahmores, wagging his tail and chirping back. "The humans brought me to a cage nearby, but I escaped." He replied, wondering how a human could understand canine language so well. His keepers rarely understood him, and nobody understood him this well besides this one boy.

Nix gave a smile to Blacktip, then looked up at the highly priced stallion. What about you? You don't look like you're from here either. The stallion gave a grin and said proudly Thats 'cause I'm from Ireland. The land there is beautiful and green, for miles and miles. He bobbed his head up and down, the reins slapping against his neck. He was quite proud of his heritage, even if the others did not know of it or him.

Tahmores gave Blacktip a sympathizing whine, once again reaching out his good hand to be inspected by anyone who cared to, though it was vaguely directed at Blacktip.

He would have stood up to properly greet Sobe, but he was still, as of yet, winded from his small exercise, so he smiled up at the horse, no teeth showing as was his habit. He gave a soft and slightly odd version of the whinny that he had often heard the ranch horses use in greeting one another, for he always felt better for using the language of the animal he was speaking to. Meanwhile, he eyed Sobe with the weight of one who knows quality horseflesh when he sees it, and he let out a low whistle, a startling sound after his several minutes of animal noises. Sobe was a fine fellow indeed.

Blacktip's tail kept wagging as he sniffed Tahmores' hand. "Where did you come from?" He asked with a whine. He looked at the others out of the corner of his eyes.