oom: amarillo, tx - for yrael
True to his word, he's downstairs early, with his bag packed and his gun at his hip. He's ready to head back out to Amarillo, and this time he's taking along a guest for a bit of the ride.
At breakfast, he orders himself bacon and eggs, coffee, and a dish of cream. The first three are for himself. The latter is placed beside him on the bartop.
He figures Yrael has cream-sensing senses no matter what form he's in, so it seemed the quickest way to find him.
At breakfast, he orders himself bacon and eggs, coffee, and a dish of cream. The first three are for himself. The latter is placed beside him on the bartop.
He figures Yrael has cream-sensing senses no matter what form he's in, so it seemed the quickest way to find him.
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The cat, being out of the bag, has no trouble getting himself up onto Doc's shoulders. He lies with claws hooked lightly into the fabric of Doc's vest for balance, looking this way and that as he sniffs the hot desert air. His tail may brush against Doc's arm, occasionally, as it twitches.
"The air here smells so different. Everything is different. Oh, there are similarities to things I have seen before, but this is still completely new to me. I may get down and walk, eventually."
"How far is it to Denver, the way you are going?"
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Doc glances up at the cat, now that he's out of the bag.
"Y'just let me know if you want to get down and walk," he says. "Won't be a problem at all."
Hell, Yrael could probably leap down just fine, even if it is a bit of a drop to the sand below. Doc adjusts the bag so that the pouch is at his side, rather than at his lap, now that he doesn't need to keep the cat balanced on the center of the horse.
"Just gonna pick us up into a bit of a canter," he explains. "Y'may want to hang on."
It's not a gallop, but it's an easy lope that the cat should be able to adjust to.
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"What sorts of animals does one hunt, in this part of the world?"
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As they travel on through the desert, they might come across a lizard or a quail scurrying through the scrub brush in an effort to escape the hooves of the horse.
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"Would you mind a little hunting, today? It is rare that I find such wide open spaces." It makes him want to run.
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They're coming up on some thicker brush, but there are animal tracks between the plants, and the plants themselves are spread out, since there is only so much water available and that means it's sparse even when 'thick'.
"Buffalo are big," he says. "And there aren't any here. We'd be able to see them."
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Cortez is the jumpier of the two horses he rides most often, and he did fall off when the horse came across some birds in the grass on the Barlow ranch, but that was because he hadn't expected him to rear. If the paint chooses to spook, he'll be ready this time.
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Horses are not cars, after all.
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It wasn't good.
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Clear, Texas sky overhead, with a hot blazing sun and reddish earth beneath them, scents and smells all different than that bar and the cold out back.
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"Rather not do that again," he grins, wry.
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Did that cat sound smug?
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Doc smirks.
"Well if you're not tired later, we could race."
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He gets to his feet on Doc's shoulders before leaping lightly down to the ground. That his tail knocks into Doc's hat, possibly knocking it askew as Yrael leaps down, is a complete coincidence. Really.
As the cat runs alongside the cantering horse, it grows larger. He is about the size of a leopard before he has settled into a comfortable, loping run.
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There is really not much to say to that display, especially when he's keeping a solid grip on the reins in his hand because Cortez is now very interested in just what the hell is running alongside them.
Thankfully, for all involved, he does not spook.
Doc fixes his hat with one hand.
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He's being uncharitable. The horses of the Old Kingdom know the smell of Free Magic, and know to get the hell away from it as fast as they can. Earth horses have no such prior knowledge.
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He studies Yrael the not'cat.
"That's a mighty impressive form y'got there," he adds.
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He's not even breathing hard.
He might not be breathing.
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For now? He's enjoying being out of the bar and out where he belongs, which is the desert.
Plus, he's kind of looking forward to watching Yrael hunt.
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It's only when he scares up a bird, a roadrunner to be exact, that he is distracted. The bird runs as a first instinctual reaction, rather than flying, which breaks Yrael's urge to keep running just as soon as the temptation to catch the strange new thing appears.
The half-swerve, half-pounce sends up a sudden cloud of dust.
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