Fic: Spirit Animal Tales IV, V and E-mails
Spirit Animal Tales IV
By PaBurke
Summary: Dean is a Sentinel and it’s not all that easy.
Spoilers: All of Sentinel, Season 4 of Supernatural
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
Previously: here
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~
Bobby was worried and tried not to show it. At least the boys were returning to his house. Last Bobby had seen Dean, he was fresh from Hell with that crazy PTSD and fugue states and he had wanted Bobby to leave him in the care of a much too secretive Sam.
When Sam had called, asking for a place to lay low for a while and even promising to tell him everything, Bobby had agreed. Sam was not going to sleep tonight until he answered all of Bobby’s questions.
And Bobby had a written list three pages long.
He also didn’t care how long Sam had been driving. Sam was going to keep his promise. Bobby was waiting on the porch when the sleek black car parked in its designated spot. The boys were there so often that Bobby had a space cleared for them.
Dean climbed out of the Impala under his own power. That was much better than before but he was dressed in the stupidest white cotton clothes Bobby had ever seen. “Didja join a cult,” Bobby asked the boy.
Dean flushed the slightest bit and Sam stepped forward to deflect and defend. His face was harder than it had ever been towards Bobby. Odd, that was normally Dean’s reaction. “They don’t irritate his skin. His other clothes do,” Sam said.
In other words, don’t harass Dean to the point that he retreats to his normal looking clothes that would cause him pain and discomfort. Bobby had seen the rashes and welts and the blood streaked skin when the idjit couldn’t stop scratching. No, Bobby didn’t want Dean to return to his old clothes until whatever was going on was taken care of. “Looks comfortable,” Bobby muttered. It was about as close to an apology as Dean was going to get right now. And that reminded Bobby of damn John Winchester and his damned stick-neckness.
Bobby caught Dean’s arm as he passed. “Sorry. I’m glad your clothes aren’t giving you a problem now.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I heard you the first time. No need for a girl moment.”
Bobby snorted and ruffled Dean’s hair. They always did understand each other so well.
Dean breathed in through his nose and an interesting look passed over his face. “Must be the ‘Jack makin’ you weepy.”
Bobby blinked. He searched through his mind for the last time he had Jack Daniels. “That was at lunch!” And he had dinner cooking on the stove.
“Is that burgers I smell?” Dean asked. He made a bee-line for the door, dropping his bag in the living room.
Sam and Bobby charged after him. It was good to see Dean interested in food but… “Dean, wait,” Sam called. “That’s a lot of grease to inflict on your stomach.”
Bobby was quick to agree. Dean hadn’t been able to keep any food down since his return from Hell. Bobby should have known better than to have burgers on the grill. He hadn’t thought that meal through. He had simply cooked Dean’s favorite.
“Ahhh, Sammy,” Dean whined.
“You can have half a piece a meat with a full bun. That should soak up most of the grease, at least slow down your body’s reaction to it.”
“Fine.”
Bobby understood the acquiescence to mean that Dean’s stomach was still bothering him. He finally had the opportunity to ask his questions. “What the hell is going on with you?” he directed at Dean.
Dean had shoved his sandwich into his mouth and pointed at Sam. Bobby dug out his list and slapped it in front of Sam. “What the hell is going on?”
“Dean is a Sentinel,” Sam answered. He brushed Bobby’s list away and focused on the man instead. “All five of his regular senses plus his sixth sense is enhanced far beyond normal capabilities.”
“Like smelling my lunch drink,” Bobby filled in.
Sam nodded. “Like knowing where you’ve been all day by following your trail.”
Bobby stared at Dean. “Like a blood hound?”
“Not quite,” Sam said. “His nose is maybe half as good as a blood hound, but that’s still five times better than a regular human’s.”
“Sixth sense?” Bobby questioned.
“He’ll be able to see the ghosts that most can’t and that are still setting off an EMF meter. But it’ll take a lot of control so that he can use it and not get sidelined by his senses.”
