When it comes to alcohol, there are plenty of things that just don’t mix.  For Rhannah, her worst combination is the mixing of business with pleasure. The VIP from the big Pharma company rattles on and on about the newest advances in antibiotics, talking about how “Viper’s patented technology will not only increase yield, but it will also promote better health for your workers.”
Truthfully, Rhannah lost interest in the pitch around the time the woman mentioned that they hadn’t yet begun bovine trials—that her dairies would be the ones that would go through such measures, but be well compensated for the gestures. Now, the businesswoman ignores the rest of the speech, staying only for the propriety of it. Instead, her focus shifts over towards the bar. While she swirls her straw, her cheek firmly in one palm, she catches sight of someone quite interesting.
Sitting at the bar is a mare, dressed in a tank top and jeans. Her arms are tense with muscle and stress, and the grip on her glass of whiskey is like a vice. The horse contemplates the glass for a few seconds, perhaps doing some soul-searching in the amber elixir, before she downs it with a quick gulp, only to hail the bartender for another one.
Rhannah had never seen this horse here before. This curiosity looks to be the type that would frequent seedy establishments. But, there’s a story in this one beyond what is obviously apparent, and Rhannah is much more interested in trying to figure that out than she is in trying to dissuade this pushy pharma pusher.
“And so, with the connections you have, we’ll be able to get the trials underway, and get you ready for increased production and quality of all of your products.”
Rhannah takes a sip, looking the snake in the eyes. When she pulls her mouth away from the drink, she says, “I’m sorry, hon, but I don’t see this working out.”
The snake’s tongue flicks out, her eyes widening. “I… I don’t understand.”
“I pride myself in my all-natural milk production, and I wouldn’t give my employees an untested drug if I wasn’t comfortable giving it to myself. Besides, our production is fine enough that we don’t need to risk our health on profits. If you want a supercow, you’re going to have to ask somewhere else.”
“But, what about the-”
Rhannah holds a finger up, and the snake focuses on it. “Tut tut. You didn’t listen, sugar. I’m not interested, and I haven’t been interested since you set this place up for our meeting. If you don’t know where to take a connoisseur, you don’t know how to win her over. Honestly, what do they teach in business schools nowadays?”
“Miss d’Ayrie, this is highly-”
“Tut tut, hon. I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time. But, I insist the drinks are on me.” With that, she pulls out her card, placing it on the table. “I’ll appreciate it if you’d let me finish my drink alone.”
The snake huffs, slithering out of the table and whipping out her phone, her hisses disappearing off into the distance. This gives Rhannah the opportunity to turn all of her attention to the mysterious mare. The horse is no longer alone, as a weasel has joined her, slinking over by her side and whispers something to her. Her grip on her glass tightens.
“Boy…” Rhannah whispers to herself, enjoying her own drink. “You’d better take the hint.”
Of course, the way he continues to speak, loud enough for even Rhannah to hear, tells the cow that he’s far too drunk to even care.
“Come on, babe… ish too late fer you to be here all on yer lonesome. Howsabout we do something, spechiul, huh?”
“Not interested,” comes the curt reply. The horse pulls out a small wad of cash and tosses it to the bar. The tender swipes it up, giving her a look to bail her out of trouble.
She holds up her hand, shaking her head, and then pushes herself up.
The weasel places his hand on her shoulder, standing behind her, head comically poking out from beside her. Once standing, her physical dominance over him is quite apparent, yet the clenching of her fist much less so.
“Whash the matter?” He growls. “Too good fer me? All I wanted waash to give you a good weekend, but you had to be a bish about i-”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, as she spins around and introduces that fist of hers right to his face. Two other men stand up, larger than their weasel friend and looking outright pissed.
Rhanna brings her drink to her lips. The mare’s hoof snaps up, impacting with a hard “crack” to the neck of one of the wingmen. At the same time, a couple of too-fast-to-follow strikes land on the other. By the time Rhannah finishes her sip, both men are on the ground.
The tender pulls out his phone, shouting at the horse, but she snorts and walks out, passing by Rhannah’s booth. For a split second, their eyes meet, and Rhannah can see all the pain and determination that flows through this woman.
