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Description
And so, with this image, we end one long, unrecorded length of M'Olympa, and start recording the seasons.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

News of Kasper came to her in dribs and drabs, in phone calls from Emily and the vet, who had introduced himself, but the name had gone from her memory. After the fall, they had managed to make Kasper stand, and with his leg splinted he hobbled to the trailer, refusing to lie back down again the whole way home. When he arrived back at the stables, he too fell into a deep, sedated sleep, as the vet worked and examined. His diagnoses came about midnight the same day, and Anna leaned against the doorway as she heard his voice crackle through the phone line. “The good news is it’s not his tendon. There’s a stress in it, but its minor,” he paused, “its the pedel bone that has a fracture in it. He’s not in any pain at the moment, but,” Anna interrupted him. She knew what a fractured pedel bone meant. “He’ll be unrideable.” There was a long silence at the end of the line, and Anna didn’t hurry him. She was sure he could hear her shallow breathing as she began to comprehend the result.

“I know this is hard, but I will put him down for you if you want me to.”

The idea occurred to her that Damien, somewhere, might be able to hear what she was saying. It also occurred to her what her mother would think, what Emily would think – what the equestrian world would think after losing Kasper. Most of all however, it occurred to her that she owed it to the horse not to quit on him after everything he’d done for her.
“No. Don’t put him down. Can you treat it to the point he might be able to move around comfortably?”
“Yes, but this is retirement for him. And he’ll be stable-bound for a long time Miss Torohnali – we’re talking upwards of six months.”
Six months – it wasn’t as bad as she’d been thinking. She had been imagining years.
“Do what you can.”

She hung up the phone and redialled Emily’s number – she answered before the first ring.
“Anna? What did you say?”
“He’s going to treat him. When he’s strong enough to travel we’ll take him back to M’Olympa. For now though he’s stuck. We all are.”

Damien didn't wake up for a number of days. As he dreamt, dwarfed by the sterile grey room, Anna couldn't help but think how he looked like a child, in need of protection. That stiff white sheet, tucked into the side of a mattress, seemed like a flag of surrender, and Anna couldn’t help but see the bitter irony in a jockey falling in a sport that he’d never intended on undertaking; especially when his colleagues died every year in his prior occupation. As the days passed, she found her place in the recliner chair by the head of his bed, finding moments of half sleep when she rested her head on her folded arms, on the edge of his mattress. She would wake up with nightmares soon enough though – the imagined sound and picture of horse and rider plummeting to mud startled her from sleep. Eventually the nurses realised that visiting hours didn’t apply to her, and so she got her own tray of hospital food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Most of it though, remained untouched.

She was resting on the edge of his bed, wide awake, trying to think about how long it would be before they all went home, when something stirred beside her. Something rested on her head, and she thought Emily had come. When she lifted her head, she saw Damien looking back at her – pale, skinny, but awake.
“What happened?”
“You fell. You both did.”
His brow furrowed as he tried to remember, “I remember he was going too fast. Where is he?” Anna took a moment to reply, “You didn’t put him down. You didn’t.”
“No, no,” Anna said, gripping his hand, “We didn’t. He um, has a fractured pedel bone.”
The recognition was clear on Damien’s face – he knew what that meant.
“So that’s it then. Retirement.”
Anna nodded, “You might be feeling a bit sore, too. The doctor said you had the extremity of concussion. You also have a crack in your collarbone.”
“Why am I not in a cast, then?”
Anna turned his hand over, and ran her finger over the lines in the palm, before he took her hand back in his.
“They said the crack wasn’t big enough for a cast to have any effect. You’re just going to have to be quite immobile and inactive for the next few months. They said when you wake up, they’ll put your arm in a sling. Speaking of which, I better go and get a nurse.”
As she rose to leave, Damien tightened his grip on her hand, and looked her in the eye. The was a fierceness in his face, but it wasn’t bravery – it was anger and fear.
“You were the one I looked for. I remember. When they were crowding around me. I looked for you.”
Anna smiled, avoiding his gaze, “I’ll be back.”