“Okay,” Bobby accepted that explanation. “So what happens now?”
Sam ducked his head. “We need a place to stay for a while. To practice using his senses and to figure out his triggers.”
“How long?” Bobby had seen the hesitancy in Sam’s body language. And Dean set down his sandwich. They were worried that he’d throw them off his property before Dean’s body was ready. “You boys are welcome here as long as you need.”
“Even if it takes years?” Sam asked. “I’ll get a job,” he promised hurriedly. “We’ll pay rent.”
“You boys are welcome,” Bobby repeated. “Don’t be idjits. The room upstairs belongs to you.”
“Thank you,” Sam breathed.
Bobby rolled his eyes. “No need to get weepy. Anyway. Sentinels? Like that Washington cop?” Sam shuttered his expression, but Bobby knew that he was right. “Anyway. I’ve read some things about them. Maybe we can find more information.”
Sam perked right up. “Blair would love to get his hands on original sources of Sentinel research. Where are they?”
“In the library. Sit down,” he ordered. “They ain’t going anywhere. They’ll still be there when you’re done eating.”
“Thanks Bobby,” Dean said and Bobby understood that he was thankful for the place to stay and the access to the resources and everything else.
“Don’t mention it, boys.”
~sntl~spn~
Spirit Animal Tales V
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~
“Chief?” Jim called when he entered the loft. No answer. He extended his hearing and could not hear his guide’s heartbeat. He glanced around and saw the note on the coffee table. He could read it from the entrance but walked closer because surely that was wrong: gone to library. Jim grumbled as he took off his shoes, lined the heels up against the wall and hung his coat on the hook. His keys were placed in their basket and his gun was placed in a drawer. He went into the kitchen to start dinner. It was supposed to be Blair’s turn, as he hadn’t been called into court and into meetings with the DA until dark. Then when Jim had stepped out of the police station into the rain, he had heard some woman being mugged. Seriously, what idiot mugged someone that close to a police station? Jim had chased down the mugger and dragged his ass back to the police station and then had to fill out the paperwork.
He was wet and tired and had been looking forward to a hot meal. Blair had better have a good reason for running off to his favorite spot on campus while Jim had suffered all day. Jim looked into the refrigerator for something that would take too long. There was beef broth leftover from some big batch Blair had made last weekend. Good enough. Jim poured it into a pot to heat up and then clean up plenty of vegetables and cut up a lot more meat than Blair would have added. He dumped it all into the pot, adjusted the heat, grabbed a beer and headed for the couch.
He picked up the note again and this time sniffed it. He smelled… Blair, happy, excited, determined. Blair was on some sort of mission, probably sentinel related since he should have called if it was related to the most recent case Simon had assigned to them. Blair shouldn’t be in trouble.
Then again, this was Blair.
Jim knew that if Blair was truly in the library than he would have turned off his phone, as to not annoy the librarians. The librarians controlled too much information for Blair to causally annoy them. There was another way Jim could check on his guide, but he hated doing it.
And if Blair ever found out how easy this was for Jim he would flip.
Jim closed his eyes, breathed in - breathed out, held his breath for a moment and repeated the procedure. Then he opened his eyes and looked around.
His panther was lying by the doors to the balcony, awake and unconcerned. So Blair was fine. For the first time, Jim felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t told Blair that he could go looking for his spirit guide at any time. Jim always grumbled when the panther showed up as part of premonition or a warning. Why would he go looking for the damn furball? Jim’s first instinct was to investigate whatever himself. He would go looking to a mute animal for help only as a last resort. Blair would cheer that he was ‘embracing his spirituality’ and then he would e-mail the Guide-Sentinel brothers. It was that other Sentinel that made Jim wince. It would have been nice if someone had explained the pros and cons of spirit guides long ago. And if the other Sentinel figured out something about the senses, Jim would appreciate an e-mail in return. Jim was the first to admit that he didn’t know everything about being a Sentinel. There was a huge chance that the other Sentinel would be able to figure out some shortcut that Jim could use. Jim wanted the other Sentinel to e-mail him when that happened.