A moment after the mare disappeared, Rhannah stands up herself and straightens out her jacket before walking towards the door.
“Hey!” The bartender calls out to her.
Rhannah stops, looking over her shoulder. “Hm…?”
“You can’t leave. You gotta tell the cops what you saw!”
Rhannah shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just there enjoying my drink. I didn’t see anything.”
Once outside, she pulls out her phone. “Hey, Chance. I need you to call up some drinking establishments. I’m looking for someone.”

The best part about living in a big city is that there’s never a shortage of places to drown your sorrows. When one bar closes its door to Halia, the horse just gets up and goes to the next one that piques her interest.
It takes her a couple of nights after being kicked out of the last one to find the right place, but once she does, she can sit down, plop down her credit card, and just drink the night away. But, her calm routine changes once she sees that cow.
The last time Halia saw this woman, she was dressed for business and was working with someone. Tonight, however, she’s in a beautiful dress, and she’s coming right for Halia.
“Oh, hey there, hon!” the cow says, slipping beside her at the bar. “Fancy running into you here.”
“Funny,” Halia says, glancing at her drink, keeping an eye on the cow’s reflection. “I don’t recall ever making introductions last time.”
“Shucks, no need to be so formal. We’re just two gals who happen to enjoy a good night out bar hopping. Luckily, I don’t see any overdrunk weasels here. So, you just might be safe from them trying to get in your pants.”
Halia takes a drink, squeezing her glass. “Pants, space: I don’t like people getting too close, got it?”
“Hey, hey, no need to be rough about it. I just want to say ‘hi’ in case we run into each other again. So, ‘hi! I’m Rhannah.”
Halia sighs quickly through her nostrils and then downs the rest of her shot. “Halia,” she responds.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Halia. Now, tell me, what exactly is the matter with someone getting friendly for the sake of striking up a conversation? If you think I’m here for some ulterior motive, then I got a nice big bovine nose you could punch right now.” She taps her snout with a quick finger. “See, right here? Can get nice and bloody for ya, if that’s the way you like to relieve stress.”
Halia leans back a bit, spinning in the stool to face the bovine. “How about you just fuck off?”
“Alright, alright, no need to snap. But I’m going to be around if you want someone to talk to. The night is still young.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” The horse waves to the bartender to request another drink. Guess she’ll just enjoy the last few drinks at this establishment before resuming her journey tomorrow night.
Even with the buzz of liquor in her system, her cheek throbs with phantom pain. She rubs at it, feeling the crack where her old war injury hides and the numbness where flesh meets prosthetic. She winces at it, the alcohol doing its job of making her forget until just that moment. Well, pain means time for painkillers. She pulls the pills out of her pocket, fumbling with the lid.
The bottle spills out onto the sidewalk, sending white tablets sprinkling onto the asphalt. “Fucking…” Halia falls to her hands and knees, scrambling to pick up they very expensive, and very relieving pills.
Hoofclops along the sidewalk tell her she’s not alone, and she glances over to see Rhannah standing there. “Oh, for fucks… just get out of here and stop starin’!”
Rhannah doesn’t do that. Instead, she puts down her purse and gets on all fours herself, carefully picking up each and every pill she can find.
Halia frowns but returns to her own scrounging. When she gets as many as she can find, she slides most of them into the pill bottle, and downs the dose with a dry swallow.
Rhannah holds her hand out, the pills all there. “You know it’s probably not a good idea to take these off the pavement. Sort of defeats the purpose of medicine.”
“What do you care?” Halia says, swiping the pills from her. She squeezes them a moment, sighs, and says. “Just… thanks. I can’t afford to lose these.”
“That’s some high-grade stuff. You sure you should be taking it and drinking at the same time?”
“What are you, my doctor? Damn…” she rubs her cheek. The pain is still there. It’s always there.
“No, I’m not.”
“Good, then let me get out of here in peace,” Halia says, standing up. She replaces her pills with her key ring and turns away.
But Rhannah snatches those keys from her grip. The horse spins around, stumbling a bit and leaning against a light pole. “Hey, you give that back!”
“‘Do not drive or operate heavy machinery.’ That’s what the pills say, right?” Rhannah says. “You are not driving tonight. I’m getting us a driver.”
