Staring into the worked soil, he knew someone was there with him. Drops of swear seemed to sizzle dark on the hot ground and fade into the air. He looked up. Another man stood watching him, with a peculiar face. His nose was scrunched up and he squinted as men who spend too much time in the sun tend to do. The stranger leaned against the fence and spoke.
"You oughta be Castor, th' boss was tellin' me 'bout you." His voice dripped thickly like smoke. He paused. Castor didn't straighten up from his hoe but waited for a further explaination.
"Name's Buck." he held out his hand, which Castor eyed before gingerly reaching out to a firm grip, held for uncomfortable seven seconds, "I was sent out here so I could get a tour of the farm from you."
Buck couldn't make up his mind if he liked this fellow or not. The creature that stood before him was a broad shouldered behemoth. Standing at an estimated 6'7" his muscles were the kind that had to be earned through hard labor. Buck had heard of these man-animals, but had never seen one in his 19 years. Now this pinto stood towering over him. He felt admiration, anger and fear.
Castor dropped the hoe and sighed, "Ahight, come on." He tood long strides, possibly purposefully, "Don't lag."
They sat on a hill overlookeding the ranch as the sun was beginning to set. Buck had been introduced and ate with what few ranch hands there were, they were hardened men with many lines from the creases on their faces. He thought about his own face and hands and decided that they were like a women's. He wondered if he too would have many lines someday. Though castor had been silent for most of the time Buck suddenly began to feel very close to him, and said,
"You know, Ah ain't see one a' you furs before."
Castor flashed his eyes to him, "Most a' us were killed."
"Ah know, heard 'bout it in th' news coupla times."
"...Didja now." He looked away. Buck felt the hurt in the words and knew he had accidentally struck a bad cord. He got up, offering a hand to the horse, even though he knew he couldn't pick up. It was getting dark.
"D'yah remember that day, Caster?" Buck was laying next to his friend on their hill. Both of their arms were folded behind their heads and Buck looked into Castor's eyes. He thought they were blue like the sky. It was a dreamy haze of a day and the clouds drifted far above as smokey whisps. The pinto looked away into the depths of the day. He seemed different, somehow more ethereal, like he was lost wandering in that upside-down ocean. He nodded,
"I do." Buck looked away.
"How long ago did ah come here?" Musta been 'bout five years now." He looked at the fur, and noticed new lines had formed at the corners of his eyes. Buck playfully slapped his arm and sat up on his elbows.
"Hey! 'Member we used tah claw at each other like wildcats!" Castor gazed at the human. Despite a life long contempt for the race, this one wasn't so bad. He wasn't a boy anymore. He'd watched him earn his strength and his meals, watched him grow and helped him a bit too. sitting in front of him though was still the boy who held his hand for too long when they shook. He smiled and got stiffly up,
"Let's get drunk. My treat."
Castor woke up with a hangover. Hw wwas still a little bit drunk and the sunlight shone in his eyes as he lay in his bed. He felt a heavy weight on his left arm and saw Buck there, curled up comfortably.