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Description

Bid for Import 044

In a way she felt like the creature on the other side. Captured, trapped and nowhere to go. It just stood there, on the other side of the yard, as far away from anyone as it could come. Everything it had known as solid, as life, had been turned upside down. Everything ripped away and leaving it exposed for everyone to see. The young woman on the other side knew how it felt like. She was a kindred spirit in confusion and pain. It wasn’t like she had been poked at with those cattle-prods or chased, forced into something unknown but the abuse her ex had put her through had been both physical and mental, leaving her scars both on the inside and out. Thanks to fate or whatever you believed in she got away from him but not without her fair share of bruises and badly shattered heart. She had felt like the animal on the other side on the bars probably did now when she for the first time was on her own. The man had been a part of her for so long and now…finally free, that freedom had scared her, just as this new life most likely scared the horse.

A muzzle with strong agile lips now approached the green bucket and it was quite easy for it to tip it over, spilling the content into a puddle. The chestnut stallion must have done the same thing not that long ago, the woman pondered, since there were already the remains of a previous puddle. Strong, straight legs moved slightly, shifting the weight between its forelegs. Abi watched in silence how the horse pawed, trying to make the puddle more muddy. She sat as still as she could so she wouldn’t spook the horse. Some went back and forth as they looked at the horses, most had someone do discuss a possible purchase with. Not her though, but she didn’t really care. She nudged her hat up to itch on a sweaty spot on her forehead. A light rustle was heard from her bracelets and the horse stopped for a moment before taking a step back but without completely leaving its puddle of mud. A short look and then it took that step forward again.

She had them to cover the scars up, to avoid the look people gave her, a look she hated. A look that mostly was filled with pity, sometimes it was curiosity and sometimes they looked at her like she was someone that was sick. She had been once. She had been sick of living, breathing, existing…being her.

The horses had saved her. Their kind, no judging eyes, their comforting presence had healed her, at least for most part. There were still the nightmares where she relived some of her horrors, like his hands around her throat. Everything else had healed but that dream was like a constant reminder of what had been. Then…she…the unlucky one, was lucky for once. If it was fate or not she didn’t know…but the odds that you won on the only single lottery ticket you could afford, bought with the money bill you just had found…they were pretty low. Yet…it was precisely what she had done. Not the jackpot but enough money to stir her dream back to life of a horse of her own. It had been a rough awakening. The type of horse she needed was far too expensive; others suddenly said the horse just had been bought…just after they met her. Or rather, after they saw her scars, her tattoos…and those weren’t even rude… Perhaps they judged her by the way she looked overall…judged her like a horse never would…

It was after yet another rejection she had seen the ad about the newly caught walers. What made her come here she wasn’t sure. She had never started a horse under saddle before…not on her own at least…she had helped Mrs. Jones starting her prized warmblood gelding under saddle but that was it. She wasn’t even sure if she would be able to afford even a completely green horse, or if Hugo Mavericks would approve her as an owner in the first place. She had seen him once on a show, looking all stern, with piercing blue eyes. Strong but at the same time soft hands had gripped the reins of his mount that almost had looked black as they had passed her, the stallions hooves hitting the ground making it sound like thunder. Or passed by…she had been on the other side that separated the audience from getting in the way of the cross country riders.

There was many if’s to be overcomed to get even close to anything like that, to compete in the same league as him…if she even had lady Fortune on her side to begin with. It wasn’t even sure she would be lucky in this auction; her luck might just as well be all out and drained by now. Abi turned her eyes towards the now rather mud covered horse in the yard. He had a pretty chestnut color only broken up by the thin white stripe on his face and one white hindfoot. She thought she had seen some white spots on his body before but now, after the young stallion thoroughly had rolled in his mud puddle, she couldn’t see them. Was he trying to cover himself up? Hide from all the eyes looking? Was it just to get rid of parasites or dead hair that would fall off with the mud once it dried…or did he do it just for the fun of it?

