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It was looking like it was going to be another cold one. The howling of the autumn winds rattled the wooden shingles of the stables sheltering the young filly below. It was just her, alone, now. Mother was taken on the cattle drive, and Boss Man was looking to be gone, for at least three weeks. He assured the young mare, however, before he left; that a new ranch hand was going to be by in an hour, for her evening feed. She stamped irritably. She didn't like humans that she didn't know. Humans were so different than the feralfolk like herself; and the anthrofolk, like her anthro-bear Boss Man. He was always so gentle with her; despite his immense size and intimidating manner. But this new human... What if he brushed her mane with the wrong brush? What if he didn't clean her stall correctly? What if he didn't give her a peppermint, like Boss Man always did at the end of the day? She huffed. A plume of steam blew from her nostrils as she glanced, sidelong at the stable gate. Whoever it was, she was not going to be pleasant. He will have to work for his wage; that's for sure.

Time went on, it seemed, for quite a while. The old half-rusted white vintage clock, that always hung by Boss Man's desk in the stable corner, showed it well past the hour appointed for the arrival of the stranger: hired to care for the young filly. She scratched at the stable floor, irritated. First impressions were important, for a new hire. Obviously, this was going to be a long three weeks.

Suddenly, the tell-tale clatter and groan of the stable door, opening, sounded from down the stable hall. Finally! She made a start to look out her stall, at the newcomer; yet stopped. She was not going to be easy to please. She turned around and stared, stubbornly, at the back wall of her stall. I'm not going to move from this spot. If he comes in, there will be payment for keeping me waiting for supper. Staring, resolute, at the worn timbers that comprised the stable wall, she huffed and swept her tail. Should she kick him? The thought flashed through her mind as she listened to the sounds the stranger made, from the..... Boss Man's desk?! The sound was unmistakable. The scraping of the ranch owner's chair across the floorboards made the young filly's ears perk. How dare, he?! Touching Boss Man's chair was unforgivable! She huffed, loudly and whinnied. When Boss Man gets back, from the cattle drive, she would tell him. Oh, yes... insta-fired... The young mare smiled, as images of this new hand being chewed out and escorted from the ranch by his denims, made her oh so happy. She heard her stall door open. Not giving the new stable-hand a sideways glance, she continued staring at the back wall as she spoke; her voice, dripping with veiled contempt.

"You're late." She murmured; keeping her gaze away from the intruder. She huffed, coldly. "I have been waiting, for quite some time now." Which wasn't true, but she didn't want to budge from her resolve to be nasty to the newcomer.

"I'm sorry, girl. My daughter was running late for school, and she has finals this week." The soft-yet-grizzled tone of the new hand's voice made the young mare's ear swivel towards him. Yet, her eyes didn't leave the wall. "It's no excuse, I know. I do apologize. It won't happen again." The filly huffed, again. A thing she usually did, when she got mildly irritated. The noise came louder, now. So as to show this new hire that she wasn't pleased; not one bit. Yet, there was something in the hand's voice; something soothing. And he was a family man? Making sure that his daughter got to school; the care and..... She shook her head, to brush off the feeling.

"Yes, well.... see that it doesn't happen again. I am a prize winner, you know." It wasn't an idle boast, either. Boss Man's office was a veritable shrine to her rodeo and fair contests. Blue first-prize ribbons hung from the office walls like noble standards; and trophies upon trophies of grand-winner contests adorned every shelf, with pride.

"Absolutely. I go to every event, in the county; and I've watched you compete." She felt a pleasant and bristly touch brush along her side. The familiar feeling of her favorite purple brush! She almost made a motion to glance back at the source of the familiar and comfortable feeling; and yet, stopped herself. No. It was a distinctive brush; very different from all the other brushes that Boss Man had and it was so obvious that this brush was especially for her. Nothing that a moron couldn't figure out.

"You are, certainly an impressive filly. In so few seasons, you have won every event you competed in. It's nothing short of astonishing." He had a tone of admiration, which resonated in his voice. One so genuine, that the young mare couldn't help but stand a little straighter.