“I can drive just well enough, thank you very much.”
“While drunk?”
“I’m a little buzzed.”
Rhannah pulls out her phone and pings for a car. “Then, take your keys back.”
Halia snorts and stumbles up, grabbing at the keyring, but falling into Rhannah’s arms.
“Well, you’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Rhannah says. “But you need to know when to give up and let someone help you out.”
“I don’t… I don’t need yer help!” Halia growls. “Now, give me back my damn keys.” She grasps at them, but Rhannah holds onto the horse by the waist, pulling her in close. She looks into Halia’s eyes and speaks in a commanding voice. “Listen. You’re going to sober up, and then you’re going to get your car back. Until then, I’ll take care of you.
Halia pulls herself away. She takes a step back, but there’s something… a pull, a lingering memory of her time following orders. This woman is so civilian, and yet…
After a silence, she closes her eyes and just says “Fine…”
“Good,” Rhannah says. “Because our car is here.”
Rhannah holds back the soft smile she feels when she sees Halia’s reaction to her prompt ultimatum. When the bovine business woman catches the irregular clopping behind her, then she knows she has the mare.

“Mind your step,” Rhannah urges, stepping down from the porch of the establishment. She holds her hand out towards Halia.
The horse does not take it but stumbles down a step and grabs onto the railing leading down. “I’m good,” she replies, yet Rhannah can see through that quickly.
“If you insist,” Rhannah says. 
A sleek black car pulls up in front of them. Rhannah opens the back door, one hand on her hip. She says nothing, but Halia takes a few stumbling steps forward before peering into the vehicle.
Sitting behind the driver’s seat is a cat, dressed in a sharp suit. He glances at Halia through the mirror, and the two lock gazes a moment, but Halia just slumps into the seat, groaning with her eyes closed. Her world spins, only to snap back at the sound of Rhannah’s voice. “Halia… dear. Where is Chance taking us?”
“Huh?”
“Your place. You look like you need a rest, and fast.”
Halia grumbles out an address—an adequate place, filled with light and in a nice neighborhood. Not too far from home. She’s prepared it as a go-to destination for when she’s far too out of it, so no one could follow her when she’s like this.
The car moves off, and the horse shuts her eyes, just to make the sick swirling stop, but a moment later, the vehicle stops. 
“Thank you, Chance… now then, up, up.”
“Huh?”
Halia blinks away the blurriness, only to see her cover location. A click later, and Rhannah is already out of the car. Before Halia can protest, Rhannah has the door open and her hand out to help her.
“N… no, I’m fine,”
“You look like you’re going to collapse again,” Rhannah says.
Halia catches her hoof on the curb, stumbling forward, only for Rhannah to grab her by the arm. “See!? I can’t leave you alone out here. Who knows if you can even make it up to those stairs.”
“Not even my stairs…” Halia grumbles
“Excuse me?” 
“Dammit, Halia,” the horse sighs. Defeated, Halia motions down the street. “Live that way…”
“Oh, come on, then. I’ll walk you down there myself.”
The rest of the journey is a blur for the horse—a series of phantom steps and blurred lights. A clicking of the key, a turning of the knob, and a disappearance into the darkness. By the time they were finally in the door, Halia is well and truly out cold. 
Rhannah isn’t a small girl, but the horse is tightly packed with muscle, making the journey through the apartment a chore. Rhannah doesn’t dare call Chance in here… having a strange man in Halia’s house would only sour the relationship, and from the looks of things, the horse desperately needs a good companion.
With the harsh light buzzing, the apartment was bathed in a light so yellow to make Charlotte Perkins Gilman have a field day. Whoever her landlord is has a thing for gold. It clashes with the crimson stylings of the horse. It’s a shame, because red does compliment Halia well.
Of course, decoration doesn’t seem to be Halia’s forte--neither does cleaning up. It’s obvious she doesn’t expect many guests. There are dishes in the sink, throw pillows tossed about, and the dust is so caked on things as to imply years of disuse. This ratty couch won’t do for rest. Halia needs to sleep this off, so Rhannah stumbles through the room and to the back, finding the door to her bedroom quickly enough. Here are a few more personal items, sufficient to tell a story. Rhannah lowers Halia onto the bed, slipping the horse out of her jacket, and even undoing her pants, sliding them off. She doubts Halia is the pajama type, but it won't hurt to take a look for them.
