Bankor

Without the imminent threat of attack around every corner, Cole took his two small goats out in the morning. It was raining, but not heavily. He'd fashioned leads to attach to their collars, and the amenable creatures seemed fairly happy to trot along in same direction as the surgeon. After some time, he located a barn that hadn't been torn down by artillery fire, and hadn't yet been raided for hay and feed.

He secured the goats in a loose box, dragging a bale of hay over and breaking it apart with a borrowed pitchfork. Hunkering down, one of the goats tried to nibble at his fatigues as he tossed handfuls of straw about. He shooed them away, so the curious creatures began chasing the clumps of straw he was tossing.

From a bag of what appeared to be oats and other grain, Cole scooped up big double-handfuls, and tossed that amongst the straw too, littering the feed across the floor as he walked.

The rain was pattering on the roof of the barn. There was a leak somewhere, a steady drip, drip, drip nearby, blending with the sound of the weather outside. Cole had his elbows on the gate of the loose box, watching the goats. They had nosed around for some time, searching out the oats, keeping them entertained for quite a while. Having eaten their fill, one of the kids had nipped the other, prompting a game of tag between the pair, butting each other before dashing off to be chased in turn.

The surgeon made a thoughtful sound. There was a water trough, but it had been damaged, standing at an odd angle, drained of water. Scouting around, he found a bucket, but not a tap or a pump to fill it from. At something of a loss, he went outside and put the bucket in the rain before ducking back under the protection of the roof. The goats were bleating at each other, but when he checked on them, they were both trying to clamber on each other's shoulders, unsurprisingly it wasn't proving very successful. Neither of them were distressed by the situation, so Cole left them to it.

Eventually, he fetched the bucket, pushing carefully into the box stall so the goats wouldn't slip past him. One immediately tried to knock him over, almost succeeding, but he hunkered down and planted the bucket firmly on the floor. Before he could move, both kids attempted to dive head-first into the water, and would have knocked that over, if he hadn't been holding it. When they'd both had a chance to drink, Cole slipped out of the stall again. The gate had barely latched when the bucket tipped, spilling onto the hay. The goats stamped their hard little hooves into the water, splashing about and kicking up droplets. They were still damp from the rain, it didn't make much difference as they rolled in the puddle.