Moving slowly so she wouldn’t scare him she took up a folded paper from her pocket. She unfolded it and looked down on a list of names. A silly thing perhaps, especially since she didn’t know if she would draw the lucky straw or not…nor that she would be approved…nor if…she could do this. She wouldn’t be afraid to ask for help…if she needed it. She would never be so proud so she would risk hurting a horse. Softly she read the names outloud but it wasn’t until she came to the very last the horse seemed to react. It lifted its head and looked straight at her. Abi shivered. It was like for a short, short moment their souls met, making the space between them spark. She repeated the name she just had said, softly almost in a whisper, only loud enough for the horse to hear it.

“Witjuti...”

For that short moment in time, the ears of the horse perked forward instead of back as they had been before. It was only that fleeting moment even if it felt longer. Then there was a new group of people coming towards the yard and the connection broke. Still Abi smiled…it fitted him…Witjuti...the mud grub… She got up and brushed off the red dust from her black ripped jeans and put her braid with mixed black and red hair back. She could just as well go take a good seat and wait for the auction to begin. When she walked away she didn’t see that the eyes of the horse followed her.

Words: 1200
Ref: [link] by ~PhotographyAndGoats

Registered Name: Witjuti
Stable Name: Grub
Gender: Stallion
Age: 3
Breed: Fullblood Waler
Colour: Chestnut with birdcatcher spots (silver carrier)
Genotype: ee/aa/nZ
Height: 15.3hh
Type: Light (Officer's Mount)
About: Mud seems to be this man's favourite thing in the whole wide world. We're sure he's chestnut somewhere under the clay and dirt and grime that's plastered itself to his fur. He's regularly seen rolling, or digging in the dirt in his yard, and tipping over his water bucket in order to create mud puddles. He seems rather indifferent about humans, so long as he's got something to entertain himself with, though his flight reflex certainly shines through if any sudden movement is made, or a staff member ventures too close. A sensitive soul, it would seem, someone gentle and with a low energy level would be suited to this master of the mud.

Description

Bid for Import 044

In a way she felt like the creature on the other side. Captured, trapped and nowhere to go. It just stood there, on the other side of the yard, as far away from anyone as it could come. Everything it had known as solid, as life, had been turned upside down. Everything ripped away and leaving it exposed for everyone to see. The young woman on the other side knew how it felt like. She was a kindred spirit in confusion and pain. It wasn’t like she had been poked at with those cattle-prods or chased, forced into something unknown but the abuse her ex had put her through had been both physical and mental, leaving her scars both on the inside and out. Thanks to fate or whatever you believed in she got away from him but not without her fair share of bruises and badly shattered heart. She had felt like the animal on the other side on the bars probably did now when she for the first time was on her own. The man had been a part of her for so long and now…finally free, that freedom had scared her, just as this new life most likely scared the horse.

A muzzle with strong agile lips now approached the green bucket and it was quite easy for it to tip it over, spilling the content into a puddle. The chestnut stallion must have done the same thing not that long ago, the woman pondered, since there were already the remains of a previous puddle. Strong, straight legs moved slightly, shifting the weight between its forelegs. Abi watched in silence how the horse pawed, trying to make the puddle more muddy. She sat as still as she could so she wouldn’t spook the horse. Some went back and forth as they looked at the horses, most had someone do discuss a possible purchase with. Not her though, but she didn’t really care. She nudged her hat up to itch on a sweaty spot on her forehead. A light rustle was heard from her bracelets and the horse stopped for a moment before taking a step back but without completely leaving its puddle of mud. A short look and then it took that step forward again.

She had them to cover the scars up, to avoid the look people gave her, a look she hated. A look that mostly was filled with pity, sometimes it was curiosity and sometimes they looked at her like she was someone that was sick. She had been once. She had been sick of living, breathing, existing…being her.