"Yes, well, when one is born a champion: it is only expected." Her tone of voice was filled with well-deserved pride. Boss Man made it a point to start her competition training at a very early age. He recognized the lineage of Queen of the Mountain; her mother. A blood-line that stemmed from the slopes of northern Italy; and dated back to the Roman emperor's coveted war-horses; famed for their speed and endurance. Her coat pattern, was that of a buckskin American Mustang; a gift from her sire, yet, she sported the frame of her mother's Italian blood-line. Boss Man knew that she was destined to be a champion mare; and he made it his life's work to bring that destiny to the surface; even though the training was exhausting and difficult; often-times bringing the young filly to the point of tears; Boss Man always told her, that she had a strength in her; and he helped her realize that strength.

"I never missed the competitions. My daughter wants to be a ranch-owner when she grows up; and she loves to watch you compete." The brush-strokes were long and gentle; the dust of the day beginning to cloud a little, in the stall. However, even in the dust-laden air, a new smell mingled in the cool breeze that filtered through the slats of the stall windows... something different. The young filly began to notice it. It wasn't here, before.

"I always brought her to the rodeos and competitions up here. Just like her mother did, when she was..." His voice trailed off; almost abruptly. And she could almost hear a tightening of his voice, at the end. ".... I'm sorry, I'm sure you're hungry. I'll get you your...." His voice caught. Catching herself from looking back at him, she queried, half-concerned. Her ear swiveled in his direction; her amethystcolored eyes trailing to the left corner of the stall; still resolute not to avert her stubborn gaze. "Are you oka..." She didn't finish the sentence. A loud sneeze, erupted from behind her, yet away from her direction. It was almost bestial, like a half-bark. The noise was so loud, and unsettling, that it made her shuffle, quickly, a foot or so into the right wall of her stall. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she abandoned her stubborn study of the back wall of her stall. She turned her gaze at the stranger behind her; her eyes flashing, angerly.

"What in the sam-hell was that?!" She stopped, and stared. An extremely handsome well-built middle-aged black-furred wolf; dressed in tan jeans and a red-black checkered flannel shirt stood away from her; wiping his nose in a blue paisley handkerchief. He looked up at her. His golden-eyed gaze then dropped to the straw-covered stall floor. He looked embarrassed. "I'm really sorry about that, girl. Dust gits' to me, sometimes." He wiped his nose as he retreated to the stall corner and blew his nose into the handkerchief. That was the smell. He was a anthrofolk. Why didn't she recognize his scent before?!

The young mare just stared at him; not even noticing that her favorite purple brush lay on the straw below her feet. "Are.... are you alright? Do you need a minute?" Genuine concern flooded her. She usually wasn't this dirty; Boss Man's son took her out riding, this morning, and forgot to brush her. Her face flushed. "I.... I'm sorry. I didn't realize..." The wolf waved a paw at her, assuredly. "It's alright, girl. I'm not allergic, or anythin'" He pocketed his handkerchief. "Perfectly natural." His smile made the young filly's heart thunder in her chest. He really was quite handsome. His toned body told tales of outdoor labor, and lots of it. His eyes spoke of a fierceness, yet gentleness that reminded the filly of someone. She did not remember who.

"I'd sure would like to tan the hide of the idiot who left you in the stall, this dirty. The shame of it." He shook his head, bewildered. She, in turn, cast her gaze to the floor,embarrassed. "It doesn't happen often..." She half-whispered. She felt like she could lay on the ground and die, right there.... why? Why did he make her feel this way? He was a stranger and she didn't even know his name. This... wolf... "Still," the ranch hand bent down and picked up her brush; dusting it off and trailing his thumb over the bristles, to flick-clean the dust from the brush. "even once, putting a gorgeous gal, like you, in the stalls like this... its shameful." The young wolf stepped back up to the side of her, raising the nowclean brush and glanced respectfully at her. "May I continue?" He asked. The young mare nodded, slowly and returned her gaze to the back wall as the wolf-hand continued his duties; brushing her coat clean.

The evening went on, in silence. The young mare's head spun with questions and sharp pings of shame as the ranch hand continued to work. He cleaned her well, fed her, and hummed a soft western tune that the mare did not recognize. It was pleasant... surprisingly so. Her feelings of contempt, melted away to shame. Perhaps he had been a human? What was wrong with her? Her eyes cast down to the floor. She was ashamed... even if he had been a human, would that have made a difference?

