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Description
For ` Anniversary
Wayra Wayne Pazzo and cameo of HARPG mustang mare Bitterweed as random bronco filly

Celebration in town is just a pretty picture, colorful facade, decorated with people`s joy and cheer. Even if in towns, such as Fort Collins, those jollities tend to be rather wild and loud in nature, they always have to hide something more sinister and dark.
When one people celebrate life and entertain themselves in bright crouds, others seek for bounty in the very same crowd, lurking thru people`s ocean like hungry sharks, ready to take a bite, for which they will be brave enough.
Wayra never thought that one day he`ll join sparse ranks of those scavengers, who are attracted to mass celebrations not with joyful expectation of cheer and good time, but with sole desire of easy profit. But mortals are weak and know nothing. Especially what the next day is about to bring.
Weather was mild, no burning evil sun above lad`s dark head. Sun`s rays were torn apart with chick large white clouds, slowly crawling above the town in endless sky. Lack of bright sun stayed completely unnoticed within the town. Even at noon Fort Collins was boiling and buzzing with preparations for celebrations. Overall excitement covered town, as chick foam over glass of good fresh beer. And it was so hard not to get infected with this joyful spirit. Even the lowest scum of riotous society got that gingerbred mood, turning dusty Fort Collins into pure merry land for one day.
It was hardly an hour past noon, and people already were entertained with rodeo and first horse races outside the town Each start was marked with loud gunshot. Sound of which was barely audible behind loud and zippy music and crowd`s voices.
The Horse, that yet still had no name and was called by Wayra just “The Horse”, was even less impressed then lad himself. For trusty war mount it was no different thing from crowded battlefield, drowning in blood and thunder of shooting firearms. After such experience street, full of people was not scary enough to get any attention from that silver long legged “pony”.
Some men, not too busy with celebration, followed this team with cool glances, pierced with unpleasant obvious suspicion. Horse was clearly of fine bloods, not your local working crock, tack was too good and expensive looking in comparison to rider`s rather lowly outfit.

Finally, our newcomer got affected by cheerful spirit of celebration. Partially, because of inner doubt and non-willingness to get to his own business in the light of the day, when people around were pretty sober and crowd itself was consist mostly of noble gentlemen with their families. Real wild celebration was yet to come with afterglow.
So, Wayra`s mind got troublefree with ease and very swiftly. He made his way to one of corals on the edge of town, where rodeo competition was held. Crowd, gathered around small fenced arena was extremely noisy. Men were yelling and shouting, cheering up contestants or showing their charging, using harsh words with no trace of hesitation and laughing, - as it seemed - always.
Sky cleared a bit, giving sun it`s open way. Wayra got no better idea of how to kill time, rather than take part in this very familiar fun.
His four-legged opponent was bay, sturdy filly with very grumpy face. She was obviously not happy about everything, happening around her, but more than that, filly was more, then ready to show anyone where cancers are spending their winter time. As soon as wooden gate opened, young horse began to buck as insane, hopping like grasshopper all over the place. There were only two plausible explanations - either filly was going to jump onto the very Moon or all four of her hooves and reddish butt were lavishly powdered with chili pepper. Whatever was the reason, but filly gave very impressive ride to Wayra before bucking him off to snack a bit on the dust. Just few seconds in reality, turned for both of them into eternity, that was not going to end. Thankfully, flight to the dusty ground broke that spell of time-perception. Young Pazzo could swear, he never saw a horse with such an amused face.
Time, spent in rodeo circle brought wonderful mood, several dollars, what promised nice dinner, and shirt, torn in shreds - thanks to fence-landing. The last one in list was not a pleasant fact, yet young man was not going to get upset about that. Instead, Wayra made temporary shoulder bag of it. Now he was really grateful to weather for being warm. Horisont was threatening town with dark, heavy clouds, but those were not moving anywhere closer to Fort Collins, just sitting there above the hills.