A steady, familiar thrum echoed in Jim’s head. He let himself smile for a moment before hiding it behind stern frown. Blair was talking to himself during his climb up all the flights of stairs. He was still pretty excited and determined. He was muttering about translators and being complacent in his own education. Jim always worried when Blair started talking like that. Jim worried that Blair would want to give up being a cop and start his education over at a different school.
Blair bustled into the loft like a hurricane. He was talking to Jim way too fast. Jim caught an apology for the lateness and an exclamation of dinner being ready. Blair talked about new data and resources as he pulled two bowls out of the cupboard and ladled the soup into both. Jim sat up a bit to accept the soup and spoon that Blair brought out to him.
It wasn’t until Blair took a sip of the broth that Jim could get a word in edgewise. “So Chief, you wanna tell me what you’re so excited about?”
Blair bounced and sloshed hot soup onto his shirt and pants. He immediately had to set down the bowl and go rinse of his clothes. He talked to Jim the whole time. Jim caught a couple more words then before. Mostly names: Sam, Dean and someone named Bobby.
Blair bounced back into the living room, still flying high.
Jim held out a hand on Blair’s soup to forestall him. “Darwin, slow down. Before you spill dinner over you again. What’s got you in a dander?”
“Sam e-mailed me. They’ve done practice and he recorded it and they told a friend of theirs that they trust. They didn’t give him our names, but they didn’t need to because of the dissertation. Turns out their friend, Bobby, had done a tiny bit of research about Sentinels ‘cause he can read Japanese and in Sentinels are mentioned in their culture too.”
“Darwin, breathe,” Jim ordered.
Blair glared a bit, but obeyed the command. And he was off again. “So Sam and Bobby found some books about Sentinels in several oriental cultures but all of the references are in those languages because they are primary sources. They e-mailed me a list, but I need to find someone I trust to translate everything, or I have to trust Bobby’s translation because I really don’t want anyone at the university connecting you, me and Sentinels together and believe you me, they will if I start asking for translators under the table. ‘Course I have to get a hold of those books, but can you imagine?”
Jim nodded once since Blair looked so enthusiastic and was waiting for his reaction. “Sounds interesting.”
Blair waited a beat and burst out, “Interesting! Interesting? Is that all you can say about research that can make your life better, that might have more information about how to live and more information on how I might be a shaman?”
Jim moved his hand, so that he lifted up the bowl and handed it to his guide. “It’s dinner time,” he told Blair. “Obviously, you can’t get any further on your research tonight. You should eat and then try to tackle the problem more later.”
Blair mutinously glared at Jim and the soup. “I should be online trying to buy the books and having them shipped here.”
“Eat first,” Jim told him. “You don’t want to spill soup on your computer, as well. And it’s not as if someone is going to buy up the books you need in the twenty minutes it’ll take you to eat dinner.”
Blair didn’t look convinced. Jim was sure to pay for his disinterest later, even if (or especially because) he was yanking Blair’s chain now.
Jim used his spoon to point at the soup. “Eat. The research can wait.”
*
Spirit Animal E-Mails
Summary: Dean is a Sentinel and it’s not all that easy. Dean and Jim commiserate via e-mail in their own special way.
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Friendly warning. Pay attention to your pet. It’ll tell you in which direction your guide is and whether or not to be concerned.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Thx. Haven’t seen him yet.
From: pantherwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
You will.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
FYI. Griffins do NOT fit in shower stalls
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
LOL. Panthers hate showers.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Griffins apparently like water.
From: pantherwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Wolves do too.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Dragons stay outside in all weather.
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Huh.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
I take it back. A dragon will come in and take over the library.
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Not surprised.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
The animals come in handy for more than guide location/protection.
