Closed//Finding Freedom

Zoey sighed softly and wandered in the cool air wondering what on earth had possessed her to come to this place. She had always been an outsider even when it came to being around her own kind. She was not a normal girl of course. No one here was exactly normal. There were a mixture of different races. She was the rarest of all. Though her race, the lycanthropes were not rare her exact shifting abilities were. She was a tigress. A black tigress with silver stripes that made it seem as if moonlight laid across her soft fur. She shook her head trying to clear it and wondering at the same time why she had gotten so bent out of shape by pretty much being seen as nothing more than a hassle to that man named Riley. She hissed lightly at her own stupidity and as she wandered she perked up a bit when her sensitive ears and sense of smell picked up on animals. A smile lifted the corners of her lips making her seem goddess like as she headed toward the sound and smell. She found a Carriage house and slipped into the door shutting it firmly behin her and walking through to where the animals were housed. She caught sight of the horses and smiled happily letting her hand reach out when she was close as if she was going to pet the large animal but then letting him bring his nose the rest of the way to her outstretched fingertips. She sighed with contentment as she felt the stress slip away at he contact of animal to flesh and stepped closer to the animal as she laid her head agaisnt her and inhled the sweet odor of the horse. She was constantly around other animals it made her feel so much better. She had never once been apart of anything and she was never accepted by humans or any other race for that matter. She felt a single tear slip down her cheek as a wave of lonliness swept through her and she remembered the last time she had tried to slip into crowd and try to belong. She had found out the hard way that no matter what anyone says they will never love her or want her for who she is.

“You can take the boy out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the boy,” mumbled Gunnar as he entered the coach house. He’d been wandering the halls of the castle for hours it seemed and it hadn’t been until he’d arrived at the coach house that he felt somewhat at home. The overbearing opulence of Caislin Hallows still showed here and there, but not as much as it had in the castle.

The scent of straw and horses and leather was so strong in the couch house that even Gunnar with his regular human senses felt enveloped in it. Granted, they weren’t the smells of the plains, but they were at least reminiscent of a barn where the horses were kept when they weren’t saddled. Shutting his eyes for a few moments, he let his imagination take over. It transported him hundreds of miles, across the ocean and partway across the states, until he was standing in the barn he’d known in his youth. Before Gunnar had even been a teenager, he had been working. One of the local ranchers had hired him to tend to the horses. His tasks were simple: twice a day, in the early morning and at night, he would feed the horses oats and hay, and once a month, he would have to muck the stalls and put down new stray. For years, he had to go out to the barn to feed the horses before he even got breakfast. When he got older, he had joined the men in watching over the cattle on the plains and even going on the drives. But he never forgot the scents of the barn of his youth.

Gunnar released a reluctant exhale as he opened his eyes and began walking through the couch house. Plenty of the stalls were filled with stabled horses, but every so often, there was an empty one with unsoiled straw littering its dirt floor. By the time he passed the third one, an idea was forming in his head. He was just wondering where he could get his hands on a hammock. Though, if he found some canvas and rope, he could make a crude one that would work until he was able to get a real one. "Just might work," he whispered to himself. As he thought, pondering where he could get his hands on the supplies he needed, and the permission to shack up in the coach house, Gunnar continued to walk through the coach house. Straw crinkled beneath the soles of his heavy work boots, each step pounding more of the dried grass into the packed-earth that made floor, alerting the dozing animals of his presence and anyone else who might be hiding with them.

Zoey felt the change in the air before she heard the man. She felt the horses muscles tense beneath her hands as she slid her hands over the mares neck to her face. "It alright little one. Nothing to be nervous about."she said as she stepped out of the stall and into the walkway. "I see I am not the only one that seeks solitude with animals."she said as she looked to the man. It was the cowboy from earlier. She should have known. She had scented the change in earth from earlier. She licked her suddenly too dry lips and she looked up at him with her golden eyes. Her long hair haloed her face with its ivory skin. She would have them deliver her horse on the morrow so she would have a companion she could trust with her entire being. A best friend here among strangers and more than likely enemies. This man before her seemed to know what it was like to find solace in the warmth of an animal.

