Filly

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A trainer meets his match.
865 words
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meop79
meop79
6 Followers

There she was, wild; he could see from her that she had been broken at one point. But his fists ached with a desire to clench at the thought of the brute who must have once owned her. She had no brand, but the marks were there for any trainer to see and he moved slowly, slowly.

Yet, she was beautiful.

Flowing mane matted and dirty, coat unkempt and matted, there on her side he could see a sore spot she had been rubbing herself at in an attempt to ease the pain of a skin infection. Her hooves were clearly in need of clipping and she only had one shoe. Yet...

She was beautiful.

Her lines told the tale her muscles still strong under the damage of poor care... Yet, they were Lipizzaner lines, exotic and beautiful. Where had she come from? Who knew...? He knew this, he would not leave here without her, not willing. He saw some understanding in her eyes and fear. His hands wanted to tense again, to rend, to tear, but instead he began his prattle. The words didn't matter, perhaps she understood, perhaps not... but through them his tone began to sink into her. She spooked a bit.

Dashing back and around limping slightly she still moved with astonishing grace. The patter never stops... his body displays what he wants it too, calm, acceptance, peace... She circles and comes back around, listening. She stamps and whinnies, throws her head around eyes rolling. Planting her feet, facing him, pawing the ground. She was warning him. Threatening him. Telling him to run away or she would hurt him.

He never changes and the patter never ends. He watches as her sides heave; she moves sideways, indecisive, sidling around behind him. He knows the danger here but doesn't move. The patter never stops...

[Whuff] [Whuff] [Whuff]

Her hot breath tickles the back of his neck. She could reach forward and break his neck or rear back and pound him with her hooves; but, the patter never changes... he doesn't move, every inch calm, expressing peace... safety... acceptance.

[SNAP]

She whips her head forward and bites his hair, tugging his head sideways roughly, but not so hard as to more than hurt. She let him go. The patter modulated and mixed with mild scoldings and a gasp of pain, but he used her flick of him to turn to face her again. She started to startle at his move, but seemed to hear him, tilted her head, bent down and shoved her forehead straight at his chest.

[Thump]

He landed on his butt. But, the patter never stopped. Chiding lovingly he looked up into her eyes as she came and stood over him. She bent her head down and butted him again, gently this time. His arms wrapped themselves around her head and neck... lightly caressing, touching. His patter changed in inflection only, expressing delight and appreciation. Telling her in its tone and its tenor what she needed to hear. She whuffed at him. Kissed at his neck with big sloppy kisses and began to search his jacket. She knew somehow of the sugar cubes he kept there and it wasn't long before he was back on his feet and she was eating them from his hand.

He led her slowly, on a tortuously circuitous route back to the truck and trailer. Tracing and retracing, leading and caressing, the patter never changing. She whinnied and bolted; he stopped and waited. She came back. He walked with her guiding gently, the patter never changing, loving and sweet, caring and low.

She wheeled on him, bucking, slamming her hooves into him. The ground hurt. The ground doesn't usually hurt. Odd bits of thoughts flitted through his head and he waited. He couldn't see her and his patter hurt. He was cold and the night was long, but the patter never changed, even husky with pain. He waited, eventually sitting slowly with the sun. Was that her? His head spun. Even he wasn't sure what his patter meant anymore, but the sound carried his heart to her.

The sun baked into him. There was shade. She was there, whuffing at his hair, nuzzling his neck. He leaned into her. He pushed him with her head and he whimpered. She spooked some at that, then leaned into him, every line of her willing him to his feet. He used her neck for support and got back to his feet, slowly so slowly. He led her on slower now, but his patter never changes. Safe, you're safe the patter said, always.

They crossed back over patterns once made. She was led, she followed. She stumbled; he waited. She needed time; he caressed her, calmed her, reassured her with every drop of his endless patter. She was unsure; he was sure and she took her cue from him. They were there...

She wasn't afraid anymore. She was ready and climbed aboard the trailer without needing to be urged. He selected a halter from a bin at the back of the trailer and slipped it on her. She let him, even helped him, and he knew she was his.

meop79
meop79
6 Followers
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3 Comments
chytownchytownover 8 years ago
Loved it*****

Thanks for sharing.

bigcharley43bigcharley43over 8 years ago
Horses

You seem to understand horses. Can you write more about them. I never got any closer than the horse of the Milkman and the greengrocer. This was all in the fifties.

I find them very special animals. I now have a dog.

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
Wow.

Simply, beautiful.

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