November 7, Fall, year 20

The kitties are now eating only dry food! And they're interacting with Tux and Clara pretty good. Every time I try to put on my coat, the black one climbs into a pocket, so I've decided to call her Pocket. Her brother, the tabby, is Marmalade, since he's orange and fluffy.

Oh, and I skipped the Sheep festival. I had a cold, so I ended up spending the day in bed. Not that I have any sheep to enter, but just watching them is nice.

Anyways, it was the dog races today. I left Dakota at home and carried Puppy in one of Honey's saddlebags. Puppy did not like that one bit.

Puppy hadn't been fond of the trip, even though Claire had let the saddlebag untied enough for the rotund dog to poke his head out. And had complained about it vocally.

Very vocally. As in, Jill had heard her coming a literal mile away, and had been ready with a camera of all things, to get a picture of Claire's disgruntled expression.

"Why didn't you let him run alongside the horse?" the brunette asked, eyes glittering with mirth.

"He's too small. Even at a walk, Honey outdistances him," was the sour reply. "Please get him out of the saddlebag before I feel compelled to shoot myself."

Snickering Jill did. The minute his four paws touched the ground, he and Jill's dog raced around the farm. Twice. Claire just rolled her eyes and got down herself.

"Hey sis, had a thought for you, if you're interested."

"What?"

"Our horses, maybe breed em?"

Jill blinked purple eyes, and tilted her head in thought, a move identical to Claire's.

"We should probably talk to Barley about that," she said as she helped Claire unsaddle the mare. "He'd know more about how to do it than either of us."

"Point," Claire nodded. "But Cinnamon is yours so I thought I'd ask you first. Then go talk to Barley. I wanna ask him some questions about Dakota too, she's been limping around in the mornings."

"Well, she is old sis. Like Serri was."

Claire half shrugged.

"I know that…. But this time if one of my pets is going to pass away, I want to have at least some advance warning…"

Jill hugged her sister then, remorseful for the sharp words. Claire rested her head against the brunette's slim shoulder momentarily, then pulled away, a smile plastered on her face.

"Come on, let's collect the psycho-dogs and get moving."

Claire and Puppy were in the third race, Jill and her dog Biscuit were in the fifth and final. Which meant both young women could wander around with their dogs and chat with other pet owners who loved the dog races as well.

There was no sign of Skye, to Claire's disappointment, but inevitably, she understood. He was up til the wee hours of the morning after all, so it made sense that he would skip the morning festivals.

It hadn't helped that he'd probably caught her cold when he'd checked in on her three days before. She would have to go to the Inn after the her race and check up on him. It would be… amusing, to see Skye laid low by a cold.

But if she left now, the rules would have her disqualified. Which was entirely bogus, but since there wasn't anything she could really do about it, she put up with it and waited.

What the races were designed to do was both test the fitness of the dog, and see which dog responded to their owner the best. Some dogs would heel just fine at the human's top speed, while other dogs got distracted by the others around them, and the different smells of the town.

Claire, for all her hope, only took third place. But then Puppy was, after all, still young. She accepted third prize with better grace than some of her competitors, and promptly high-tailed it out of the Square, with half the population following her for lunch.

The Inn, thankfully, was never closed. Not even on festival days, which meant that anyone could enter at any time. Doug looked up as Claire poked her head around the door, and waved amiably at the blonde.

"Good timing," he commented, with a hint of a burr to his voice, an accent that remained from his time outside of Mineral Town. "One of my guests is sick, but Ann left her lunch here when she pelted out to watch the dog races. I don't suppose I can ask you for help?"

"Sure," Claire chirped. "Want me to take the lunch, or check on the guest?"

"The latter, please," the tavern owner nodded. "I can hear the crowd now."

And second later, the place was filling up with people who were all shouting for drinks and food. Claire hurried up the stairs before someone accidentally mistook her for a waitress, and into the first room at the top.

Skye looked up from the bed, feeling pitiful and wondering if Doug had come to check up on him, and maybe try to convince him—again—to eat something. Seeing Claire in the doorway made him just want to die.

The blonde's expression was mirthful.

"I told you this would happen," she commented, going over to him. "You caught my cold because you wouldn't listen to me."

"Nng," Skye groaned.

"Oh it's jut a cold you big baby. You haven't thrown up, have you?"

"N-no…"

She reached forward and lightly rested her hand on his forehead, then reached for the washcloth on the bedside table.

"That's good then. It means you're not half as sick as I was," and she grinned. "And therefore, should get better quicker than I did."

"Are you better?" the thief croaked.

"'course I am!" Claire snorted, filling a shallow bowl with cool water and dipping the cloth into it. "I ran the race with Puppy!"

The dog, who had trailed after her, gave a cheerful bark at the sound of his name, and stuck his paws against the side of Skye's bed. The silver-haired young man worked one hand out from under his blankets, and patted the dog's head before Claire moved Puppy, and laid the now-cool washcloth on Skye's forehead.

"I can't stay all afternoon, I promised Jill I'd watch her and Biscuit race, but I can stick around for a while if you want me to," she offered.

"Please?" Skye rasped. "If only to deter the Innkeeper from trying to make me eat more chicken soup."

Claire chuckled, and lightly patted Skye's hand.

"But it's so good for you," she teased. "And honey-tea. Wait a moment and I'll got get some."

Claire enjoyed being nursemaid for her friend up until she had to go and catch Jill's race. They hadn't talked much—Skye's voice was a 'frog's croak' according to the thief—but just being in the same room had made things better for a short while.

Skye had actually fallen asleep while she was there. Some would have taken it as an insult, but she took it as a compliment of the highest order. It meant that he was comfortable with her, enough to be at his most vulnerable.

It was heartwarming.

Jill, like her sister, took third place. Which was better than the year before when she'd sprained her ankle halfway into the run. Claire cheered wildly for her younger sibling, and both girls headed back to their respective farms in good moods.

Claire was halfway home when she realized that they'd forgotten to talk to Barley about breeding the horses…

And Jack just called to say thanks for the grapes! What a dork my brother is sometimes!

Not that I can talk, I'm gonna have to arrange a time for Jill and me to talk with Barley so that we can figure out this horse breeding thing.