Firstly Wayra had no wish to take part in horse race, set around the town. But he`s horse seemed to be fresh and a bit too active and willing to go for the comfort of rider. Also, Pazzo, could not not to admit, that he was teased with curiosity about how fast his horse really is. He was going to sell her very soon, just to get rid of stolen property. Very beautiful, soft at gaits and easy to control, yet stolen and dangerous to keep, property. Anyway, why not to take part in the race? Maybe somebody will like her and might be willing to buy this young mare right at the place - at least that was what mind tried to tell Wayra. In spite of all these tries to convince himself, young man said quetly, stroking horse`s neck:
- If you`ll do good in this race, I`ll give you a name.
This celebration in unfamiliar town gave Wayra false feeling of safety. And with such impression came all not so pragmatic thoughts and ideas. As to keep this trophy horse to himself. At least for a little bit longer. Anyway he`ll need to travel somehow. And he`s Crow after all, no way he`ll travel by his own feet.
Heavy man with glitzy mustache and large creamy hat and grey long hair called participants to gather at invisible starting line. All horses, feeling their rider`s tension, got nervous and ready to run, snorting, prancing and bobbing their heads. pushing reins and staring wildly on neighbours.
Riders gave each other piercing estimating glances full of rivalry. In this medly crowd, Wayra noticed rider, that was looking oddly unfamiliar for this enviroment. New, fresh suit, that barely was in use, new attire with no signs of long use. Even his steed stood out from the crowd, Not bulky short stock horse, but slim, light built, long legged horse of odd color. Grey with reddish mane and strange red patches. Too bright to stay unnoticed by others. Air shattered with loud sound of gunshot - start signal for the race. Wayra`s horse began the run somewhere among the crowd, in ocean of constant dust. Horses were running dangerously close to each other, almost rubbing with shoulders.
When dusty fields came to an end, replaced with bushy little forest, situation changed completely. Mare got her pace, flying above logs, like swift little bird - with no effort, just as she was born to get over such obstacles. But she got absolutely no desire to step into small creek and just jumped over it, with no thought of slowing down. She was easy to control, yet it was obvious how strongly she leaned onto the reins, burning with desire to go faster. Her tail was set high in the air, as if she was pure arabian horse. And.. maybe she really was? Wayra has never seen an arabian horse before. The Horse got away from main crowd, getting closer and closer to leaders. Wayra, presaging easy victory, let his mare go at full speed, having no doubts about beating current leaders. Race went back to the town. Finish line was very close. Dun quarter horse just got behind Wayra, clearing the pass to absolute victory, but suddenly out of nowhere came that dandy man with his slim grey stallion. Team emerged from dust clouds as some evil spirit, as unstoppable train with no working breaks. Grey stallion was closing on Wayra`s mare, until he got neck to neck with her. And they ran into the street insync. Each horse trying to overdo another - with no success. They went on full speed without any cues from riders, puffing with pinned ears in terrible grudge. They crossed the finish line nose to nose, spoiling the race. Dust clouds managed to settle down long before next participants showed in the end of street.

After short conversation prize was splitted in two. Wayra could not say nothing about his opponent, but he, himself, was very pleased with how his mare did that race.
-Well… Great job, Mishon. Great job.
Young man patted his horse gently, before getting off from the saddle. Weather was not really hot, but pretty humid and stifing. Race made indian really thirsty. And one elderly and very merry man went close to him, congratulating him with good ride. And man charitably offered Wayra his canteen to drink. And lad made a large draught. And one second later he understood what a terrible mistake he`ve done. Canteen was full of ice-cold harsh loadon.

The rest of the evening disappeared in mist of great unknown. Wayra barely could remember, what he was doing that night, when he found himself at done in barn, near barrel with water and with piglet on rope leash. His hore was chewing on hay nearby, but in full tack. Wayra blinked once, twice, slowly, very slowly tossing his head.
Out of the fogged memory emerged scene with piglet chase. But why he has that piglet with him? Oh… He bet with actual owner of pigs, that he will catch this pink little beast not only faster, then anyone else, but in frame of set seconds… And, taking in account his current condition - he made it. He even remembered his greedy joy about that piglet - good dinner was guaranteed. But then something went wrong, because he took that piglet on a leash. He took his future food with him alive. And now, when this little creature was lying near in hay, he could understand - why. One thing - to hunt down animal in wilderness - and completely another - to kill off little funny all time smiling baby-pig. And if Wayra was more than capable of doing first, he absolutely could not go and do the second thing. Well, okay, maybe it was better to accept the pig-on-the-leash case, at least for now and leave it like that. Especially for there were more weird things, that deserved Wayra`s attention. To the saddle of his horse was attached suitcase. How he managed to attach it, Wayra could not tell now, as he was partially sober already, and aparently had no idea how to do that. More than that - Wayra knew perfectly - this suitcase was not his.
But pleasing memory gave him missing parts of puzzle immediately. Late at night, when all the town was dead drunk already, he got onto saloon`s second floor and broke in someone's apartment and… and stole that god damn suitcase. That was a bit too much even for Wayra, as for now he could not come up with good excuse for such an act. Yes, he really does need clothes, but how on earth he got dare and insane enough to sneak into saloon…
Head was dead with pain. He felt terribly sick right now and for now young man had only one desire - to die. And swiftly. He even had no wish to even try to figure out where is he now and does he owe anything for this night at barn, or he sneaked here in, just as in saloon last night? Too much questions and no answers. At least his horse was at place and nice barrel with cold water. Divine object that was able to ease his sufferings, caused by one sip of some unknown booze. Happy anniversary and arrival!

