Oh, its all about the horse.

[April Conners]

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Oliver tugged vigorously at his hay net, grabbing onto as big a piece as he could before playing a good long tug of war. He could really take down quite a bit of hay these days. My precious, expensive hay. I could feel each tug pulling at my bank balance, feeling as the hay net got lighter so did my wallet. I had resorted to feeding him two hay nets inside each other just to slow him down, but even then he got through the haulage pretty quickly. He would finish hay nets quick then stand looking innocent and starved pleading with his eyes crying “You didn’t give me any, honest.” I swear, his name Oliver twist suits him at dinner time, nudging and begging “Please, Miss, can I have some more?” And if that goes work he resorts to kicking the door in, a well known equine trick.

Tug, tug, tug, then, Chomp, chomp, chomp.

I could hear him eat away happily as I dumped his tack on the stable door. I had tied him up outside his stable where I knew he would be happy as long as he had something to keep him busy. Without it he wouldn’t be able to stand still. He would just fidget all day long which was a pain when you wanted to get things done and as painlessly as possible. I turned around leaning on the stable door to look at him in ecstasy chewing away at his feed. I started to day dream, imagining what it would be like if me ad Oliver where international show jumpers winning everywhere we went. We would have the best stables, the best feed, the best everything and oh, we would be able to afford it, too.

I shook my head quickly, waking up. Pigs might as well fly. Although Oliver was going much better, nobody could say he was ready for that kind of competition. Never mind the fact that it cost money, and my budget was stretched enough just keeping myself on damn horseshoes. I leaned down quickly to grab the first brush that was in my grooming kit. Oliver was a ticking time bomb, the haynet like an hour glass for how long I had left to get the job done before I got my toes tread on like there was no tomorrow.

“Oh, you!” I sighed deeply, giving him a light slap on the chest.

I started to scratch his chest, just where he liked it. Oliver stopped eating for once and stretched his neck out up into the air, closing his eyes and snorting away, showing his appreciation. I couldn’t help but smile at his facial expressions. I stopped so he wouldn’t decide to return the favour and started to get on with grooming him, moving down his neck with the curry comb. I was quite pleased to see him itch his ear on his haynet rather than eating it straight away.

“Why do you have to eat so much, huh?” I asked him, glancing at him as he returned to his haynet. “Why can’t you just, just...” I sighed. It was hopeless.

“Well at least you look pretty damn good for something that eats like a, well, horse.” I laughed, standing back to admire my work so far.

His chestnut coat was just made to gleam. At least he was in good condition. I didn’t really have to do much work to make his coat look good since I had spent hours of hard work a couple of days before hand giving him a complete makeover after he came in from the field completely caked with mud. I walked over to his head, taking a hold of the sides of his head collar. He nudged me for sometime nice to eat or some titbit, nuzzling and trying to act as adorable as possibly, flicking his ears forward smiling at me. “We’ll we’ve got our love to pay the bills, don’t we baby?” I stroked his forelock aside. He shook his head messing up his newly brushed mane.

“Oi, listen you!” I gave him a quick flick on the nose and was going to give him a little telling off until I heard hoof beats. Oliver of course started to whinny like a maniac and suddenly found himself unable to stand still, dancing about. I stared ahead waiting to see who it was.

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Word count -- 743
Status-- Done-ness
Tags -- April && Giselle
Notes -- Natt

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[Giselle Renard]

