Simon got a call to his farm one day about possibly taking in another hybrid bull into his care, one that needed a peaceful and friendly rehabilitation and rehoming after a nasty fire on a stormy night had taken his life away, their home destroyed and their herd missing, presumably dead.

The trailer pulled down the driveway, backing up until it fitted between the fence into the large pasture. Simon was on the inside of the fence, begining to let the door drop down softly, light pouring into the trailer.

Simon peeked in slowly, a bandana with a skull jaw pattern covering the bottom half of his face with a black cowboy hat, obscuring his face to the new hybrid. "Hey lad/lassie...its alrigh', no need to be scared, you got a new home now.." The cowboy said softly, one foot on the trailer door.

And despite the bad lighting, Simon could see the spots of burnt fur, partially gaunt stomach and thin legs, the bull hybrid being surprisingly more cowerdly and resigned then what an actual bull would be.