DETAILED COLOUR : Full body - $80 + BACKGROUNDS Shaded - +$40 = 120$
+ Literature = 338 $
= 338+120 = 458

Description
For ` Anniversary
Wayra Wayne Pazzo and cameo of HARPG mustang mare Bitterweed as random bronco filly

Celebration in town is just a pretty picture, colorful facade, decorated with people`s joy and cheer. Even if in towns, such as Fort Collins, those jollities tend to be rather wild and loud in nature, they always have to hide something more sinister and dark.
When one people celebrate life and entertain themselves in bright crouds, others seek for bounty in the very same crowd, lurking thru people`s ocean like hungry sharks, ready to take a bite, for which they will be brave enough.
Wayra never thought that one day he`ll join sparse ranks of those scavengers, who are attracted to mass celebrations not with joyful expectation of cheer and good time, but with sole desire of easy profit. But mortals are weak and know nothing. Especially what the next day is about to bring.
Weather was mild, no burning evil sun above lad`s dark head. Sun`s rays were torn apart with chick large white clouds, slowly crawling above the town in endless sky. Lack of bright sun stayed completely unnoticed within the town. Even at noon Fort Collins was boiling and buzzing with preparations for celebrations. Overall excitement covered town, as chick foam over glass of good fresh beer. And it was so hard not to get infected with this joyful spirit. Even the lowest scum of riotous society got that gingerbred mood, turning dusty Fort Collins into pure merry land for one day.
It was hardly an hour past noon, and people already were entertained with rodeo and first horse races outside the town Each start was marked with loud gunshot. Sound of which was barely audible behind loud and zippy music and crowd`s voices.
The Horse, that yet still had no name and was called by Wayra just “The Horse”, was even less impressed then lad himself. For trusty war mount it was no different thing from crowded battlefield, drowning in blood and thunder of shooting firearms. After such experience street, full of people was not scary enough to get any attention from that silver long legged “pony”.
Some men, not too busy with celebration, followed this team with cool glances, pierced with unpleasant obvious suspicion. Horse was clearly of fine bloods, not your local working crock, tack was too good and expensive looking in comparison to rider`s rather lowly outfit.

Finally, our newcomer got affected by cheerful spirit of celebration. Partially, because of inner doubt and non-willingness to get to his own business in the light of the day, when people around were pretty sober and crowd itself was consist mostly of noble gentlemen with their families. Real wild celebration was yet to come with afterglow.
So, Wayra`s mind got troublefree with ease and very swiftly. He made his way to one of corals on the edge of town, where rodeo competition was held. Crowd, gathered around small fenced arena was extremely noisy. Men were yelling and shouting, cheering up contestants or showing their charging, using harsh words with no trace of hesitation and laughing, - as it seemed - always.
Sky cleared a bit, giving sun it`s open way. Wayra got no better idea of how to kill time, rather than take part in this very familiar fun.
His four-legged opponent was bay, sturdy filly with very grumpy face. She was obviously not happy about everything, happening around her, but more than that, filly was more, then ready to show anyone where cancers are spending their winter time. As soon as wooden gate opened, young horse began to buck as insane, hopping like grasshopper all over the place. There were only two plausible explanations - either filly was going to jump onto the very Moon or all four of her hooves and reddish butt were lavishly powdered with chili pepper. Whatever was the reason, but filly gave very impressive ride to Wayra before bucking him off to snack a bit on the dust. Just few seconds in reality, turned for both of them into eternity, that was not going to end. Thankfully, flight to the dusty ground broke that spell of time-perception. Young Pazzo could swear, he never saw a horse with such an amused face.
Time, spent in rodeo circle brought wonderful mood, several dollars, what promised nice dinner, and shirt, torn in shreds - thanks to fence-landing. The last one in list was not a pleasant fact, yet young man was not going to get upset about that. Instead, Wayra made temporary shoulder bag of it. Now he was really grateful to weather for being warm. Horisont was threatening town with dark, heavy clouds, but those were not moving anywhere closer to Fort Collins, just sitting there above the hills.