It was two months, one week and five days before Kasper was able to be transported back to Australia. When he was let into his stable, the Trakehner dropped his head low, whuffling at the straw, looking around at the parameters of his haven. Anna, Emily and Damien watched him walk around, smelling the air. After a few minutes he went to the very back corner of the stall, and looked back at his viewers – he knew exactly where he was, and Anna could see the relief and sanctuary in his big brown eyes.
“Good boy Kasper,” said Emily, shutting the stall door, “Good boy.” As Kasper dropped his head and went to sleep, Emily walked away crying.

It was a dark year for M’Olympa Estate. A few months after Kasper’s return, Alexandra Silk passed away on a windy afternoon in the back paddock, where she spent her retirement with Madonna. The red terror that had set up M’Olympa’s racing standard simply lay down next to her friend, went to sleep, and never woke up. Only two weeks after Alexandra died, Madonna, in the very same fashion, followed her. Most of their old horses – Rockbourne, Saraghina, L’uomo and Aureo had gone to new homes. Managhar and Perseverance and Skill were on trial at new stables. Autarkhos competed, here and there, but spelled in the second half of the year to avoid any possible stress injuries.

The only light was the group of yearlings that romped in the lower pastures. Summer and Zim, a bay and a greying out black would play fight in the summer days, while in the pasture over, the chestnut filly, full of promise, would nicker and whinny in wish that she could join their games. Occaisionally, on the days that Kasper felt strong, he would watch them – Anna wondered how much he recognised his Summer and Resurgam as his own, and if he felt as hopeful as she did when she watched them move. In the bright days, watching them at play, things didn’t feel quite so broken. Especially when Damien, grounded, would stay by her side, and hold her hand, when she let him. At night though, Anna stayed in her room.

At night, the only person she talked to was God.

Description
And so, with this image, we end one long, unrecorded length of M'Olympa, and start recording the seasons.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

News of Kasper came to her in dribs and drabs, in phone calls from Emily and the vet, who had introduced himself, but the name had gone from her memory. After the fall, they had managed to make Kasper stand, and with his leg splinted he hobbled to the trailer, refusing to lie back down again the whole way home. When he arrived back at the stables, he too fell into a deep, sedated sleep, as the vet worked and examined. His diagnoses came about midnight the same day, and Anna leaned against the doorway as she heard his voice crackle through the phone line. “The good news is it’s not his tendon. There’s a stress in it, but its minor,” he paused, “its the pedel bone that has a fracture in it. He’s not in any pain at the moment, but,” Anna interrupted him. She knew what a fractured pedel bone meant. “He’ll be unrideable.” There was a long silence at the end of the line, and Anna didn’t hurry him. She was sure he could hear her shallow breathing as she began to comprehend the result.

“I know this is hard, but I will put him down for you if you want me to.”

The idea occurred to her that Damien, somewhere, might be able to hear what she was saying. It also occurred to her what her mother would think, what Emily would think – what the equestrian world would think after losing Kasper. Most of all however, it occurred to her that she owed it to the horse not to quit on him after everything he’d done for her.
“No. Don’t put him down. Can you treat it to the point he might be able to move around comfortably?”
“Yes, but this is retirement for him. And he’ll be stable-bound for a long time Miss Torohnali – we’re talking upwards of six months.”
Six months – it wasn’t as bad as she’d been thinking. She had been imagining years.
“Do what you can.”

She hung up the phone and redialled Emily’s number – she answered before the first ring.
“Anna? What did you say?”
“He’s going to treat him. When he’s strong enough to travel we’ll take him back to M’Olympa. For now though he’s stuck. We all are.”

