Her human always thinks he’s the clever one. It was wonderful of him to build her a nice house on his, would make the cold wind not rake through her fur on those long days when he was acting odd with those other humans.

  Pear Human was her favorite of them. But the way Pear Human made her human act was not good. He had priorities. Like brushing and patting and riding. He hasn’t done much riding since they had come to the green place. Some of the green tasted good. But it doesn’t fill her belly the way she liked. So much work.

  The bag of grain in the back of her new house was teasing her. She knew this was a trick. How many times had she been with her human on his hunts? She watched him for as long as she could remember catch his food—sometimes it was her food too—with little traps. His favorite was the box with food in it for the small ones. Did he really think she didn’t see the gate to the house? She knew what that meant. He’s clever enough to understand that the straw bed in his house is where she sleeps now. He’ll see her way eventually. Just like in the brown place, his bed is her bed.

  That bag of grain looks full. And he’s not holding it. She sniffed at it from the opening. No pears, so disappointing.

  She looked at the gate. She looked at the bag. Too far away. She had to go all the way in to get her supper. But where is her human?

  Probably talking to Pear Human again. Pear Human forgot the pears yesterday, most likely because the Little Shit Human let her have a few when the green was still wet. She liked the Little Shit Human. That one was fun. Pear Human only takes her human away but she does have pears and that made it tolerable. The Little Shit Human makes her human’s heart change beats more.

  She wanted to play. But she was hungry.

  She looked at the gate and cocked her head at it. A short raking of her hoof was all she needed to stop from laughing too loud. Her human would know if she laughed. He thinks he’s the clever one. Well, a bite on the string to it and a tug should do the trick and teach him.

  Now, that grain looks so full. And it has the chewy ones, too. This is the kind that the stallions eat. Her mouth was dripping. She went to it and rubbed her nose on the opening to fit it inside.

  Draka had found the perfect spot on the roof. He had been careful that she didn’t see him go up there and lay himself prone across it to keep his head down. She couldn’t possibly know. Vigora was smart. Sometimes she was too smart. Sometimes she was the dumbest animal he had ever taken as a companion. With the Lord’s help, today would be a day like when she thought a pond was shallow and jumped with all four hooves in it to find it was an overflowing well.

  He put his ear to the thatching and listened through the beam beneath. She was inside. The smell of Maud’s stew was seeping through the roof and all he wanted was to be able to eat in peace without Aurie coming to yell at him because Vigora refuses to stay put. She had learned not to steal food in the camps, why didn’t she apply that here? The rules are essentially the same. Alright, she’s in. Draka tugged the string.

  He kept pulling. Hand over hand until the end finally came to him and let out a defeated sigh. Then smiled proudly as he listened to her munching on his way off of the roof. If he could get there fast enough, he can shut her in. He rounded the house to find Vigora staring at him from in front of the house with her ears turned in different directions. She was smacking her lips at him.

  He threw his arms and stomped. Vigora meandered toward the remaining water barrel beside the shack in a show of ignoring him. He leapt in front of her and pointed with a stomp. Vigora went to step around him. Draka blocked her again, this time with a stern look. She took an awkward step back from him. He stomped toward her. She stepped back more. Her rear was nearly inside the stable.

  Another step and stomp. Another step back from Vigora. One more. He went to stomp at her again but she turned around and stepped in. Good girl, Draka smiled as he walked to grab the gate. She turned around the moment the latch clicked.

  He rubbed her nose and ruffled between her ears. He knew she wouldn’t fight him as much if there was food for her. And he had the water barrel on the one end so that it was partially outside to catch the rain. He rubbed her cheek. She’ll learn to appreciate it.

  Slapping his hands at finally being able to have peace in the mornings, Draka had a skip in his step toward his front door. He threw open the door to make the air burst out and dowse him in the smell of that delicious stew Maud left him while he was hunting. He didn’t find the boar but had downed three owls and a deer that was now hanging from the shack, ready for skinning. One bowl of stew and he’ll make quick work of it. Well, probably not just one bowl. If it is anything like the last one, he will be hard pressed not to have it all before the night is through, possibly before the night fully set in.

  The gate latch clicked. Draka was only a single step inside, his hand still on the door. He glared toward the ceiling. A little help?

  He went back onto the porch to see Vigora watching him with her ears facing him. He stomped and pointed. She jerked her head up and down and stomped her hooves. He leapt from the porch to in front of her and did it again. Her head dipped and jerked at him. He brushed a hand over her nose toward it and pointed. She scoffed in his face.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  That’s when he grabbed her mane and tugged her toward the stable. Once close enough, he slapped her rear for her to go in. She turned to him and he could have sworn she glared at him. He pushed her by leaning his shoulder into her rear. She went in. There, he swung the gate to latch again. Now, if she will just stay in there.

  Her back leg raised. Draka’s eyes went wide. He leapt to the side with a roll just in time for the gate to fly open and the latch to flutter across the road to bounce off of the shack wall into the water barrel with a loud ploomp and splash. That’s it. Where’s a stick? She nearly kicked him! That little shit needs to be reminded who is the human and who is the horse.