By PaBurke
Summary: Dean is a Sentinel and it’s not all that easy.
Spoilers: All of Sentinel, Season 4 of Supernatural
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
Previously: here
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~
Bobby was worried and tried not to show it. At least the boys were returning to his house. Last Bobby had seen Dean, he was fresh from Hell with that crazy PTSD and fugue states and he had wanted Bobby to leave him in the care of a much too secretive Sam.
When Sam had called, asking for a place to lay low for a while and even promising to tell him everything, Bobby had agreed. Sam was not going to sleep tonight until he answered all of Bobby’s questions.
And Bobby had a written list three pages long.
He also didn’t care how long Sam had been driving. Sam was going to keep his promise. Bobby was waiting on the porch when the sleek black car parked in its designated spot. The boys were there so often that Bobby had a space cleared for them.
Dean climbed out of the Impala under his own power. That was much better than before but he was dressed in the stupidest white cotton clothes Bobby had ever seen. “Didja join a cult,” Bobby asked the boy.
Dean flushed the slightest bit and Sam stepped forward to deflect and defend. His face was harder than it had ever been towards Bobby. Odd, that was normally Dean’s reaction. “They don’t irritate his skin. His other clothes do,” Sam said.
In other words, don’t harass Dean to the point that he retreats to his normal looking clothes that would cause him pain and discomfort. Bobby had seen the rashes and welts and the blood streaked skin when the idjit couldn’t stop scratching. No, Bobby didn’t want Dean to return to his old clothes until whatever was going on was taken care of. “Looks comfortable,” Bobby muttered. It was about as close to an apology as Dean was going to get right now. And that reminded Bobby of damn John Winchester and his damned stick-neckness.
Bobby caught Dean’s arm as he passed. “Sorry. I’m glad your clothes aren’t giving you a problem now.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I heard you the first time. No need for a girl moment.”
Bobby snorted and ruffled Dean’s hair. They always did understand each other so well.
Dean breathed in through his nose and an interesting look passed over his face. “Must be the ‘Jack makin’ you weepy.”
Bobby blinked. He searched through his mind for the last time he had Jack Daniels. “That was at lunch!” And he had dinner cooking on the stove.
“Is that burgers I smell?” Dean asked. He made a bee-line for the door, dropping his bag in the living room.
Sam and Bobby charged after him. It was good to see Dean interested in food but… “Dean, wait,” Sam called. “That’s a lot of grease to inflict on your stomach.”
Bobby was quick to agree. Dean hadn’t been able to keep any food down since his return from Hell. Bobby should have known better than to have burgers on the grill. He hadn’t thought that meal through. He had simply cooked Dean’s favorite.
“Ahhh, Sammy,” Dean whined.
“You can have half a piece a meat with a full bun. That should soak up most of the grease, at least slow down your body’s reaction to it.”
“Fine.”
Bobby understood the acquiescence to mean that Dean’s stomach was still bothering him. He finally had the opportunity to ask his questions. “What the hell is going on with you?” he directed at Dean.
Dean had shoved his sandwich into his mouth and pointed at Sam. Bobby dug out his list and slapped it in front of Sam. “What the hell is going on?”
“Dean is a Sentinel,” Sam answered. He brushed Bobby’s list away and focused on the man instead. “All five of his regular senses plus his sixth sense is enhanced far beyond normal capabilities.”
“Like smelling my lunch drink,” Bobby filled in.
Sam nodded. “Like knowing where you’ve been all day by following your trail.”
Bobby stared at Dean. “Like a blood hound?”
“Not quite,” Sam said. “His nose is maybe half as good as a blood hound, but that’s still five times better than a regular human’s.”
“Sixth sense?” Bobby questioned.
“He’ll be able to see the ghosts that most can’t and that are still setting off an EMF meter. But it’ll take a lot of control so that he can use it and not get sidelined by his senses.”
“Okay,” Bobby accepted that explanation. “So what happens now?”
