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Description

First Encounter

The morning was misty when he was awoke by the usual thumping of stalls. Hooves and boots knocking the old wood. Morning was breakfast. The same chow squares as always but this time he was greeted with few strips of delicious beef. His meal was light as next was track time.

He stomped his foot eagerly at the sight of Storen and Gron. The slender valeen smiled in return and unlatched the stall door. Holding up a halter before slipping it over the centaur’s shoulders.

“Ready for the day, Byorn?”

The centaur danced on his toes in excitement, yanking the lead in anticipation.

“Easy, we’ll get there, but you need tack first.”

Byorn snorted as he was moved to stand at a post. Storen gave him a quick brush before laying over the pad, followed by a thin training saddle. He sucked in his gut as the girth was secured. Bridle harness came next and Byorn outstretched his arms and lowered his shoulders to make it easier to buckle for the much shorter valeen.

He stood patient as Gron was lifted to the saddle. The little goblin weighed almost nothing as he settled into the seat. Stirrups clinking as boots found their way to them. Byorn huffed as Storen pulled the girth once more, just to be sure.

His toes danced again as the track came into view. Storen leading the way. The men held firm to the lead and reins as Byorn threatened to break free in his excitement. He loved nothing more than speeding down the track. Sand giving way to his hooves and wind wiping his mane. The moist morning fog was an added bonus as it made his snorts like the breaths of a dragon.

A gate came into view as Byorn lost some enthusiasm. Gate starting was his least favorite form of training. The tight space felt like it would confine his need to run forever.

“C’mon Byorn!” Gron gave him a light heel to his flanks as he circled the field. Flinging the sand as the gate was open like a maw. “Every time you act like you’ve never been in the gate!” Gron tried encouraging with a harder heel but Byorn was equally as stubborn.

Finally with a chuckle, Storen took hold of his bridle and lead him into the gate. Byorn obliged but just barely. Inside with the door shut on his rump Gron sighed and shifted into positon. Rolling the reins to a more appropriate length in his hands. He was used to Byron’s rocking in the gate but that didn’t make him any less annoyed.

“Focus Byorn, it’s your start that sucks.”

A ring and the doors opened with a thoom. Byorn as usual started clumsily. Taking far too long to find a stride. It was a quick sprint before he was slowed to a stop. Byorn kicked with his heels. Frustrated he couldn’t go over the backstretch.

“Cut it out.” Gron clenched his thighs and tightened the reins. “It’s gate day.”

He turned less than obediently back to the gate. All excitement gone from the morning as the prospect of running turned into repeating his starts with little improvement.

Gron needed to stretch his legs after what felt like the 100th start. Slipping off the saddle to walk him back to the gate by the reins. Byorn sighed but was relived in the moment to stretch as well. Both of them soaked in sweat as the cool mist of the morning turned into humid heat of midday. The saddle pad felt like a wet blanket and he wondered if Gron noticed the girth was loose again. As he debated bucking it off in protest of gate training Byorn caught a flash of blue.

He craned his neck for a better view. Hooves sliding to a stop earning a surprised oof from Gron as the reins yanked him to the ground.

“What the hell!”

He shouted now that he was covered in sand. The invasive grains sticking to his sweaty skin and clothes. Byorn didn’t even notice. His eyes fixed on another centaur. They were some distance away. Standing stock by the stable. A light wind told his nose they were a mare. Gron shouted more as he was drug by the reins until Byorn was stopped by the railing.

He called to the mare with a throaty gruff. Her ear flicked in his direction but she gave him nothing. Byorn stomped his heels as he wondered if the rail was low enough to jump when the reins were yanked with more insistence.

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a mare before!”

Not one like this! He wanted to say, or maybe it was just his instincts. She looked nothing like a racer. Shorter and stockier. Standing with the Owner and another man he didn’t know either. Completely refusing his attempts to gain her attention.

Description

First Encounter

The morning was misty when he was awoke by the usual thumping of stalls. Hooves and boots knocking the old wood. Morning was breakfast. The same chow squares as always but this time he was greeted with few strips of delicious beef. His meal was light as next was track time.

He stomped his foot eagerly at the sight of Storen and Gron. The slender valeen smiled in return and unlatched the stall door. Holding up a halter before slipping it over the centaur’s shoulders.

“Ready for the day, Byorn?”

The centaur danced on his toes in excitement, yanking the lead in anticipation.

“Easy, we’ll get there, but you need tack first.”

Byorn snorted as he was moved to stand at a post. Storen gave him a quick brush before laying over the pad, followed by a thin training saddle. He sucked in his gut as the girth was secured. Bridle harness came next and Byorn outstretched his arms and lowered his shoulders to make it easier to buckle for the much shorter valeen.

He stood patient as Gron was lifted to the saddle. The little goblin weighed almost nothing as he settled into the seat. Stirrups clinking as boots found their way to them. Byorn huffed as Storen pulled the girth once more, just to be sure.

His toes danced again as the track came into view. Storen leading the way. The men held firm to the lead and reins as Byorn threatened to break free in his excitement. He loved nothing more than speeding down the track. Sand giving way to his hooves and wind wiping his mane. The moist morning fog was an added bonus as it made his snorts like the breaths of a dragon.

A gate came into view as Byorn lost some enthusiasm. Gate starting was his least favorite form of training. The tight space felt like it would confine his need to run forever.

“C’mon Byorn!” Gron gave him a light heel to his flanks as he circled the field. Flinging the sand as the gate was open like a maw. “Every time you act like you’ve never been in the gate!” Gron tried encouraging with a harder heel but Byorn was equally as stubborn.

Finally with a chuckle, Storen took hold of his bridle and lead him into the gate. Byorn obliged but just barely. Inside with the door shut on his rump Gron sighed and shifted into positon. Rolling the reins to a more appropriate length in his hands. He was used to Byron’s rocking in the gate but that didn’t make him any less annoyed.

“Focus Byorn, it’s your start that sucks.”

A ring and the doors opened with a thoom. Byorn as usual started clumsily. Taking far too long to find a stride. It was a quick sprint before he was slowed to a stop. Byorn kicked with his heels. Frustrated he couldn’t go over the backstretch.

“Cut it out.” Gron clenched his thighs and tightened the reins. “It’s gate day.”

He turned less than obediently back to the gate. All excitement gone from the morning as the prospect of running turned into repeating his starts with little improvement.

Gron needed to stretch his legs after what felt like the 100th start. Slipping off the saddle to walk him back to the gate by the reins. Byorn sighed but was relived in the moment to stretch as well. Both of them soaked in sweat as the cool mist of the morning turned into humid heat of midday. The saddle pad felt like a wet blanket and he wondered if Gron noticed the girth was loose again. As he debated bucking it off in protest of gate training Byorn caught a flash of blue.

He craned his neck for a better view. Hooves sliding to a stop earning a surprised oof from Gron as the reins yanked him to the ground.

“What the hell!”

He shouted now that he was covered in sand. The invasive grains sticking to his sweaty skin and clothes. Byorn didn’t even notice. His eyes fixed on another centaur. They were some distance away. Standing stock by the stable. A light wind told his nose they were a mare. Gron shouted more as he was drug by the reins until Byorn was stopped by the railing.

He called to the mare with a throaty gruff. Her ear flicked in his direction but she gave him nothing. Byorn stomped his heels as he wondered if the rail was low enough to jump when the reins were yanked with more insistence.

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a mare before!”

Not one like this! He wanted to say, or maybe it was just his instincts. She looked nothing like a racer. Shorter and stockier. Standing with the Owner and another man he didn’t know either. Completely refusing his attempts to gain her attention.