Nothing Personal [Teen Wolf (TV) Fanfic]

Crossing The Lines

The Next Day:

Usually on the weekends, Tabitha's schedule consisted of tennis and yard work. Usually two things don't take up a whole day for an average person but most people don't live on a ranch like Tabitha did. With 100 acres to cover, Tabitha had to quickly throw tennis practice aside as she had missed her morning slot by an hour. Strict on the Reed schedule, she ignored her disappointment –toughen it up, was her father's daily philosophy –and skipped to her next planned outfit, a lazy blue plaid button up shirt, rolling the cuffs to her elbows, over comfortable but durable faded jeans, tucked neatly under expensive black floral carved boots. As the sun rose over the orange hazed morning sky, she lifted up her wide brimmed hat and placed it over her head with ease, right after tying her hair into a short pony tail that tickled her back as she walked swiftly to the barn down the dirt road. She was passed by her brother –Trent –driving the older Ford 4x4 model, carrying a full load of fresh hay for the livestock. She waved at him but he didn't seem to notice as he sped on by, turning sharply towards the house.

She slipped on a sleek pair of aviators over her ivy eyes as she lifted her head higher, catching the sun's intense glare but also the bright red face of the barn, doors ajar as Tom guided his horse outside, ready to mount the dark solid colored thoroughbred. Tom waved to her briefly before kicking his horse in gear, trotting quickly. She reached the doors quickly and made a slick entrance. Some horses paced nervously around her, not used to her change and fearing her internal predator, except for her favorite, a fearless and sassy chestnut paint who stared her in directly in the eyes. The horse neighed cheerfully as she approached. She smiled brightly at her horse.

"Hey Callie," she cooed, reached through the bars to stroke the horse's face. Calypso or 'Callie' as she was fondly nicknamed by Tabitha, neighed softly while extending her face forward so Tabitha would have a better angle. Tabitha laughed. Other than having bonded with Callie over a seven year period and sharing similar personality traits, Tabitha adored her horse because even after her change, Callie still accepted her and one of the few horses that still allowed Tabitha to touch her. "Come on, we got a long day ahead of us," she murmured as she unlocked the stall but kept it closed for a moment as she went into another stall, a much bigger one, stocked with different pairs of equipment. With ease, after years of doing so, she gathered a heavy Trail saddle horizontally, heaving it over the beam outside, then retrieved a matching blue set of closed-ended "romal" rawhide reigns, looping the quirt so it wouldn't swing to bruise her already battered legs, and then made a third trip to snatch a bright red and black blanket, her favorite color combination. She then returned to the stall to pull out the patient American paint who nudged Tabitha's shoulders affectionately. Tabitha reciprocated the motion and ran her hands through the horse's pure white main.

The 15 hand tall paint nodded its head nonchalantly, never minding his owner –despite her new… instincts so-to-speak, as she snapped the straps of light brown leather –the shade almost matching Callie's bright brown patches over the clean white coat of fur –onto its torso, adjusted the deep seated saddle securely before guiding the strong mare out of her stall and outside of the freshly painted, solid red, two story barn where she abruptly stop to mount her. Pulling up with her calf and upper arm strength, she fell uncomfortable on the thick padding, leaning back comfortably against the high cattle, holding the reigns confidently in her hands. With two small kicks from her the horse abided its master faithfully as it trotted down the familiar route towards the green pasture where the cows grazed carelessly, mooing loudly over the early morning air. She smiled at the serene scene.

Suddenly the clicks of the hooves approaching fast behind her caught her attention as she saw her father run on his intimidating 16 hand black East Bulgarian horse, a breed known for its Diplodocus neck, wide set of shoulders, full chest, and sturdy, muscular legs that intended to support the giant beast. The horse raced up to them and abruptly stopped next to Tabitha and Callie. Her hardened face greeted her father's serious, equal one, as sweat began to drip down the tips of his fading hair onto his dark before a flimsy grin broke out on his worn face. She offered a similar one back.