The ex-rancher narrowed his already naturally squinting eyes on one of the stalls a few paces ahead of him when the hinges of the stall door creaked as it opened. The muscles around his eyes relaxed just slightly when he saw the woman stepping out of the stall to greet him. “Thought I was gonna have to deal with horse too smart for its own good,” he muttered once she had shut the stall. Of course he was referring to the possibility of a horse figuring out how to get out of its own pen. There had been more than one time he had to go chase down a loose horse because it discovered the trick to open the paddock gate. “Eh, I wouldn’t say so much for ‘solitude with animals’ as for a decent place to sleep,” he answered after she had exited the stall and come to stand in front of him.

The first thing he noticed about the woman was the unusual hue of her eyes and her pale skin. Her eyes reminded him of two gold nuggets glittering on a snowy bank. Given what he was beginning to piece together about the place, he figured that she had several other odd traits other than her eyes—just not quite so obvious. “I’m Gunnar,” he announced, extending a calloused hand towards her. His hands bore the marks of a hard worker and of a man whose hands sometimes bled by the end of the day from the work he’d done. Along his fingers and palm, his skin was scarred with lines and spots where barbed wire had torn into his flesh or he had sustained similar injuries. Time healed all things, especially the body—at least until one grew older—and Gunnar’s body was no different.

Zoey slipped her soft hand into his noting instantly the rough but yet pleasant feel of his strong hand as it gripped hers. "I am Zoey. And the solitude with animals is only for me then I guess. i would much rather spend time in a place like this surrounded with animals and such. But that is just me. "she said with a smile at the man. "You arrived not too much after me..You are also human?"she asked him softly as she slowly let her hand slip from his. She was dressed in a pair of tight blue jeans and a button up shirt for the cool weather. She let her golden eyes slip over his tall frame easily as she pulled her long Raven colored hair up into ponytail as she stood before him. She was smaller than him with her five foot even frame.

Gunnar noted the softness of her hands against his calloused skin and figured she probably wasn't used to a hard day's labor. Once her hand slipped away from his, he let his own fall back to his side. When she spoke of time alone with animals again, he nodded his head to acknowledge her statement but said nothing in response. Her question did spark an answer from the ex-ranch hand though as he gave another nod. "Yeah, I'm human. Starting to think that a lot of the folk here aren't." Most of the people looked human, but after seeing that girl with cat ears, he was starting to doubt that that everyone who appeared human was. Gunnar was willing to bet that most of them just weren't so obviously not human. Just as she looked him over, Gunnar gave her a casual glancing over while she fixed her hair. Being a man of few words, Gunnar didn't have much else to say to her. Given her inquisitiveness, he figured she might come up with another question before long.

She smiled softly at him. He probably thought her a person who has never worked considering her soft skin. When she heard him talking of no one here being human she blushed slightly. "No I suppose there are not many humans here. I am not human..I am a lycanthrope. "she said softly looking down as if waiting for him to hit her as many others had done when they found out about her. She braced herself for whatever his reaction was so that it more than likely would not come as a surprise to her. She bit her full lower lip lightly waiting patiently. She hoped that perhaps this man would be different than the others. Perhaps she could at least have someone she could talk to.

When she said lycathrope, Gunnar's eyes widened beyond their normal squint. For a moment, his right hand dipped towards the holstered revolver hanging from the right side of his belt. His fingers brushed over the handle of the revolver. The cool, polished wood beneath his fingertips brought him back to reality and his hand drifted back to his side. "So, you're a werewolf or something?" he asked after a few seconds of silence hung between them. He'd thought they were just things from fairytales and legends, but then again, even before he'd come to the Irish Isle he'd learned that there was some truth to the old tales. There were events buried in his past involving the fantastical that he preferred to leave unearthed. Gunnar kept his eyes on the woman in front of him, one eyebrow arched, suspicion showing on his face now that he knew her true nature, though she had not yet acted hostile towards him. It was just natural for him to be apprehensive when faced with the paranormal.

