pack mule

All Samir owned was a pack mule, a pile of mottled wool, a few coins, the near-dead donkey Rostam, and now me—a pet monkey.

He trotted over to his pack mule and prepared the bundle of goods.

The pack mule trudged under the weight of a dozen bundles of wool, while Samir’s ancient donkey had no run to speak of.

When Samir looked back and saw the donkey, the pack mule, and me lagging behind, he slowed to a walk.

He stared at me as he reached into the pack mule’s saddlebag, I thought maybe for a knife.