Back In the Saddle Again
The early morning sun filtered through the trees in the paddock of the Destiny City racetrack, casting golden light on the flanks of the horses being saddled for their breeze runs for the day, warming up before the races scheduled for the afternoon. Trainers and exercise riders alike chatted amiably with each other and smiled at one rider in particular, watching with warmth and a touch of concern as he was given a leg up and settled himself in the saddle, hitching the toes of his riding boots through the short stirrups before guiding his mount down the path and onto the track. A breeze wafted through the rider's shockingly pink hair as he urged the horse into a gentle canter.
It had been awhile. About a year, in fact.
Perrie was beyond happy to be back on a horse again, and he couldn't help but smile as he stood in the stirrups and held the big brown thoroughbred in check with the reins. "Easy," he murmured, watching the animal's ear flip back to listen to him. "That's a good boy." He didn't care about the dull ache in his lower back; he knew that was due to overdoing it on the workout equipment in the jockeys' room and not the vertebra that was still healing from a hairline fracture. The young man had fought hard to get back to even this level of fitness, practicing every day since leaving the rehab facility to strengthen his arms and legs and core muscles so he could ride once more. There was talk that he'd never work as a jockey again, not with what had happened. But with his typical you can't tell me what I can and cannot do attitude, a lot of determination, and his undying love for horses, here he was. Sure it was only a breeze run, but it was a start.
He couldn't remember the accident itself. One second he was urging his ride around the clubhouse turn near the front of the stampede, the next he was waking up in a helicopter being spoken to by an EMT and the world was dark and blurry and muted, as if heard through stuffing in his head. Horse broke down, they told him, you were thrown and trampled. Don't move, you're lucky to be alive. Broken leg, broken arm, cracked pelvis, cracked vertebra in his lower back, cracked ribs, punctured lung, whiplash, concussion. Don't expect to ever ride again, they told him. Be happy you're not in a wheelchair. Months in the hospital to heal turned into months in the rehab facility building up his strength and stamina again. He wasn't about to quit.
At least all the training was keeping his mind off talking cats and strange girls with magical powers. He was pretty well convinced he'd hallucinated it all, even though it was so vivid in his mind. The funny pen-thing he felt obliged to carry around in his pocket put the lie to that. He'd even stopped his magic mushroom consumption as a result and was clean as a whistle when he had his accident. Maybe someday he'd be able to explain to himself what happened that night…
The horse's trainer signalled to Perrie to begin his run, and he nodded and dropped into the familiar jockey's crouch, letting the thoroughbred have his head and break into a full gallop. His focus was turned to what he felt he was born to do: ride horses really really fast. It was good to be back.
(word count: 591)