No, she’s not some creeper looking to spy on this girl. She’s trying to be helpful!
Pictures. Seems Halia’s the sentimental type. There she is with a group of others—a military unit. She’s used to following orders, then. Interesting. There’s an older picture with other horses, her family? Must hold them dear to have them so close to her when she sleeps. Perhaps estrangement because it’s so old? Must have been a fun time, wherever they were. There are a couple of knick-knacks there as well from that trip.
Another picture—an equine in full SCUBA gear underwater. The mystery that is Halia just gets more and more intriguing by the moment.
Next for the drawers--that’s where pajamas should be. Nope. Guns.
“Ha… well, she knows how to take care of herself, I guess…?” Rhannah says, looking over her shoulder. Gentle snoring confirms her suspicions.
“How about the closet?” Lots of t-shirts, branded with various local bars, some with “bouncer” written clearly on them. Others show off various physical events, making themselves metaphorical trophies for multiple runs and other such feats of endurance.
“Well, guess that’s that,” Rhannah says. She lifts the horse’s legs to get the sheets out from underneath her and then makes sure to tuck her in nice and tight. “There you go… now, let’s see if we can’t do anything about the rest of this place…”

Halia sits in the back of the bus, leaning back and enjoying the long trip home. There are people around her—people she recognizes, but she’s not quite sure how. She turns and looks out the window, and there she sees the base. She’s almost home.
But that’s when the realization hits her. She’s been here before and-
A loud eruption, the bus, no humvee, explodes in white-hot flames. Her leg… her leg, it’s caught. She can’t-She screams, reaching for her leg, but she ends up falling out of her bed still covered entirely in the sheets. 

Cold sweat clings to her body, and she claws at the sheets to get to her lower body until the voice calls out to her. “Hey, hey, are you alright?” Rhannah yanks the covers off of the screaming horse.
Halia feels over her face, checking to make sure the prosthetic is still properly in place. She stares, wide-eyed, snorting and kicking the rest of the covers off of her. It takes another few seconds for her to finally stop hyperventilating and to look at the bovine stranger. Rhannah had found an apron and a pair of gloves and is now holding a plastic trash bag in her free hand. Halia had shoved them away into some forgotten drawer somewhere “The… the hell?” Halia stumbles to her feet, rubbing her jaw. It clicks back into place. “What are you doing here?”
“I figured you could use some help,” Rhannah says. “Your place is a mess, and you were in a bad way.”
“So that makes it okay for you to barge in here and start throwing away my shit?” She snatches the bag, opening it up and glancing inside. She immediately closes it, coughing from the pungent odor. “O… okay, maybe you could throw that stuff out. But seriously, what kind of crazy stalker are you to-”
Rhannah places her finger against the horse’s mouth to hush her. She narrows her eyes. “I found these buried under unused coupons of yours.” She shoves the envelopes into Halia’s hands.
The equine looks over them. Each of them the usual late notices for rent. Halia huffs and tosses them away. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re practically evicted already. And the state this place is in basically makes it condemned. What kind of way is it for a veteran to live, paycheck to paycheck, working at bars, and spending the rest of her time drinking herself to death by mixing her meds with booze? ”
“I can take care of myself, ‘mom.’”
“Oh, can you?” Rhannah says. “Because, the way I see it, the only problems you seem to be able to fix are the ones you can punch your way out of.” She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and rolls her neck. “But… I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, have you now?” Halia says.
“Yes, since I first saw you, the idea came to me, but I wanted to make sure. I require some help, and I think you’re the right mare for the job.”
“Am I… well, what if I’m not in the market for a job?”
“Then, you’re in the market for living on the streets. What are you going to do, then, turn tricks?”
“Why the hell do you care so much?”
“Because you’re a damn hero throwing her life away!” Rhannah shouts.