The horses had saved her. Their kind, no judging eyes, their comforting presence had healed her, at least for most part. There were still the nightmares where she relived some of her horrors, like his hands around her throat. Everything else had healed but that dream was like a constant reminder of what had been. Then…she…the unlucky one, was lucky for once. If it was fate or not she didn’t know…but the odds that you won on the only single lottery ticket you could afford, bought with the money bill you just had found…they were pretty low. Yet…it was precisely what she had done. Not the jackpot but enough money to stir her dream back to life of a horse of her own. It had been a rough awakening. The type of horse she needed was far too expensive; others suddenly said the horse just had been bought…just after they met her. Or rather, after they saw her scars, her tattoos…and those weren’t even rude… Perhaps they judged her by the way she looked overall…judged her like a horse never would…

It was after yet another rejection she had seen the ad about the newly caught walers. What made her come here she wasn’t sure. She had never started a horse under saddle before…not on her own at least…she had helped Mrs. Jones starting her prized warmblood gelding under saddle but that was it. She wasn’t even sure if she would be able to afford even a completely green horse, or if Hugo Mavericks would approve her as an owner in the first place. She had seen him once on a show, looking all stern, with piercing blue eyes. Strong but at the same time soft hands had gripped the reins of his mount that almost had looked black as they had passed her, the stallions hooves hitting the ground making it sound like thunder. Or passed by…she had been on the other side that separated the audience from getting in the way of the cross country riders.

There was many if’s to be overcomed to get even close to anything like that, to compete in the same league as him…if she even had lady Fortune on her side to begin with. It wasn’t even sure she would be lucky in this auction; her luck might just as well be all out and drained by now. Abi turned her eyes towards the now rather mud covered horse in the yard. He had a pretty chestnut color only broken up by the thin white stripe on his face and one white hindfoot. She thought she had seen some white spots on his body before but now, after the young stallion thoroughly had rolled in his mud puddle, she couldn’t see them. Was he trying to cover himself up? Hide from all the eyes looking? Was it just to get rid of parasites or dead hair that would fall off with the mud once it dried…or did he do it just for the fun of it?

Moving slowly so she wouldn’t scare him she took up a folded paper from her pocket. She unfolded it and looked down on a list of names. A silly thing perhaps, especially since she didn’t know if she would draw the lucky straw or not…nor that she would be approved…nor if…she could do this. She wouldn’t be afraid to ask for help…if she needed it. She would never be so proud so she would risk hurting a horse. Softly she read the names outloud but it wasn’t until she came to the very last the horse seemed to react. It lifted its head and looked straight at her. Abi shivered. It was like for a short, short moment their souls met, making the space between them spark. She repeated the name she just had said, softly almost in a whisper, only loud enough for the horse to hear it.

“Witjuti...”

For that short moment in time, the ears of the horse perked forward instead of back as they had been before. It was only that fleeting moment even if it felt longer. Then there was a new group of people coming towards the yard and the connection broke. Still Abi smiled…it fitted him…Witjuti...the mud grub… She got up and brushed off the red dust from her black ripped jeans and put her braid with mixed black and red hair back. She could just as well go take a good seat and wait for the auction to begin. When she walked away she didn’t see that the eyes of the horse followed her.

Words: 1200
Ref: [link] by ~PhotographyAndGoats

Registered Name: Witjuti
Stable Name: Grub
Gender: Stallion
Age: 3
Breed: Fullblood Waler
Colour: Chestnut with birdcatcher spots (silver carrier)
Genotype: ee/aa/nZ
Height: 15.3hh
Type: Light (Officer's Mount)
About: Mud seems to be this man's favourite thing in the whole wide world. We're sure he's chestnut somewhere under the clay and dirt and grime that's plastered itself to his fur. He's regularly seen rolling, or digging in the dirt in his yard, and tipping over his water bucket in order to create mud puddles. He seems rather indifferent about humans, so long as he's got something to entertain himself with, though his flight reflex certainly shines through if any sudden movement is made, or a staff member ventures too close. A sensitive soul, it would seem, someone gentle and with a low energy level would be suited to this master of the mud.