I’d worked Romeo hard that day, and I’d known it. There had been frustration welling in the back of my mind, and try as I might, channeling it was nearly impossible. It probably wasn’t the best choice of mine to ride then, with all that pent-up emotion, but it was a decision I had made. After all, atop Romeo, my mood frequently changed. I’d saddled him up in a no-nonsense fashion, allowing him no treats other than the occasional lingering pet or kiss upon the nose. He was quite put out by this change in my temper, for rarely did he – or anyone for that matter – witness me in such a state of befuddlement. Still, he complied willingly, and for that I was grateful. Usually my sessions with him were no longer than an hour, but today I worked him much longer, not to mention more vigorously, than usual. Thankfully, he ‘cut the crap’ so to speak, leaving me room to train him rather than spend time scolding his misdoings.
Needless to say, he recognized I was in no mood for his folly.
Occasionally, he’d slip up – try something which I was not eager to put up with. Like I’d said before, Romeo was not the brightest crayon in the box, and this left him forgetful and often unwilling to cooperate. When he did fault, I found an upside to my otherwise rancid mood: I was able to easily right his behavior with little more than a stern noise. He may not be the most intelligent creature, but he knew.
By the time we’d reached our typical hour mark, he was frothing at the bit. A thin coating of sweat darkened his flanks, and he had disintegrated into somewhat of a nervous wreck. I realized that I’d pushed him further than I had in a while, but he was still young and able – just indolent, as per usual. Even after that I continued to push him, although met half way and allowed him a fair number of breaks where we would just walk around in circles, me praising his talent in one section or another. I’d been mainly focusing on jumping, for that was where he was falling a little rusty. Last time we’d jumped, he’d knocked a pole so impossibly hard that I was afraid he’d injured himself. I was a little apprehensive about running him over the same jump, but he found no problem in clearing it this time, and happy I was for that. After he’d loosened to the idea of working more, I found him to be actually quite responsive. He seemed more than ready to take on more fences, and I allowed him to ‘take the reins.’ I did not doubt that he loved to jump, but I also did not doubt that his first passion was to run. Partially thoroughbred, he would often cavort around his paddock when turned out. Rarely did I give him his head when we were riding, for his muddied lineage would not allow him to race on the professional circuit. Besides, I was too tall for a jockey, so I decided instead to focus on something which would benefit us both. That something was usually jumping.
Show jumping or cross-country, I hadn’t decided yet. After all, Romeo looked so adorable with mud splattered across his face.

I did feel better after dismounting and tossing the reins over Romeo’s head. He looked positively exhausted, and I could sense that the only thing he wished to be doing was burying his head in a bale of hay. I could sympathize, for the soreness in my legs was already beginning to ache. Hey, it had been a workout for me, too! Removing my helmet, I tossed it under my arm, momentarily leaving Romeo’s head free. With this newly acquired freedom, he extended a leg and ran his cheek against the length of it, either frantically itching or attempting to worm the bit from his mouth. No could do. I gave him a reassuring pat that promised his release shortly, and then pulled my hair from its scraggly ponytail, shaking my head. The air felt good against my matted scalp, and I allowed my head to hang for a few moments, savoring the coolness of the breeze. When I noticed Romeo’s wandering attention however, my hand flew to his reins, constricting him from any further movement. He snorted in protest, but I would not allow my recently uplifted mood to be dampened by his disobedience. Instead, I delivered a light tug for warning, and led him towards the barn, silently promising to both him and myself that we would soon be relieved of our gear.
Since I took riding so seriously, it was not uncommon for me to dress in full show attire – minus the number, of course – while practicing. Part of the visualization part of goal-achieving, if you will. Now, post-ride, i’m sure that I looked not nearly as elegant as I had upon arriving at the stables. My tan britches were soiled with dust and horse-hair, and my once neatly cuffed shirtsleeves had long unraveled and now hung, defeated-looking, at my wrists. The knee-high boots I had recently gifted to myself were in such a state of disrepair, I preferred not to comment on them. Still, I did not look inconspicuous walking into the barn, a foaming horse at my heels. This normally would have been okay with me, but the girl who was located just down the aisle made me quite uncomfortable about it.
Oh yes, her.
The one who I’d told off the other day. Instantly my nasty mood returned, and I wished that I’d returned a little earlier, as to miss her. I had never been one to back down however, and so turning and running with my tail between my legs was absolutely not an option. I’d walk past calmly, not so much as give her the time of day, and continue with my business. If she decided to instigate something, that was fine – but I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, if need be. For now, I was content imagining her nonexistent.

Trying my best to produce a nonchalant air, I began my jaunt towards her, not so much as glancing her way. Unfortunately, my horse wasn’t as clever. He heard the other equine’s noises and instantly became interested only in unearthing the secrets of the animal who emitted such sounds. All I could do was pray silently that he would choose comfort over curiosity and therefore allow me to lead him away from the scene unfolding at that dreadful girl’s stall. No such luck. Just as we reached that area, he planted his feet and pulled his head towards the other horse, trying to be polite, maybe. The last thing I wanted to do was be polite, and so I yanked him away. Alas, he outweighed me by many pounds, and with every inch he gained, there was an inch I lost. I was slipping towards her. Fear of confrontation gripped me, and with some energy I didn’t know I had, I was able to command him sternly enough non-verbally, and lead him away. Unfortunately, he put up quite a tussle, and may or may not have inflicted damage upon the girl. Not that I cared, or anything. Once we had finally set off again, I breathed a sigh of relief to myself. I still spoke no words, but my energy probably could have carried out a conversation itself. Turning Romeo into his box, I began to undress him, casually turning my glance towards the girl every so often to gauge her reaction to my presence.
Again, not that I cared.
But it was fun to play this little game.