There’s quiet between the two for a bit. Halia marches towards her drawers. “That’s bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh? Right. Cowshit!” Halia snaps back. “I can tell when someone’s trying to use me, and I don’t need that. Now, will you kindly get the fu-”
“I need an assistant,” Rhannah says. “Someone who can hold her own in a fight and can take orders. You fit the bill.”
“You think I’ll be a good little soldier for you?”
“No, more like a butler, actually.”
“Ha, that’s rich,” Halia says. “And, why would I say ‘yes’ to the crazy person who abducted me?”
Rhannah approaches her, placing a hand upon Halia’s shoulder. “Because I can just tell you’re the kind of person who thrives under the right pressure. You say you don’t like people telling you what to do, and yet, your accomplishments all come from fields in which you are a follower. Here you are with your own place and your own rules, and you make it a mess. You stumble from job to job, dropping each one only to stumble into the next, and you don’t have any friends, because you don’t stop to have the initiative to talk to anyone. Everyone has to come to you.”
Halia squeezes the handle of her gun drawer, her eyes returning to her pictures—her family, her unit. “Yeah…? You really got me figured out, don’t you?”
“I want someone who can take orders and who can learn to be more than she is.”
“Last time I took orders, I came out less than what I was,” Halia says. “You expect me to do that again?”
“I can provide you an easy out if you’d like.”
“You’re doing a lot for a job,” Halia says, turning around, leaning against the drawer. “There’s a catch here.”
Rhannah sighs, pulling the gloves off of her hands. “Truth be told, I find you a fascinating creature. I would love to learn more about you the right way if you’d let me. Come to my place. Let’s talk about this someplace with more breathing room.”
“And you think I’ll go with you, why?”
Rhannah places her hands on her hips, a smirk over her face. “Well, a few things. One… you haven’t pulled out your guns. If you weren’t interested in me, you would have kicked my butt as soon as you woke up. And if you weren’t so comfortable with me, you would have gotten dressed.”
Halia glances at her undergarments on full display and actually let out a little chuckle. “Well, look at that. Guess you’ve read me like a book, haven’t you?”
“How does that make you feel?” Rhannah asks, tapping her own cheek.
Halia narrows her gaze. She pulls her drawer open and slips on a pair of shorts.
“Find something comfortable. We’re getting breakfast,” Rhannah says, flipping her phone open and walking out of the room. “Chase, dear. Let’s get ready to pick us up.”

Once again, the former soldier finds herself in the strange cow’s car, driven off a to side café on some street corner downtown. There, she found herself at some booth in the corner, far from the hustle of people seeking their morning pick-me-up.
“Well, you’ve been quiet,” Rhannah says, sitting back with her egg creme soda in hand. “Woman comes in and offers to change your life, and you just go along with it? Don’t you want to know more?”
“I asked plenty,” Halia says, tapping her finger against her cafe au lait.
“Oh, please. ‘What are you doing in my house’ is not the kind of question I’m talking about. I mean, don’t you want to know anything about your kidnapper?”
“What’s there to know?” Halia asks, bringing the drink up to her lips.
“Well, for starters, I supply the milk in that drink of yours.”
Halia stops short, yanking the cup away from her. “W… what?”
Rhannah nearly spits out her own drink. “Oh, gawsh, no, no, not like that! Please. I may be well-endowed, but I’m not feeding on an industrial level with just my tits alone. I run a dairy business.”
“Y-yeah, I guess that would be crazy… putting your milk in my drink…” Halia says, slowly bringing the drink back up to her lips.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t give a bit of my own for special treats. I always like to share.”
“Uh, yeah… thanks for… letting me know?” She says this, sipping her drink. “I’ll keep that in mind, when I’m feeling more adventurous.”.“So, what’s the story, then? Old money, or did you work your way to the top?” Halia says.
“Oh, I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, but I can get people to do that for me, and be more than happy.”
“Like me,” Halia says, placing her drink back down. “That’s it, right? I’m here to do dirty work for you?”
“No, no. What you’re here for,” Rhannah says, standing up and grabbing her handbag, “is to join me in some shopping.”
From the café, they take a quick walk down the block towards a small, artisanal grocery store. Rhannah pulls out a cart and hands it to Halia, walking down the aisle as the horse pushes it.
