Little Goat Mountain Finding my Feet

Mustang listened aptly. He always did, just like momma had always told him to before giving him a little cuff over the back o’the head for not. He gave a little whistle when Malia finished, wincing as he swung his eyes over the mountain they were currently climbing.

Sounds like a real tough time. ‘Msorry you had to go through that. She didn’t know where her mom was, and truthfully, Mustang didn’t either.

My momma’s somewhere back south, I hope. Don't really know where mah sister and brother are. Never met my paw... He sighed. Then, his attention snapped to the side at the low grumble of a stomach, before seeking out the smaller woman’s eyes.

Ya hungry? I could try’n rustle us up some grub? Truthfully, Mustang didn’t know much about hunting. He survived the past winter on scraps.