Sam ducked his head. “We need a place to stay for a while. To practice using his senses and to figure out his triggers.”
“How long?” Bobby had seen the hesitancy in Sam’s body language. And Dean set down his sandwich. They were worried that he’d throw them off his property before Dean’s body was ready. “You boys are welcome here as long as you need.”
“Even if it takes years?” Sam asked. “I’ll get a job,” he promised hurriedly. “We’ll pay rent.”
“You boys are welcome,” Bobby repeated. “Don’t be idjits. The room upstairs belongs to you.”
“Thank you,” Sam breathed.
Bobby rolled his eyes. “No need to get weepy. Anyway. Sentinels? Like that Washington cop?” Sam shuttered his expression, but Bobby knew that he was right. “Anyway. I’ve read some things about them. Maybe we can find more information.”
Sam perked right up. “Blair would love to get his hands on original sources of Sentinel research. Where are they?”
“In the library. Sit down,” he ordered. “They ain’t going anywhere. They’ll still be there when you’re done eating.”
“Thanks Bobby,” Dean said and Bobby understood that he was thankful for the place to stay and the access to the resources and everything else.
“Don’t mention it, boys.”
~sntl~spn~
Spirit Animal Tales V
~sntl~spn~sntl~spn~
“Chief?” Jim called when he entered the loft. No answer. He extended his hearing and could not hear his guide’s heartbeat. He glanced around and saw the note on the coffee table. He could read it from the entrance but walked closer because surely that was wrong: gone to library. Jim grumbled as he took off his shoes, lined the heels up against the wall and hung his coat on the hook. His keys were placed in their basket and his gun was placed in a drawer. He went into the kitchen to start dinner. It was supposed to be Blair’s turn, as he hadn’t been called into court and into meetings with the DA until dark. Then when Jim had stepped out of the police station into the rain, he had heard some woman being mugged. Seriously, what idiot mugged someone that close to a police station? Jim had chased down the mugger and dragged his ass back to the police station and then had to fill out the paperwork.
He was wet and tired and had been looking forward to a hot meal. Blair had better have a good reason for running off to his favorite spot on campus while Jim had suffered all day. Jim looked into the refrigerator for something that would take too long. There was beef broth leftover from some big batch Blair had made last weekend. Good enough. Jim poured it into a pot to heat up and then clean up plenty of vegetables and cut up a lot more meat than Blair would have added. He dumped it all into the pot, adjusted the heat, grabbed a beer and headed for the couch.
He picked up the note again and this time sniffed it. He smelled… Blair, happy, excited, determined. Blair was on some sort of mission, probably sentinel related since he should have called if it was related to the most recent case Simon had assigned to them. Blair shouldn’t be in trouble.
Then again, this was Blair.
Jim knew that if Blair was truly in the library than he would have turned off his phone, as to not annoy the librarians. The librarians controlled too much information for Blair to causally annoy them. There was another way Jim could check on his guide, but he hated doing it.
And if Blair ever found out how easy this was for Jim he would flip.
Jim closed his eyes, breathed in - breathed out, held his breath for a moment and repeated the procedure. Then he opened his eyes and looked around.
His panther was lying by the doors to the balcony, awake and unconcerned. So Blair was fine. For the first time, Jim felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t told Blair that he could go looking for his spirit guide at any time. Jim always grumbled when the panther showed up as part of premonition or a warning. Why would he go looking for the damn furball? Jim’s first instinct was to investigate whatever himself. He would go looking to a mute animal for help only as a last resort. Blair would cheer that he was ‘embracing his spirituality’ and then he would e-mail the Guide-Sentinel brothers. It was that other Sentinel that made Jim wince. It would have been nice if someone had explained the pros and cons of spirit guides long ago. And if the other Sentinel figured out something about the senses, Jim would appreciate an e-mail in return. Jim was the first to admit that he didn’t know everything about being a Sentinel. There was a huge chance that the other Sentinel would be able to figure out some shortcut that Jim could use. Jim wanted the other Sentinel to e-mail him when that happened.