“All that old processed stuff is far too bad for you. You need to make sure you’re getting the proper nutrition. You’d think they’d tell you this kind of stuff in the armed services.”
“They tell us enough,” Halia snorts. But, then she adds “enough to get fucked over…”
“I know. It’s so terrible,” Rhannah says, looking over two different varieties of organic carrots, measuring them one hand and the other. She shrugs, and dumps them both in the cart, glancing towards Halia, her hands upon the basket to stop her. Spending all that time to turn you into the most effective follower-of-orders, and then they dump you off on a world and expect you to handle things on your own.”
“I can han-” Halia starts, but Rhannah stares at her with a slight frown. “Yeah, it sucks. But, that’s life, right?”
“Is it?” Rhannah says, pushing the cart.
Halia tightens her grip, pushing back against the cow. “Yeah, it is. They leave me broken and expect me to make the best of it.”
“That doesn’t have to be your life,” Rhannah says. “If you had unlimited funds, what would you do?”
“I don’t have to tell you every little thing about me, okay? You want muscle, you got muscle.”
 Rhannah pushes the cart forward against Halia’s thrust. “I’m interested in seeing what you’d do if you had more initiative.”
“It doesn’t matter what initiative I have. Where I’m at, I’m going to be a slave. Either to the government, to my body, or to you!”
Rhannah lessens her grip at that, but the horse does not let up. The cart shoves right into the cow’s udders, knocking the wind out of her and sending her falling on her rump, hands around her stomach.
“Oh, shit! Sorry. Are you alright?” Halia shoves the cart aside and gets down to Rhannah.
The cow waves one hand, taking a quick, sharp breath. “N….yeah… it’s alright,” she squeaks, stumbling to her feet. Halia helps her up, and Rhannah sniffles. “That was a punch to the gut, figuratively…” she says, tearing up. “You’re not a slave, Halia. I don’t want you thinking that you are.”
Halia sighs, nodding, and then pushes the cart. “Come on, what else here is good for me?  Remember, life doesn’t exactly afford me that sort of luxury.”
“A well-paying job just might, though,” Rhannah says, tossing one last item into the cart and leading them to the checkout. The bored teen on the other side swipes everything as they continue their discussion.
“Just how well-paying are we talking about here?” Halia asks
“Oh, simple. Well-paying enough that this could be a regular stop for you without you caring about the price,” she says, stepping out.

Rhannah waits outside for the mare to finish up, only to be greeted by the snort of the annoyed horse, her arms occupied by bags upon bags of groceries.
“What was that all about?” Halia asks.
“What? You buying your groceries? Did you honestly expect me to pay for your food?”
“I wouldn’t have to pay for this if you didn’t clean out my fridge.”
Rhannah shrugs. “Were you going to eat that slop?”
“No, but I’d probably just go out and-”
Rhannah waits patiently for a response. Halia narrows her gaze but doesn’t respond.  Instead, she just puts her stuff in the trunk. “You know, I know you’re manipulating me.”
“It isn’t manipulation if you choose to go through with it,” Rhannah says. “And I’m glad you have. So, do you have plans tonight?”
“Tonight?” Halia asks, closing the trunk. “Well, I was planning on grabbing a drink, but now with this detour, I- wait a minute.”
Rhannah smirks and slips into the back seat. Halia marches around to the other side. “Now, wait a minute, here. You… you wanted me to be broke!”
“You’re already broke,” Rhannah says.
The car pulls off, and the cow turns towards her equine companion. “I just made sure you spent the last of your money on something important. Now then, you haven’t been able to keep steady employment. Is that because you are unfulfilled, or you just don’t like environments in which you find yourself?”
“Oh, no, throwing out drunk bastards trying to cop a feel on me is what I’ve always wanted to do with my life.”
“Not much of a guardian, then, are you? Exactly what I thought.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Someone, as decorated as you are, doesn’t get where they were simply because of their dedication to protecting people.”
“Right, right, this again. You think I’m just going to bend over backward and do anything you ask me to.”
“Within reason, certainly. I know full well what happens when you’re upset,” Rhannah responds, cradling her udders.
“Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”
“No, you’re right.”