She had seen the small movement of his hand toward his revovlver. She bit her bottom lip and stepped back from him wishing she had kept her mouth shut now. She shook her head. "Or something I can shift into a large black Tigress. I am the last of my kind and if you kill me it will die with me.."she said softly to him. "I will not hurt you though Human..."she said softly as she looked into his eyes. She had hoped he would be different but humans were all the same. They were all afraid of what they could not understand or control. When she stepped away from him the heels of her boots clicked on the cement floor.

"I'm no monster," responded Gunnar when she mentioned killing her. A second after he had spoken, he realized his error. A woman so skittish and fearful of such a breed as her was most likely not fond of the term 'monster'. "I apologize, Ma'am," he uttered and then added, "If you promise not to hurt me, I promise to do the same." With that, he reached towards the buckle of his belt and unfastened it. While the waistband of jeans slackened, his pants didn't fall. Gunnar pulled the strap of leather, complete with the two holstered revolvers, and laid it across the door of the nearest stall. A soft thud filled the silence as the leather-encased guns bumped the wood, followed by a clink as the buckle itself settled. "See, I'm unarmed," he offered, spreading his hands towards her in a sign of vulnerability--not something the ex-ranch hand rarely admitted.

She looked up at the term monster and took another step back. "Monster? No perhaps you are not but there are many humans that would gladly take me and try to collar me. Try to make me a pet to walk on a leash before all their friends."she said softly as she watched his hands unbuckle the belt his guns were attached to. When it fell to the ground she stepped back toward him and smiled softly. "You needn't be so dramatic and all...I believed you when you promised."she said softly. There was something in this mans eyes that said he was definately an honorable man.

So much for balancing the weight of the guns on the belt across the stall door. Gunnar turned as they thunked onto the ground, on the opposite side of the stall. At least there wasn't a horse inside the stall, or he might have gone after the revolvers right away. "Words don't mean much where I'm from," answered the unarmed gunman. "Plus, you don't seem so trusting either, so I thought I should make a sure sign of being truthful." A small smile actually cracked the cowboy's lips as he saw her take a step towards him again.

She smiled softly at him in return. "You have a nice smile."she said before her she could stop her mouth from blabbering and embarrassing her. She licked her lips nervously as she watched him. "It was very noble of you. But why is it you do not wish to harm me? I saw your hands go to your guns and I know what you must be thinking of me."she said softly to him.

Her compliment caught Gunnar off guard and his smile withered as he arched an eyebrow. "Thank you," he muttered. He noticed her nervousness and forced a polite smile. "Live and let live," he answered with a shrug. "You ain't doing me no harm so I might as well not do you any in return." He gave another light shrug as he thought upon what else she said and then explained, "Old habits are hard to break." Gunnar didn't mean that he used to shot lycanthropes or anything of that sort, just that a gun in hand provided a good sense of safety.

"I am glad to see that there is a few gentleman left in the world. Thank you for the show of trust."She bit her bottom lip lightly as she walked over to the stall brushing lightly past him. She bent and picked them up and held them out to him. "I trust you and would not want them to become dirty."she said to him softly as she smiled at him and bowed her head over his weapons. It was strange to be near someone that showed trust of her kind.

Being a cowpoke, Gunnar wasn't used to being called a 'gentleman' but he offered another smile, though it hinted at his slight discomfort from her compliment. Twice already she'd given him a compliment and they only made him uneasy as given his lifestyle he wasn't used to a high level of social interaction and he wasn't especially used to receiving compliments. "You're welcome." He watched as she leaned down to pick up his belt with the two holstered revolvers.

"Thanks," said Gunnar as he took the weighted strap of leather into his hands and then threaded it back through his belt loops along the waistband of his pants. A few seconds later, he had the buckle fastened again. Once he was rearmed, Gunnar was at a loss as to what to say or do. "So, you ride?" he asked, unable to think of anything else to ask to spur a conversation with the beauty.

