|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Feb 03, 2010 8:31 am
She stood bent over in the barn aisle way, rummaging through her brush box for a curry comb; her trusty dark steed stood patiently in the cross-ties. She straightened up victoriously, brush in hand and turned to face the handsome gelding she called her own. He was her pride and joy, Celaris, and a very expensive gift from her parents when she had outgrown her pony. On course and in competition he had a fiery heart to match her own but on the ground he was quiet and easygoing, rather like a big puppy dog than the mass of muscle and strength he really was. She reached up, scratching between his ears affectionately and giving his neck a pat before moving the curry comb over his smooth black coat. Celly whuffed appreciatively and lowered his head with half-closed eyes; he always enjoyed his daily pampering and today was no different.
Eliza smiled as her horse relaxed, glancing up towards his face as she ran the brush in circles over his side, “Don’t go to sleep on me, boy, we’ve got work to do later!” She didn’t really consider riding work; she enjoyed it more than anything. She practically lived for it. She wasn’t sure what they would get up to today, a trail ride might be nice. Things were especially pretty right now, all covered in ice and snow and it was a great way to unwind after a long week. It wasn’t a scheduled schooling day so it invited a more leisurely attitude that both horse and rider had quickly adopted with ease.
She bent over her brush box again, looking for her body brush. The barn was surprisingly quiet for a change, filled only with the occasional snort or clatter of hooves.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 03, 2010 7:01 pm
Elke did not own her own horse, she didn't want to own her own horse, she had a rather frightening memory of getting thrown from a horse two years ago as a matter of fact. But she did remember that, for the first thing, Maman respected people who knew how to ride horses. She thought it made them cultured. And, for another thing, it would get her extra credit in gym class. For the last thing, well, the heroines in romance novels always knew how to ride horses. If she ever wanted to end up in a book like that, or in a life that echoed them, she would have to ride horses.
She always forgot to add into the sheer size of a horse into the equation, so instead of approaching the school horse she was being allowed to use, she was standing awkwardly outside the stall, staring at it. And then, really worried--that horse had a scary look in its eye!--she looked to the only other person in the barn.
"Um... hello," she said, knocking carefully on one of the wooden posts so as not to startle the brunette girl. "I was wondering... can you help me?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