“What? That you’re trying to make me your slave?” Halia glances over towards her. “You just said-”
“Oh, I know, I know. There’s a distinct difference in that you are entering a voluntary position and I do not own you, but I do wish for your service.”
Halia snorts. “So, what? You want me to pick up your coffee? Do your laundry?”
“If you wish,” Rhannah says. “But, truthfully, I just need someone to help me out… keep the life at the top from being less lonely.”
“What about him?” Halia asks, nodding to the front.
“Chance? He has much more important things to be doing than chauffeuring me around, don’t you, Chance?”
“Uh, yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t have anyone dedicated to helping me out with any and all of my needs, and he certainly won’t be able to provide what I require daily. “
“Eh… I guess I can give this servitude thing a shot,” Halia says, leaning her elbow against the door. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else interesting, anyway.”
“Very good, then. Chance, take us home.”
The house is large—easily large enough for an extended family to find comfortable, and it sits on a grassy hill overlooking neighboring farmland. A moving truck sits at the end of the driveway, locked tight. Rhannah gets out of the car and goes right to the truck, opening it up to a selection of boxes.
“What’s going on here, exactly?” Halia asks
“New place overlooking the dairy over there. Thought I’d get myself close to the action, but the place is far too big for me to maintain on my own.” She climbs up into the truck and grabs the first box, handing it over to Halia. “Here—you can put it in the front room. I’m going to figure out what should be going in next.”
Halia hefts the box in her hands and heads on inside. The building itself is cold—powerful AC for a hot day—and each of her hoof clops echo throughout the spacious interior. She drops the box, leaning against the wall and shivers. “Damn… it really is lonely in here…” she says, rubbing her shoulders.
The door opens up, and Rhannah steps inside, glancing around with a bright smile on her face. “With a little work, this can easily be home, don’t you think?”
“I think its too big for a single woman all on her own.”
Rhannah shrugs, placing her box down. “Well, I mean, it doesn’t have to be me all by myself out here. The drive would probably get annoying for you if you were going to stick around in that apartment of yours.”
“Driving from my place all the way out here would probably kill my car.”
“Then, maybe you should consider taking one of the guest rooms. Room and board, plus pay? How’s that for benefits?” She walks off, a spring in her step.
“Board? I just bought my own damn food!” Halia shouts, missing the cow. She snorts, heading out to finish up the work.
A few hours later, and the sun begins to set on their long day out. The boxes are all set aside, and the food all put away. Rhannah plops down on one of the boxes, drinking a crisp, clear glass of water. “‘Nothing like a hard day’s work,’ my momma always said. Though managing is nothing compared to labor. Funny thing is, we’re getting up bright and early to unpack the rest of this.”
“Yeah, great. How am I getting home?” Halia asks.
“I mean, I guess I could call Chance to have him ferry you there now… but it is so late. I did have them bring me a bed.”
“A… one bed?”
Rhannah shrugs. “Ever have a sleepover?”

Halia can’t believe what she’s hearing. She folds her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes. “You… you’ve trapped me here, haven’t you? In the middle of nowhere, with just you in this house on a hill?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Rhannah says, still sitting on the moving box. “I had this bed ordered and sent here. Figured if I’m going to have a new home, I might as well have a new bed.”
“And, did I factor into that decision at all?”
Rhannah shrugs. “It’s an Alaskan King, but only because I deserve the best.”
“Right, right… it’s fine. I’ll just find a spot on the floor and-”
“No, you won’t!” Rhannah hops up, stomping on over towards her. Quickly, she grabs Halia’s arm. “You’ve been working hard today. You deserve to rest, girl, come on.”
Rhannah tugs Halia away and up the stairs. The horse follows her, letting the cow lead for now until they finally make it to the bedroom.
Once there, she notes the sliding door that leads to a balcony overlooking the dairy. But other than that, and the bed, the place is expectedly empty.
“Well, might as well get comfortable, huh?” Rhannah says, unbuttoning her pants and stepping out of them. She slides into bed, patting the space next to her.