She smiled softly at him. "Yes I ride. I have been riding since I was a child. "she said softly to him. "I am not sure how to survive without an animal of somekind beside me. And I prefer the outdoors to the indoors. "she said softly to him. She wondered about this intriguing man that was standing here listening to her idle chatter even though he seemed to be a man of few words he was trying to make conversation with her.

Gunnar nodded his head as the woman spoke. He understood her sentiments as he was a man who was used to spending much of his time out on the plains with only his horse and the cattle and other ranch hands, who were often as solitary as he himself was, as company. "Then why are you inside still?" he asked, an eyebrow perking in question. He wondered if the woman felt as out of place on the grounds of Caislin Hallows as he did. The constant dampness of the air seemed to cling to his skin on occasion when he went outside which was different than feeling the prairie air trying to suck the moisture from the skin. It was also much cooler and the seeming regular rainclouds hanging over head gave the Emerald Isle a constant sense of gloom in contrast to the often cloudless skies of the plains. Remembering himself, Gunnar blinked his normally narrowed eyes before refocusing his gaze on the woman in front of him as his thoughts returned to his present surroundings. "Where're you from, Miss Zoey?"

Zoey stroked the nose of the horse that nuzzled at her. She smiled softly at him as she leaned back agaisnt the stall. The horse nuzzling at her neck and chewing on her hair. "I am not outside because I am uncomfortable here on the grounds of this place."she laughed lightly feeling the horse breath and then nibble on her neck. She heard him ask her where she was from and also heard him call her Miss Zoey. "Miss Zoey? I kinda like that. And I am from Kentucky. I am used to horses and open fields and forests full of trees."she said softly to him as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "And you Gunnar where are you from?"

There was one pretty important similarity at least between them--home was back stateside. With his usual nod, Gunnar acknowledged her answer. It made sense, given her affinity for horses. "Montana," he answered when it was his turn. "More plains than mountains," he added after a second. "The hills here always seem to be shrouded in mist," he muttered with a shake of his head, adding his own disapproval of their new locale that was so different from home. With a shake of his head, Gunnar tucked his thumbs into the leather strap of his belt and looked her over. "I think I'm going to go find whoever's in charge and see about getting my room changed. I'll talk to you later, Ma'am," he said as he lowered one hand to his side and gave her a wave with the other. "For the time being, I'm in room C, in the men's wing, if you want to come visit."

"Yes the hils here are shrouded in mist..But I rather like it..seems a bit magical to me."she said with a wistful smile on her perfect lips. She licked her lips as she watched him. "Please call me Zoey and I will remember that Gunnar. Would you perhaps wish to go riding with me?"she asked him softly. A little blush on her ivory cheeks as she looked down at where her fingers were fiddling with the hem of her of her button up shirt. Her golden eyes hidden behind her long black lashes making her seem exotic and mysterious at the same time as seeming shy and innocent.

Gunnar had been about to depart when she offered an alternative. For a moment, he eyed her, arching an eyebrow as he considered her offer. "Alright, Mis--, I mean Zoey, I'll go for a ride with yah. I suppose yah know how to saddle up a 'orse, since yah seem so familiah with 'em." The cowpoke crack a small smile and turned to look out over the stalls, searching the occupied ones for a suitable mount. "Yah goin' on the one you've been friendly with?" he asked over his shoulder, referring to the horse that she had been stroking earlier. His heavy work boots clomped across the packed dirt, the scattered straw crinkling under the thick soles, as he made his way to a stall that held a nice buckskin gelding. As he neared the compartment, the horse stared at him with its big, brown eyes for a few seconds before coming over to greet him. Gunnar reached over the half-door and placed his hand on the gelding's head, stroking down the soft, tan fur from between its eyes to the beginnings of its black nose. "Whoa boy," he clucked quietly. "I think yah will do just fine."