Damien didn't wake up for a number of days. As he dreamt, dwarfed by the sterile grey room, Anna couldn't help but think how he looked like a child, in need of protection. That stiff white sheet, tucked into the side of a mattress, seemed like a flag of surrender, and Anna couldn’t help but see the bitter irony in a jockey falling in a sport that he’d never intended on undertaking; especially when his colleagues died every year in his prior occupation. As the days passed, she found her place in the recliner chair by the head of his bed, finding moments of half sleep when she rested her head on her folded arms, on the edge of his mattress. She would wake up with nightmares soon enough though – the imagined sound and picture of horse and rider plummeting to mud startled her from sleep. Eventually the nurses realised that visiting hours didn’t apply to her, and so she got her own tray of hospital food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Most of it though, remained untouched.

She was resting on the edge of his bed, wide awake, trying to think about how long it would be before they all went home, when something stirred beside her. Something rested on her head, and she thought Emily had come. When she lifted her head, she saw Damien looking back at her – pale, skinny, but awake.
“What happened?”
“You fell. You both did.”
His brow furrowed as he tried to remember, “I remember he was going too fast. Where is he?” Anna took a moment to reply, “You didn’t put him down. You didn’t.”
“No, no,” Anna said, gripping his hand, “We didn’t. He um, has a fractured pedel bone.”
The recognition was clear on Damien’s face – he knew what that meant.
“So that’s it then. Retirement.”
Anna nodded, “You might be feeling a bit sore, too. The doctor said you had the extremity of concussion. You also have a crack in your collarbone.”
“Why am I not in a cast, then?”
Anna turned his hand over, and ran her finger over the lines in the palm, before he took her hand back in his.
“They said the crack wasn’t big enough for a cast to have any effect. You’re just going to have to be quite immobile and inactive for the next few months. They said when you wake up, they’ll put your arm in a sling. Speaking of which, I better go and get a nurse.”
As she rose to leave, Damien tightened his grip on her hand, and looked her in the eye. The was a fierceness in his face, but it wasn’t bravery – it was anger and fear.
“You were the one I looked for. I remember. When they were crowding around me. I looked for you.”
Anna smiled, avoiding his gaze, “I’ll be back.”

It was two months, one week and five days before Kasper was able to be transported back to Australia. When he was let into his stable, the Trakehner dropped his head low, whuffling at the straw, looking around at the parameters of his haven. Anna, Emily and Damien watched him walk around, smelling the air. After a few minutes he went to the very back corner of the stall, and looked back at his viewers – he knew exactly where he was, and Anna could see the relief and sanctuary in his big brown eyes.
“Good boy Kasper,” said Emily, shutting the stall door, “Good boy.” As Kasper dropped his head and went to sleep, Emily walked away crying.

It was a dark year for M’Olympa Estate. A few months after Kasper’s return, Alexandra Silk passed away on a windy afternoon in the back paddock, where she spent her retirement with Madonna. The red terror that had set up M’Olympa’s racing standard simply lay down next to her friend, went to sleep, and never woke up. Only two weeks after Alexandra died, Madonna, in the very same fashion, followed her. Most of their old horses – Rockbourne, Saraghina, L’uomo and Aureo had gone to new homes. Managhar and Perseverance and Skill were on trial at new stables. Autarkhos competed, here and there, but spelled in the second half of the year to avoid any possible stress injuries.

The only light was the group of yearlings that romped in the lower pastures. Summer and Zim, a bay and a greying out black would play fight in the summer days, while in the pasture over, the chestnut filly, full of promise, would nicker and whinny in wish that she could join their games. Occaisionally, on the days that Kasper felt strong, he would watch them – Anna wondered how much he recognised his Summer and Resurgam as his own, and if he felt as hopeful as she did when she watched them move. In the bright days, watching them at play, things didn’t feel quite so broken. Especially when Damien, grounded, would stay by her side, and hold her hand, when she let him. At night though, Anna stayed in her room.

At night, the only person she talked to was God.