Halia rolls her eyes, but she sits on the edge, pulling her shirt up over her head. This gives the cow a view of her muscled back and her everyday white undergarments. Halia gets out of her pants, kicking them off and scooting on inside under the covers. The bed is cool, and it’s large enough for the two of them to have plenty of space. She just lays there, staring up at the ceiling, seeing shapes of times best forgotten in the mottled pattern above.
Halia’s contemplation of the ceiling ends when Rhannah shifts in the sheets, turning toward her. “So, Halia, I was thinking, maybe-”
Halia presses a finger to the cow’s lips. “Oh, no,” Halia says. “We’re not doing that.”
Rhannah blinks, frowns, and furrows her brow. “What the-oh? Oooh!”
She giggles. “Well, now we know what’s on your mind, don’t we? What a naughty girl you are.”
“What?” Halia snorts. “You’re the one being all creepy and controlling.”
“So, you like creepy women, do you?”
“Who says I like women?” Halia asks, shrugging.
“You certainly seem to have problems with most men,” Rhannah admits. “Can’t blame you. Sometimes, they just don’t understand, you know?”
“Oh yeah? And you’d know that from experience?”
“Maybe… what about you?”
“You want to swap sex stories, now?”
“No, silly. But this is a sleepover. Let’s have some girl talk.”
“Girl talk…” Halia repeats. “Yeah, right, sure! How about we talk about you? What makes you want to be in control of everything?”
“I honestly have no interest in being in control of things. I run a business, but that’s all it really is. Sometimes… I just want to relax and let someone else take the wheel.”
Halia shifts over to lay facing the cow. “Even a loss of control is an obsession with it.”
“That’s not what you were asking me. You seem to be the one obsessed with it. You like to flex those muscles of yours and show everyone you’re the boss, but then you also go around and let someone else hold your hand.” She reaches under the covers, finding Halia’s hand. “People worry too much about things. Ever just want to… let go of those worries? I know I have.”
“And you think I can help you do that? It could never be a permanent thing. Just warning you.”
“Oh, nothing’s really permanent. The days slip away, and we wake up to a brand new opportunity, or we don’t wake up at all. Either way, it’s not that bad.”
“That’s… pretty grim,” Halia says, pulling her hand away.
“Or it can be beautiful. Ever consider beauty from what is deemed to be ugly? I saw your ugly story when you undressed. The scars.
Halia brushes her fingers over her muzzle. “You don’t know the full story…”
“I read the back of the book.” Rhannah chuckles. “It’s a good quick skim, but I bet there’s more to love deep inside.” She shifts to turn to face away from the horse. “But it’s late. We should get some sleep.”
Halia continues to lay there, facing Rhannah. She strokes over the seam of her muzzle, snorting gently. “War… that’s the really horrible thing,” she whispers.
Rhannah curls up a bit, listening to her. “You only need to share what you want, but… I’d like to hear. After all, if it’s anything like last night, then…”
“R… right…” Halia says, scooting away. She shifts to sit up, but Rhannah pulls the cover off of herself and places hands upon Halia’s shoulders.
“Hey… I’m okay with it. I don’t care if you wake me up in the middle of the night.”
Halia places her hand upon Rhannah’s, patting it. “Yeah, sure…”
Rhannah smirks and then she lays back down, covering herself up. Halia lays there, waiting until the cow’s breath changes, turning slower, more peaceful. Once she is sure Rhannah is asleep, Halia slips out of the bedroom.
The humvee
The explosion
The helicopter.
That fraction of an instant of pain.
The empty numbing nothingness.
Halia jolts awake, pushing herself up from the hardwood floor. The sand of the desert swirls around her, covering her vision.
“Halia…”
Shouts and gunfire blair in the background. She needs to get out, but her leg…
“Halia…”
She’s woozy. Her muzzle. Where is it!?
“Halia. Halia.” The voice calls out to her, piercing through the fog of dust and screaming. The cow sits in front of her, a hand held out, but not touching her. “You’re in my home. You’re safe here. It’s okay. You’re fine.”
Halia’s breathing returns to normal. Though her heart still throbs in her chest, she grabs a hold of that hand, feeling the realness that’s there. A moment later, she embraces the cow, holding her tightly. Rhannah had been there for her, even when Halia didn’t want to be a bother to her...