Tornado smiled. The feel of the leather harness on his shoulders again. Although he enjoyed standing in his stall while the men and women breathed strange, soothing sounds into his ear whilst scratching his nose and the top of his head, this was what he enjoyed. He heard a familiar shout and holding his head high, leant forward until his shoulders felt the familiar weight. He strained, eager to pull his load. He could hear the rattle of the chains and instinctively knew it was one of the newly felled trees he would be taking down to the mill. An easy job he thought. This would not make his shoulders sore. He heard his shoes ring on the smooth tarmac as he ambled down the road, not realising or caring that he left a trail of broken side shoots and twigs behind as he made his way to the sawmill.