After a little while, the ranch hand shouldered his shovel and hefted his tool bag he retrieved earlier, from the Boss Man's office. "Well, darlin', Ill see you in the mornin'." The young mare, suddenly, looked up, and stammered, slowly.

"I...." She started to speak, yet unsure of what to say. "...I didn't..." The wolf turned, and cocked his head to the side, quizzically. "Didn't what, hon?" His expression showed compassion and a hint of understanding, yet he waited, respectfully. "I didn't mean...." The young filly continued, poorly. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest. Why did this wolf make her feel this? She wasn't sure she liked this feeling. It was strange.... foreign... Yet, the ranch hand reached into his pocket, and pulled from it, a peppermint horse-biscuit. He offered it up to her. A smile, gentle and sincere, played across his features.

"Its only natural, hon... You don't know me, and I was a brute to not introduce myself when I first got in, in the first place..." The young filly tentatively retrieved the biscuit. Munching slowly; her gaze turning down, towards the wall of her stall. "My name, is Jack. My friends call me Jackie." His smile was warm and welcoming. Something that made the young mare's visage flush. "And yourn'?" The young mare whispered... "Whi..." The wolf chuckled. A soft, yet kind sound; which sent butterflies cascading and dancing in her chest. "Sorry, come again?" Jack knelt down, so that his gaze could meet hers. "Whinny.... my....my name is Whinny. Boss Man calls me Little Sister... that's my competition name.... but...." The young wolf reached out, then paused; his fingers, inches from the mare's muzzle. "May I pet you, Whinny?" Her gaze rose to meet his. His golden eyes shown in the glowing moon-light that cascaded through the upper windows of the stables. Whinny nodded, her consent, and felt his paw brush over her muzzle. It was warm... and strong... yet unbelievably gentle. She couldn't help but lean into his touch. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent. It was a soft musky scent. One, born of outdoor life, and set into a world where there was a home... an unfamiliar home.... cascading motes of honey and wheat, mixed with the scent of something more.... something different.

"That's a good girl. I wanna' be friends with you, if that's okay." Almost feeling like her body was moving on it's own, she nodded, and took a couple steps forward, pressing her muzzle up against his touch. "I.... I'd like that.... and.... I'm sorry for how I treated you.... it wasn't kind of me. And... I.." Jack chuckled once again, and continued petting her. "Now, don't you worry, darlin'. I get that treatment a lot. You'd be surprised how often a wolf like me, is met with a cold welcome." Whinny jolted up and stammered, loudly. "I.. never meant..." Jack smiled. His teeth flashing in the night. "I'm just teasing, darlin'. No offense taken. No offense meant."

He stood up. His muscles, flexing as he winced. "Hon, It's been a long night... but Ill see you in the morning, okay? My daughter should be home from school, and has been, fer' hours now, I imagine." Whinny's breath caught in her lungs. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to know more about him...but his statement stopped her from objecting. She nodded, slowly. "Oh... okay." Whinny's head dropped, slowly. Jack's worried expression sent the young mare's heart dancing. He cradled her head with his strong hand and gently lifted her face, so her eyes could meet his. "Hey.... are you okay, darlin? Jackie will be back soon, don't worry. We'll talk in the 'mornin." Then, to Whinny's astonishment, he bent down, and kissed her forehead. An explosion of warm electricity cascaded through her chest.

Jack walked out of the stall, and closed the gate behind him, flashing a comforting smile at the young mare before turning to head for the stable door. Whinny slid her head out from the top of the gate, and watched as Jack scooted Boss Man's chair, back into it's customary place. "Jack.... Jackie... thank you for today... and again.... I'm sorry." Grabbing a flat-brim hat from the peg, to the right of the gate, he donned his headgear and tipped the brim, respectfully to her. "Don' worry about it, darlin'... Ill see ya' in the 'mornin."

The gate closed, and Whinny was, again, left alone. However, the night was a lot warmer, than usual; and she could still feel the wolf-hand's lips on her forehead. She rested her muzzle on the edge of her stall gate, smiled, and hoped that these next three weeks would never end