This morning's prompt is 'belt'.

Stuff!

Waaaaaaaaay behind on my drabbles, nothing done this weekend and the bell is still dead at work.

***

The next day was a bad one. Ben and Brenda investigated a barn with a small herd gathered around the doors and heard calls for help. So they spent half an hour decoying and thinning them out until finally quieting the littlest, heartbreaking one.

It was a mother and her son. She had a tourniquet on her right leg and was running a fever. She had cut it off for obvious reasons and the tween had bound it with his own belt a day ago.

"What's your name, kid?" Brenda had asked him while Ben looked to her stump. He had no idea if she would make it or if the fever was death, un-death, stealing over her, but he was damned if he was going to write her off. He shared a look with Brenda and she actually smiled.

"Tom. My name is Thomas Kearney."

"Tom's a good name; you know why?"

Tom shook his head.

"Because it's your name, silly!"

Tom smiled and it reached his eyes briefly before he looked towards his Mom. Ben stared at Brenda. He felt something, and mentally kicked it in its ass, but he realized he was smiling anyway.