Language Barrier (A Werewolf Mate Story)

Chapter 4

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Skipper was not like his name suggested. He was an unusually tall Arab, standing at just over 16 hands and he was a dark Chesnutt color. Instead of bouncing around like a rock does as it is skips across a like, he glides around the arena at a graceful, elegant posting trot. His canter can be like riding on a cloud; when he behaves himself. Today however, he refused to pick up a collected canter. After the third time I cued for one, and he still ignored me, I put the reigns in one hand and spanked him as hard as I could with my crop.  This finally made him pick up the canter, though not without him throwing in a protesting buck.

I suppose that I am to blame for his grumpy mood. Today, I just could not stay focused on what I was doing. It had been two days since my encounter with the wolves in the woods, and with each moment that passes, I was put more on edge.

Just thinking about it made my hands tighten on the reigns, and Skipper threw his head to the side in protest of the uncomfortable new pressure. With a sigh, I planted my butt firmly in the English saddle, and half-halted until he came to a full stop.

“Sorry boy”, I muttered, as I scratched his neck and gave him back all the reigns. I had only been riding for a half an hour, though I had planned to get in at least an hour of riding done today. Sadly, it was impossible to ride while when your brain was not focused.

Deciding that I wasn’t going to get any more work done today on Skipper, I gave him a resting lap. Then I walked to the center of the dirt arena in my back yard and got off of him. Inside the barn was an area to tie him up and un-tack him, so that is where I went first. After taking off all his tack, I walk him around to the back of the barn were the hose was located and tied him up. Skipper was in very good shape, but the sweat on his body showed that he was not immune to the warm weather.

I let my mind wander to other things as I gave him a nice, cool bath.

The wolf knew that I disobeyed him, or at least I think he did. I had opened the door when he asked, just not in the way he wanted me to. Also, just in case he had followed me home, I took long detours and back roads instead of coming straight home. Plus, I have been ignoring Melissa’s requests to come over for a sleep over.  It was not easy to come up with excuses not to hang out with Melisa. It was the middle of summer and she knew I never did anything. She was practically my only friend, and I had no job except for working for Carrie on occasion. I could not ignore her for much longer.

But for my own sanity, I could not bear to be around any other wolves right now. I do not know what I was to do if I was around Mason or his parents and accidently saw their mark. Their mark would confirm my suspicion; the one I was trying very hard not to dwell on. The suspicion I had about the three wolves in the forest.

When Skipper’s bath was over, I walked him around the property for almost an hour. It was just to dry him off, but also gave me an excuse to bask in the warm sun. Throughout the whole time, my mind could not stop picture the man’s tattoo. Even the teeny, tiny part of my brain that housed my wolf could not stop thinking about it.

“Hey Mikki D’s!” called someone from across the long field. The person was too far away for me to see with my human eyesight, but there was only one person who called me by that ridiculous nick-name.

“What’s up Mel Bell’s?” I replied to the approaching figure. Of course Melissa would come to my house. I almost smacked my head at my own stupidity. Mel was my best and only friend. She knew when was avoiding her.

“Awe hi Skipper baby,” Mel finally said when she was close enough to scratch him on the nose. He tried to nip at her fingers, but I smacked him on the nose before he could. He could never get it through that walnut sized brain that fingers were not food. As pretty as this horse could look when he was ridden, he sure had terrible ground manners that I could not work him out of.