To Catch a Coyote, Part 1

The two anoobas looked even more sorry in broad daylight, and Brant was wondering just what spice he had been breathing in to think they had been a good purchase back on Nar Shaddaa. The bigger one was the first off the ramp and onto the wet grass of Auratera, clearly the more confident of the two. Brant had to go around to the back of the cage and arc a bolt of lightning between his fingers to get the other one to move, but soon she was down and out onto the grass as well, whimpering sadly.

The barker’s handlers had used shocksticks and metal poles attached to the collars as leashes, but Brant simply herded the two beasts along from behind with occasional Force Shocks to remind them of what he could do. He hurried them around to the side of his master’s manor, then up into a scraggly stand of trees and boulders, thinking Hu’izei wouldn’t be too pleased with the two mangy creatures leaving wet footprints in his halls. He Forced the rocks around into something resembling a holding pen, then pushed the anoobas into it, one by one. Then he lit onto the largest boulder making up the pen’s wall and sat down on it, staring down at the two beasts and wondering what he had gotten himself into.

As the barker had said, both anoobas were terribly mangy, though the larger one still had most of her fur. The smaller one only had the long crest of mane down her back; her tail was completely bare, each knob of her spine visible throughout its entire length. Brant reflected a lot of rehabilitation would have to go into them before he got even close to training them as attack animals. He cursed softly.

At his voice, the small one stood stock in the very center of the pen, only every so often going to scratch more flea-infested hair out of her long ears. The bigger one circled her, around and around and around again, restlessly pacing. Brant frowned.

Calm, he told that one. She looked up at him, her crest rising, but as he continued to press on her mind, she returned to the side of her sister and curled around her, their tails twining at the tips. Relax, Brant told them both, and the two anoobas started making soft, chuckling sounds as they groomed each other, the smaller one wincing as the other’s tongue scraped off of her mange sores.

Brant shook his head, tugging a datapad out of one sleeve. He shielded it from the ever-present rain with the cowl of his own hood as he typed up several messages. He knew nothing about healing animals, but luckily, he had a few contacts who probably did.

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