  He grabbed one of the boards the soldiers had left and held it like a club as he rushed to keep Vigora from walking out again. She didn’t walk out. She galloped through him, knocking him off his feet and the board somewhere beside the porch. Vigora pranced around him and jumped to kick dust on him as he climbed back onto his feet.

  He didn’t bother brushing himself off. No, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she had ruined half of his work that afternoon. For hours he had scrubbed. He scrubbed his trousers, scrubbed her saddle, scrubbed his boots, scrubbed his shirt, his hair, his arm pits, his hands, his feet, his fingers and fingernails, toes and toenails, his face. The soap did smell good, lavender and honey with a bit of something else that he intended to ask Gerard about, and it was strong enough that he knew he wouldn’t smell of the river he bathed in. He even shaved. Isa had often said that he had a habit of missing food on his beard when he wiped his mouth, so it only seemed logical that it added to the smell everyone was complaining about. Vigora didn’t mind how he smelled, or she wouldn’t be making him chase her around the house and then around the shack and in circles in between them and across the tilled field between his house and the Clevlans’ so she can continue sleeping beside him.

  The chase stopped when he heard laughter that made Vigora stop trotting around the house just fast enough to be out of his reach and go greet Maud. She was nearly doubled over, leaning on the side of the porch, from laughing. He shook his head. This was anything but funny. He was trying to make peace with her mother.

  Maud met Vigora with a rub on Vigora’s cheek. Vigora was kneading her nose against Maud’s pocket. Maud pushed her nose away from the side of her dress and shot a brimming smile at Draka.

  “You looked like you needed some help,” Maud sauntered toward the stable, clicking her teeth for Vigora to follow. Vigora scoffed at Draka then raised her head and practically pranced at her victory over him after Maud.

  Maud walked into the stable and stood at the far end. She lifted a pear from her pocket and winked at him around Vigora, who had stopped in the entrance with her ears flat across her forehead. That damned horse was too smart. Vigora took a step in and reached with a stretched neck for the pear. Maud tucked it back.

  “No,” Maud pressed further into the stable. Vigora followed. Draka rounded the house and watched with a lean. Will it work? Does the girl have her? Maud slid along the walls, making Vigora turn herself with each reach for the pear that Maud plucked from her. “Not yet. Come on, girl, you want the pear?”

  Maud slipped out the entrance and to the side so Draka could close the gate and wedge the board across it. Vigora split her lips and reached with her teeth for the pear but Maud plucked it with a tap of the finger on the horse’s nose.

  “You stay in here or I won’t bring them anymore,” Maud pointed at the back of the stable. Vigora followed her finger then looked back at her with a betrayed look. “This is your house now. Draka’s bed isn’t yours anymore. This is where you sleep. If you stay, I’ll bring you another one every day. And, maybe,” she dug an orange out of her pocket and held it for Vigora to see, “One of these.”

  Vigora blew butterflies at her.

  “Here,” Maud held the pear up and Vigora took it with a careful chomp. Maud rubbed the bridge of Vigora’s nose and kissed her cheek. “You can have the orange in the morning if you’re here when I come with breakfast.”

  Draka was dumbfounded. Vigora did a circle in the stable and lay in the hay pile he had put for her bed with a content huff. It worked. The girl got her to stay put. He blinked at Maud and bowed his thanks.

  “She’s smart. No one can argue that,” Maud winked, “Have you eaten yet?”

  Draka shook his head, suddenly reminded of how good the air smelled near the house.

  “I hope you like this one, too. I put a little something in it for you,” Maud looked him over and grinned. He saw the difference in the grin. It was unlike any other she had before. Warmer, welcoming, but not in a friendly way. In a way that made him suspicious. Or maybe he was reading it wrong like he always does with people’s expressions. He can have entire conversations in silence with animals as if they were speaking to him, but he always seemed to be wrong about what people, especially women, actually meant with their body language. “You should keep it this way,” she wagged a finger at his chin, “I like seeing your face.”

  Nope, he read it right. Shit.

  She passed him with a brush of his arm and a squeeze to begin back down the road to her house, “You smell good.” He straightened with a very small bow to thank her for the compliment though his crooked brow and gaping mouth likely told her otherwise.

  She only chuckled and waved, “Goodnight, Draka. Don’t leave too early, I’m bringing you a sandwich for breakfast.”

  Draka shook his head as he watched her saunter a little too well down the road. Every now and then, she looked back to see that he was still watching with his head tilted and narrowed eyes. She smiled wider each time until finally turning around to walk backwards while shouting, “Go eat, you barbarian! And don’t finish it this time, you’ll no get another stew until day after tomorrow.”

  He took a long, deep breath. A part of him wonders if she'll stop bringing him food when he puts an end to whatever those looks of hers are insinuating. He also wasn't sure it would be worth it. She was a good cook. He shook his head at himself and glowered toward the sky.

  He should have refused the land and fled into the wilds. He understood the wilds. Bears and lions don’t have ulterior motives.