e v e r y w h e r e I [go] {Open}

[Pixel]

The young woman led the huge black colt up to the outdoor arena. The temperature was cool, but she didn't mind. Her breeches were worn over long johns to protect against the chill, her English boots on her feet. A Columbia jacket covered a teeshirt and kept her warm enough, and her black riding gloves were worn on her long hands, although they did little against the chill. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was worn in a ponytail pulled half way through on the rubber band on the back of her head, having by passed a helmet.

It was a day of new training for the big black colt. "C'mere, Drummer," Mackenzie murmured as she clucked him closer to the fence. She mounted on the r ight side, just to get him used to all kinds of crap, and sat quiet for a moment, gathering her reins and slipping her toes into the stirrups. She shook the loose strands of hair that had fallen from the bun out of her eyes as she drew in a deep breath and tightened her reins.

She took her time warming the colt up. She knew that the colder weather stiffened the horses up, and she was over protective of her beautiful black colt. She took no risks when it came to his safety, although her own was a totally different matter, as the lack of a helmet made obvious. Even now, for the light training prep work they would be doing today, the colt wore white boots to protect from clipping and things of the sort. Once again, she took NO risks when it came to the well being of her horse.

With a slight wiggle of her pinkies on the reins, the colt dropped his head and a rched his neck, tucking his nose in a tad behind the verticle, just as she had trained him to do. With a cluck and the slightest of squeezes, he sprang forward into an energetic working trot. She sat deep in the saddle, working her fingers carefully until he held his legs in the air a bit longer, slowing the trot a great deal until they were dancing. She continued to ask him to slow the pace until they were moving forward at the slowest possible of paces. She released, letting him spring forward once more into the energetic, flowing working trot. She didn't want to push it their first time working on the movements. She nudged him up to a canter and the colt obliged fighting her hands a bit, clearly wanting to stretch out his neck. "In a minute, my Drummer," she murmured, again wiggling her pinkies to keep him in check. The colt snorted disdainfully and submitted to the gentle pressures of the bit on his mouth.

Mackenzie rode with extremely soft hands. Some might even say too soft, but Drummer was probably one of the lightest horses a person would ever see. He rarely fought the bit, except for the rare days when he was feeling rebelious, like today. But even then he submitted back to the pressure.

They came down to the working trot and crossed over on the diagnal so they were moving in the opposite direction. The colt was a free mover, with nice, elastic gaits and an energetic spring that really made him look like he was having fun, like this was all just a big game, and, in a way, it was. If horse and r ider both had as much fun as they did, it must be a game, right?

[♥ poppies]

Legs extended over the big bay horse's sides. Seven years old with a short racing career and had just gotten off the trailer after a two hour drive but he felt like a colt in Kris's hands. Driving out to see him once and then staying the night and that morning riding him for an hour to see how he moved she liked him. A great mount for competition would be wonderful when she found time away from racing. Long lead line clipped to one side of his halter and the end of it held her in hand she had wanted to put him in a bridle but the halter worked easier. No saddle and just his cooling blanket strapped on with his traveling things also still on. Kris had already walked him once around the barn and in a few of the pastures and it had been an hour since he got there but he was great. When Kris had heard the steps of someone else in the barn and they walked by she had seen a girl before tacking her horse. A blond girl with a big dark bay or a black horse, possibly thoroughbred or warmblood, of some type. The girl had been seen once in the indoor arena when Kris had gone to walking the unnamed filly she had gotten. Strong sturdy legs moved and clipped on the evenly grazed over two month old pavement of the barn's driveway. Not far from the stables was the outdoor riding ring and Kris had wanted to tack the horse up but decided a bareback lesson might make her feel at home. Since it was winter she'd keep his cooler on.

Flowing dark brunette hair held back in her old style ponytail, each side evened out perfectly. The bands in her hair a dark black so it didn't look out of place. Her olive green jacket she always wore and her jeans with the holes in the knees. Her own hands had gloves on and she had just cleaned out the entire stables for everyone in generosity. To all of Kris's problems besides the fact that Westley had re-run into her life she also hadn't seen Beau since then and was suppose to be training his horse. So far she had turned them out a couple times and given them a carrot or two when she mucked out the stalls but she hadn't seen him since. Her hands slowly drifted as she pulled him to a stop with the one lead line and draped it over his neck as she stood at his side. A nice even pace was held as she approached the outdoor ring she saw the girl was riding. Waiting as she passed by she clucked and gave a small tug on the stallion's lead line. He came willingly as she spoke to give alert of her presence. Gate! An alerting voice to give awareness to the other girl as she opened the arena gate before turning the big bay around in his navy colored cooler and then latched the gate back up again. Rubbing his neck she approached the middle of the ring and straightened out the cooler before walking him towards the small mounting block that was basically a bucket in the corner. Standing on it she swung her leg over his back and snatched up the lead line and then turned it to the side letting her legs dangle.

The tall stallion's name was Martini and with what his previous owner had told Kris was that he'd make a great trail horse and probably with some more weight and shine in his coat he'd be a good western horse. Kris liked that in horses, western was a great thing but the thrills of cross-country was even better. Nugding him with her heel she drew one hand on his muscular neck and had him start to walk on the inside of the rail so he wasn't in the way. She was gonna take it simple with him through his paces first.