Ever vigilant, his eyes search for any movement, and his nose sniffs. He must be able to smell the dangers, or the food.

Precious food he always needs. Almost starving most of the time it would appear.

Prancing down the sidewalk to the odor filled area. He grabs a piece of bark, chewing it. Casually dropping it. He pulls ahead.

Wait. Head in the air. He snorts, clearing his nose. Gazes into the old farm. Hears them. Sees them move.

Stiff and rigid now. Then he bays. Monsters!

I laugh. "Yep, it's the monster horses, Victor."

We walk home safe again.