Firstly Wayra had no wish to take part in horse race, set around the town. But he`s horse seemed to be fresh and a bit too active and willing to go for the comfort of rider. Also, Pazzo, could not not to admit, that he was teased with curiosity about how fast his horse really is. He was going to sell her very soon, just to get rid of stolen property. Very beautiful, soft at gaits and easy to control, yet stolen and dangerous to keep, property. Anyway, why not to take part in the race? Maybe somebody will like her and might be willing to buy this young mare right at the place - at least that was what mind tried to tell Wayra. In spite of all these tries to convince himself, young man said quetly, stroking horse`s neck:
- If you`ll do good in this race, I`ll give you a name.
This celebration in unfamiliar town gave Wayra false feeling of safety. And with such impression came all not so pragmatic thoughts and ideas. As to keep this trophy horse to himself. At least for a little bit longer. Anyway he`ll need to travel somehow. And he`s Crow after all, no way he`ll travel by his own feet.
Heavy man with glitzy mustache and large creamy hat and grey long hair called participants to gather at invisible starting line. All horses, feeling their rider`s tension, got nervous and ready to run, snorting, prancing and bobbing their heads. pushing reins and staring wildly on neighbours.
Riders gave each other piercing estimating glances full of rivalry. In this medly crowd, Wayra noticed rider, that was looking oddly unfamiliar for this enviroment. New, fresh suit, that barely was in use, new attire with no signs of long use. Even his steed stood out from the crowd, Not bulky short stock horse, but slim, light built, long legged horse of odd color. Grey with reddish mane and strange red patches. Too bright to stay unnoticed by others. Air shattered with loud sound of gunshot - start signal for the race. Wayra`s horse began the run somewhere among the crowd, in ocean of constant dust. Horses were running dangerously close to each other, almost rubbing with shoulders.
When dusty fields came to an end, replaced with bushy little forest, situation changed completely. Mare got her pace, flying above logs, like swift little bird - with no effort, just as she was born to get over such obstacles. But she got absolutely no desire to step into small creek and just jumped over it, with no thought of slowing down. She was easy to control, yet it was obvious how strongly she leaned onto the reins, burning with desire to go faster. Her tail was set high in the air, as if she was pure arabian horse. And.. maybe she really was? Wayra has never seen an arabian horse before. The Horse got away from main crowd, getting closer and closer to leaders. Wayra, presaging easy victory, let his mare go at full speed, having no doubts about beating current leaders. Race went back to the town. Finish line was very close. Dun quarter horse just got behind Wayra, clearing the pass to absolute victory, but suddenly out of nowhere came that dandy man with his slim grey stallion. Team emerged from dust clouds as some evil spirit, as unstoppable train with no working breaks. Grey stallion was closing on Wayra`s mare, until he got neck to neck with her. And they ran into the street insync. Each horse trying to overdo another - with no success. They went on full speed without any cues from riders, puffing with pinned ears in terrible grudge. They crossed the finish line nose to nose, spoiling the race. Dust clouds managed to settle down long before next participants showed in the end of street.

After short conversation prize was splitted in two. Wayra could not say nothing about his opponent, but he, himself, was very pleased with how his mare did that race.
-Well… Great job, Mishon. Great job.
Young man patted his horse gently, before getting off from the saddle. Weather was not really hot, but pretty humid and stifing. Race made indian really thirsty. And one elderly and very merry man went close to him, congratulating him with good ride. And man charitably offered Wayra his canteen to drink. And lad made a large draught. And one second later he understood what a terrible mistake he`ve done. Canteen was full of ice-cold harsh loadon.

The rest of the evening disappeared in mist of great unknown. Wayra barely could remember, what he was doing that night, when he found himself at done in barn, near barrel with water and with piglet on rope leash. His hore was chewing on hay nearby, but in full tack. Wayra blinked once, twice, slowly, very slowly tossing his head.
Out of the fogged memory emerged scene with piglet chase. But why he has that piglet with him? Oh… He bet with actual owner of pigs, that he will catch this pink little beast not only faster, then anyone else, but in frame of set seconds… And, taking in account his current condition - he made it. He even remembered his greedy joy about that piglet - good dinner was guaranteed. But then something went wrong, because he took that piglet on a leash. He took his future food with him alive. And now, when this little creature was lying near in hay, he could understand - why. One thing - to hunt down animal in wilderness - and completely another - to kill off little funny all time smiling baby-pig. And if Wayra was more than capable of doing first, he absolutely could not go and do the second thing. Well, okay, maybe it was better to accept the pig-on-the-leash case, at least for now and leave it like that. Especially for there were more weird things, that deserved Wayra`s attention. To the saddle of his horse was attached suitcase. How he managed to attach it, Wayra could not tell now, as he was partially sober already, and aparently had no idea how to do that. More than that - Wayra knew perfectly - this suitcase was not his.
But pleasing memory gave him missing parts of puzzle immediately. Late at night, when all the town was dead drunk already, he got onto saloon`s second floor and broke in someone's apartment and… and stole that god damn suitcase. That was a bit too much even for Wayra, as for now he could not come up with good excuse for such an act. Yes, he really does need clothes, but how on earth he got dare and insane enough to sneak into saloon…
Head was dead with pain. He felt terribly sick right now and for now young man had only one desire - to die. And swiftly. He even had no wish to even try to figure out where is he now and does he owe anything for this night at barn, or he sneaked here in, just as in saloon last night? Too much questions and no answers. At least his horse was at place and nice barrel with cold water. Divine object that was able to ease his sufferings, caused by one sip of some unknown booze. Happy anniversary and arrival!

DETAILED COLOUR : Full body - $80 + BACKGROUNDS Shaded - +$40 = 120$
+ Literature = 338 $
= 338+120 = 458