god_of_the_arena: (Default)
[personal profile] god_of_the_arena
Someone at the vet's office gave him the girl's number. He'd been told that she was one of the people that helped Bran and Foha when he brought them in, starved and bloodied. He hadn't had the chance to meet her when he picked the dogs up again.

Daine, she was called.

He ended up leaving a message on her phone, giving his name, the relation he had to the dogs in his care, and asked if she would be willing to visit their farm. He'd been told she was exceedingly good with animals, and whether Gannicus liked to admit it or not, he realized he might need just a bit of help. He was relieved to get a call back, and gave her the address.

Their homestead had come a long way from when they first bought it; the family had changed as well. There were still touches of Hild all over, even if she no longer lived with them, or in Darrow at all. He wanted to find some more permanent way to mark her presence... He would think of something.

He awaited the girl on the stone fence between the pastures and the road; there was another, sturdy wooden fence behind that, already lined with sheep wire. At his feet were three dogs: Foha and Bran, the fighting dogs Daine had likely met before, and Aster.

Date: 2018-03-31 10:57 pm (UTC)
wildmage_daine: (intrigued)
From: [personal profile] wildmage_daine
'Agron' doesn't ring any bells, but 'Hild' certainly does, and Daine frowns in sympathy. "I met Hild," she says, a bit cautiously, wary of making things worse. "I didn't know her well, but... she reminded me of home, a bit. I'm sorry she's gone."

Foha is a warm weight against her leg, and Daine tickles the base of his ears. "He says this is a good pack," she says, indicating him with a tip of her head. "He's not sure about the cat, though." Venturing a smile, she adds, "I'd offer to talk to him, but cats don't take kindly to being told how to behave."

Her gaze goes a little distant as she lets her magic wander a bit, taking a mental tally of all the minds present. "You've a fair number here, haven't you?" she asks after blinking him back into focus. "Are they getting on all right?"

Date: 2018-04-01 01:34 am (UTC)
wildmage_daine: (considering)
From: [personal profile] wildmage_daine
Daine nods along with his explanation. None of the sheep feel ill or otherwise like they're doing poorly, so it doesn't surprise her that Gannicus knows his business. The more he speaks, in fact, the better she likes him. It's clear that he knows his animals well -- enough to know that even a well-intentioned dog might do harm to a sheep by accident, especially one not bred for things like tending.

"They're not sheepdogs," she acknowledges with a wry smile -- which turns closer to a wince as he shows her the bite mark on his arm. He doesn't look troubled by it, but that doesn't mean it's not a problem. In Darrow, a dog might be put down for such a thing, no matter the circumstances. Foha looks guilty enough that she can't bring herself to scold him. Besides, there's not much point when he knows full well what went wrong.

It does need to be sorted, though. Especially with sheep on the property. Mithros knows she won't be able to explain to them that the dogs didn't mean any harm if something goes wrong.

She nibbles her thumbnail, considering. "I can't change their nature," she says, "and I wouldn't want to, even if I could. It'll always be safest to keep them on different sides of a sturdy fence." Part of the problem, she knows, is that it'd be natural for the sheep to run from a dog, and that might be too exciting for a young dog to resist. She doesn't expect a remembered lecture from her to make much of a difference in that sort of situation.

An idea starts to form. "Can we go take a look at the sheep?" she asks. "I ought to get their measure."

Date: 2018-04-01 02:40 am (UTC)
wildmage_daine: (smile - tiny)
From: [personal profile] wildmage_daine
The dogs each get a last pat and some whispered praise before Daine follows Gannicus over the fence. "He likes the pulling," she translates as she clambers over, declining the assistance with a smile and a shake of her head. "He knows it pleases you." That's all to the good; dogs'll behave better for someone they want to please.

She'll want to meet the ram, too, but she's not too worried about him for starters. He'll likely have a good pair of horns and the inclination to use them if he feels pressed. Even a solid, stubborn sort of dog will feel the kind of blow an angry ram could dole out. The ewes and wethers might be able to handle themselves too, but a lamb wouldn't be much of a match.

"I'd like to start at the barn, then," she says. "We'll see if the ewes are made of stern stuff. I can say hello to the ram, too, but I wouldn't expect a ram to suffer any nonsense, and sheep can pack more of a wallop than folk realize."

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Gannicus

December 2019

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