A steady, familiar thrum echoed in Jim’s head. He let himself smile for a moment before hiding it behind stern frown. Blair was talking to himself during his climb up all the flights of stairs. He was still pretty excited and determined. He was muttering about translators and being complacent in his own education. Jim always worried when Blair started talking like that. Jim worried that Blair would want to give up being a cop and start his education over at a different school.
Blair bustled into the loft like a hurricane. He was talking to Jim way too fast. Jim caught an apology for the lateness and an exclamation of dinner being ready. Blair talked about new data and resources as he pulled two bowls out of the cupboard and ladled the soup into both. Jim sat up a bit to accept the soup and spoon that Blair brought out to him.
It wasn’t until Blair took a sip of the broth that Jim could get a word in edgewise. “So Chief, you wanna tell me what you’re so excited about?”
Blair bounced and sloshed hot soup onto his shirt and pants. He immediately had to set down the bowl and go rinse of his clothes. He talked to Jim the whole time. Jim caught a couple more words then before. Mostly names: Sam, Dean and someone named Bobby.
Blair bounced back into the living room, still flying high.
Jim held out a hand on Blair’s soup to forestall him. “Darwin, slow down. Before you spill dinner over you again. What’s got you in a dander?”
“Sam e-mailed me. They’ve done practice and he recorded it and they told a friend of theirs that they trust. They didn’t give him our names, but they didn’t need to because of the dissertation. Turns out their friend, Bobby, had done a tiny bit of research about Sentinels ‘cause he can read Japanese and in Sentinels are mentioned in their culture too.”
“Darwin, breathe,” Jim ordered.
Blair glared a bit, but obeyed the command. And he was off again. “So Sam and Bobby found some books about Sentinels in several oriental cultures but all of the references are in those languages because they are primary sources. They e-mailed me a list, but I need to find someone I trust to translate everything, or I have to trust Bobby’s translation because I really don’t want anyone at the university connecting you, me and Sentinels together and believe you me, they will if I start asking for translators under the table. ‘Course I have to get a hold of those books, but can you imagine?”
Jim nodded once since Blair looked so enthusiastic and was waiting for his reaction. “Sounds interesting.”
Blair waited a beat and burst out, “Interesting! Interesting? Is that all you can say about research that can make your life better, that might have more information about how to live and more information on how I might be a shaman?”
Jim moved his hand, so that he lifted up the bowl and handed it to his guide. “It’s dinner time,” he told Blair. “Obviously, you can’t get any further on your research tonight. You should eat and then try to tackle the problem more later.”
Blair mutinously glared at Jim and the soup. “I should be online trying to buy the books and having them shipped here.”
“Eat first,” Jim told him. “You don’t want to spill soup on your computer, as well. And it’s not as if someone is going to buy up the books you need in the twenty minutes it’ll take you to eat dinner.”
Blair didn’t look convinced. Jim was sure to pay for his disinterest later, even if (or especially because) he was yanking Blair’s chain now.
Jim used his spoon to point at the soup. “Eat. The research can wait.”
*
Spirit Animal E-Mails
Summary: Dean is a Sentinel and it’s not all that easy. Dean and Jim commiserate via e-mail in their own special way.
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Friendly warning. Pay attention to your pet. It’ll tell you in which direction your guide is and whether or not to be concerned.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Thx. Haven’t seen him yet.
From: pantherwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
You will.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
FYI. Griffins do NOT fit in shower stalls
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
LOL. Panthers hate showers.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Griffins apparently like water.
From: pantherwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Wolves do too.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Dragons stay outside in all weather.
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Huh.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
I take it back. A dragon will come in and take over the library.
From: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
To: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
Not surprised.
From: griffinndragon@yahoo.com
To: panthernwolf@yahoo.com
Subject: pets
The animals come in handy for more than guide location/protection.