For a moment Tayne looked after him, scratching his head. Then he sighed, went to the back of his truck, and opened it up long enough to rifle through a drawer and pull out a length of rope. If that didn't work, or scared the horse off, he'd just call it in. He closed the door and limped after, hoping the big guy didn't decide to pick up to a trot. There was no way in hell he'd manage to keep up at anything more than a very sedate walk, not with his leg bitten to hell and back.
"C'mon, big guy, please don't make this any harder than it hasta be, a'ight? I just don't want you to get eaten." This was a fine horse, abused in the past or not, and it'd be a shame to see him brought down by a pack of werewolves. Or, well, to imagine it, since Tayne probably wouldn't see it.