Love Me, Love Me Not

Tanga stood at the crest of the hill and sniffed the breeze. The llamas were near, and Reed's damitts. The herd of donks waited below, napping, a long ear occasionally tilted one way or another. The air stilled in sudden stifling silence, a concussion then a deepening rumble tickled up through her hoofs - a furry forest of ears perked in alert - Tanga wheeled, over the far horizon a dark cloud mushroomed over a tall narrow stem.


Time.


Tanga jogged off the hill and through the herd, the others fell in behind her. As they traveled, the herd thinned and spread in a long line. She swiveled her ears. She had a glimpse of one donk to each side, and heard a hint of the one past that. She lowered her head and picked up a canter.


She slowed as the llama scent grew stronger and the long line of donks stretching to each side of her curved up and around until when they came upon the herd, they walked in from all directions.


Don't run from the damitts. Tanga sent the reminder both ways around the line of donks. The donks grunted in time to their slow steps as they circled the herd, the llamas tossed their heads and bleated in response before each made its own little circle and folded their knees to settle in fluffy heaps on the sand. The damitts hissed and chattered, and lunged at the donks, but they kept their slow steady pace, gradually tightening the circle.


Tanga lowered her head as the leader approached, gnashing its fangs in agitation. A single, lightening-quick hoof flashed, connected, and Tanga waited perfectly still. The damitt yowled and squirmed away and back. Tanga advanced a step toward it and it cowered. She hopped and struck; the thing darted away, screeching and the others followed.


She watched the damitts fade into the distance as behind her, the donks gathered up the llama herd and headed them down the trail. They'd cache them in a safe valley until the humans got over their arguing.