[April Conners]

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“Oh great.” I sighed to myself as I saw just who walked through the door. “This is going to be fun.”

I wanted to say something like looked what the cat dragged in by the state of her. I couldn’t help but look at her up and down. She was wearing show wear, well, it hardly looked any good now considering the state she was in. It looked like she had just entered the cross country class by accident, rather than some fancy ass show class. Ok, ok, I admit I was jealous. I couldn’t help but envy her – just the fact that she had that kind of money to waste on high end showing jackets and cream jodhpurs to wear for basic riding when I was struggling to keep up with my horses feed.

But god, her horse, her poor horse. What had she done to it? Nearly half killed it by the looks of it. My jaw dropped as soon as I saw it plod through the door, my eyes felt as though they had just about blown out my head. I could feel my heart beat a little faster, all my effort going in to dragging my mouth shut again. The stallion didn’t look mature enough to take that much of a work out. Infact he didn’t look that much older than Oliver himself. I was sure he was part warmblood and they take ages to mature, or at least my father used to say with the young German horses he used to bring on. He was completely covered with sweat, soaking, practically foaming at the mouth, poor soul. I tried to convince myself that at least he could get the best of the best, but even still...

Oliver was bouncing by my side, pulling on the lead rope to see his new friend. He was whinnying right in my ear loudly causing my to shy away from the noise as he barged forward, little red ears pricked, so eager to meet the dark stranger. I took a firm hold of the his head collar so he wouldn’t get too carried away and with my other hand the end of the leap rope, easing him back to his place beside me with pure brute force. I managed to get him to stand still, but his with his neck outstretched to the new horse, so pleased to be able to meet a new friend. Horses are herd animals, I suppose. Social things. I couldn’t blame him for that.

The stallion obviously felt the same. No surprises as he started to drag his elegant young rider across to us, just as eager as Oliver were to come and say hello. I could imagine why her clothes were in such a state, the way she was getting dragged across with complete ease, probably because she only weighted a buck o’ 5. It looked like he had just dragged her through a bush backwards anyway. The girl couldn’t seem to stand the fact that her horse wanted to communicate with mine as she desperately tried to pull him away with no such luck with such a strong animal.

“Sorry I can’t control my horse.” I hissed under my breath to her, just loud enough so she could hear. Though, even I admit, having been in the same position its not as easy as it looks. She started to jank on his mouth violently, and I swear I wasn’t exaggerating there. Every pull down the reins tore at me; I wondered if this was the way she rode, looking at the dark sweat patches as he was dragged away past us.

“Steady on,” I said, forcing something out. “He just wants to say hello...”

I hooked my hand over Oliver’s and pulled his nose into me as he looked past. I could feel him whicker and nigger as the horse walked away past us. I my heart was beating like a sledge hammer. I wished I had stayed to see how she handed her horse this morning. I stared on, horrified as she turned him into his box. I felt like everything had been taken out of me, my face very pale. My lips quivered. I wanted to scream at her, yet what could I say? I had little proof that she was mistreating her horse. I just hoped one of the instructor would come along and se and inquire in why the horse in such a state.

I turned my back on her, feeling quite faint. I was shocked at her behaviour towards me but not in a million years had I guessed she would be taking things out on her horse. I tried to get on with brushing Oliver, but every stoke was so weak, barely even tickling him. I placed my hand on his neck leaning onto him, trying to think hard. Maybe I was over reacting. It was a one off. He would probably be groomed properly, given the best feed and rugged and would be as happy as any equine could be. I tried telling myself that over and over again but it was tough to convince that it was still ok.

I sighed deeply, taking a break from my feeble strokes. I took time to look into my geldings deep brown eyes, holding onto the side of his head collar. I pulled him closer to me, looking at his lovable face. At least that stallion would have his next feed; at least he would have all the fancy show tack. At least of that stallion did happen to get ill, whether it was from his owner’s wrong doings or not, he would have a expensive vet to run his eyes over him and say he’ll be fine in the morning. I don’t even know what I’d do if Oliver went lame or got colic. The scholarship fund only goes so far.

I gazed on at the stallion with envy. Perhaps I will go back and see him once he is gone. Yes take a look at his teeth and see just how old he is. Maybe he is a lot older. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I turned around and gulped, staring at the animal in his stall and stared to lean back against Oliver, a wave of emotion flowing over me, I had enough to worry about my own horse rather than someone else’s.

“Oh my gawd...”

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Word count -- 1088
Status-- Rewritten and done
Tags -- April && Giselle
Notes -- Nopes, just April likes to over react

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