Username: SerenWish
withName of Horse: Tied at Yoke "Strongheart"Number of Horse: 12
Your entry:On The Way
To the Office of Wander Home Stables...Annika scanned over the letters, having tossed aside the bills before settling into the mail for the stables. It seemed rather silly to have picked them up and just taken them along in the truck, as both Annika and Derek were headed out, and Seren wouldn't get them until the following week. But, such was life. Annika huffed as she eyed the letter of recognition, with something about the closed orders for the transfer of breedings rights for a few mares and a stud of WHS. She wasn't too worried about Seren getting the paper, as the assigned date wasn't until the following month. She was wondering what sort of stud would be offered to their pretty mares, when the truck cab shuddered. She ignored it at first, owing it to the backroad they were using, when startled by Derek suddenly striking the dashboard with a palm.
"What's wrong then, Mr. Hunter?" Annika's voice was rather dry and unamused, tough for a red-headed freckled lass with a loner's edge to her. She cocked a pale red brow at him, then looked out the window as the cab of the truck shuddered again, and the engine revved.
Derek Hunter ignored the simple question, and revved the engine again, then let his body grow slack as the truck didn't gain any ground. "I can't believe this...."
Annika hurriedly hopped out without asking again, and found herself half-up to her calves in mud.
Guess that answered her question. Her male companion joined her, pounding his palm against the blue truck's door. "All that rain last night... must have hit the valleys harder." Derek's brown hair was ruffled from his brief outburst of frustration, as he peered down at the tires lodged in the gooey mess of what was once a back road. Annika frowned in addition, and pulled herself from the sucking mud, checking on the horse trailer in the rear. A curious muzzle peeked through the high window on the side, and the wheels were thankfully free of mud. Still, with the truck's front wheels half-sunk in mud, they still weren't going anywhere. "And we have a tournament to be at! We need to set up by nightfall so we're ready to go in the morning. And you and Strongheart need more practice. A lot more practice."
"Hey!" The red head turned to glare at her brunette co-worker. "Not my fault that Kell got launched over a log. I told him that Galaxies wasn't feeling good."
Derek sighed and waved a hand. "I apologize for the outburst then. You're a fine jouster, for having just learned. But we need to get there by tonight, nonetheless."
Annika shrugged and pulled out her cell, which was, of course, out of battery. Just as the screen flickered and died, she looked up to Derek, who was frowning at his own screen. "No signal." This day just got better and better.
"So that means no tow-truck. What now? Can we push it out?"
Derek snorted and shook his head. "We don't even reach 300 pounds between us. How are we supposed to get a full-cab truck out of a few good inches of this slop?"
A snort came from the trailer, and the pale-skinned curious muzzle stuck its way through the window again, giving Annika a brief (and rare, some would say) moment of brilliant clarity. "Say....how much does Laddie weigh?"
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It took a few moments to dig through the tack stuffed in the trailer, to recover an old harness of Gallius's- and after much resizing and tightening, the large harness still seemed to dwarf the dark-coated stallion. His shiny silver mane was tucked up, as he peered around with his amber eyes. Derek's lips were pressed together in skepticism, but his hands worked diligently, until the draft-cross was tied to the truck's cab. Rather than risk losing a bumper, they tied it further back, and stepped back. "Well I suppose he was trained in some driving..."
"Of course. It's worth a shot." Annika's stubborn sort of fretful optimism shone through, as she clicked, waving the reins a bit as she stood to the side of the truck's path.
The stallion immediately dug in his hooves to the soft ground, tucking in his chin as his muscles rippled beneath his blue-hued coat. Derek snorted and jogged up into the cab, calling out. "He can slow down you know! I'm going to try to get the truck going, slowly, to see if we can get out." Annika bit her lip, eyes darting between the truck and the stud who was pulling stubbornly. His neck arched as he let out a soft snort, with the engine rumbling to life, and wheels began to spin, spraying mud all over the sides of the truck and the unfortunate pair outside the truck. Strongheart ignored the drops of slop, and strained to pull. A truck is far from a log, but this beast of burden would pull until his legs gave out. Annika felt her stomach drop some- maybe this was too much, and they should stop before he pushed himself too far. They could pull out of the competition.
But giving up wasn't Strongheart's style. And with that one extra piece of horsepower- (that made 261!)- somehow pulled them through. The truck found solid ground, and was pulled from the mud, releasing the tension on the harness, so the tough shorter horse cantered the last few strides before jerking to a halt, tossing his head with a whinny.
Annika breathed out a sigh of relief, shot a tired-looking Derek a grin, and hurried to clean off and reload their little power-engine, so they could get back on track.
The Following Morning- The Day of the Competition
After tending to Strongheart, Derek and Annika had both dropped into their respective beds, exhausted from their journey. But by seven, they were back out in the temporary paddock, tacking up Strongheart in the scuffed practice tack, as he finished off the last few wisps of hay.
"Hey you, you're not supposed to eat while we're tacking up! You had your breakfast." She scolded him good-naturedly, and gave his thick neck a pat. Giving her a innocent golden-eyed glance, the stallion snorted, nearly spraying her with spit. Ducking out of the path of drool, she finished tightening his cinch, and made sure he wasn't puffing out his stomach. Sliding on his bridle, she walked him away from Derek, who was devoting his morning to make sure all preparations were complete, as well as cleaning off the tack. He got the easier job physically, but at least she didn't have to deal with lines and papers. Annika wasn't meant for that. She was much happier seated in the saddle, jogging her dark-coated mount onto the practice field. There were a few others out training early- she could see a blue-coated appaloosa cantering in wide circles to warm up, and a cream-colored dun giving a few spirited bucks. Strongheart snorted, alerting his rider to his desire to do something more than walk. She shook her head and forced him to remain in pace, as she walked and jogged him in a simple warm-up. The rack of simple practice lances caught the corner of her eye a few times, and she felt her heart thud a bit harder. After a quarter-hour, she could no longer deny that it was time to get on practicing the main event. She turned Strongheart over to the rack, and pulled a shorter lance to her, and took a moment to prepare her seat, before turning him back to one of the long practice lanes set up. She saw that the lanes were rather damp-looking, and had a flashback to the muddy situation she had been in earlier. She groaned inwardly, but straightened her stance, and felt the stallion snap to attention beneath her.
He was excited before, but now he was rock-solid, brimming with inward power, like a fire roaring to life in a steam engine. She leaned forward slightly, gripping hard with the lance as she urged him into a charge- she meant to keep it to a fast canter, but there was no stopping him. They rocketed forward, his strong legs pulling them to a burst of speed unseen for his size, and it felt as though he truly was an "iron-horse", chugging across a plain. Annika's green eyes narrowed, watering a bit without a visor to protect her from the wind. He galloped down the slope, imagining some spectral challenger approaching him from the opposite side.
Unfortunately, they never reached that figment, as his rider was off-balance, and her practice lance caught on a wooden fence lining the path. The sudden knock made Annika's arm numb, as she grunted in time with her steed, and the two were sent careening in the soft soil. Strongheart whinnied, and clambered up from lying on his side, his side caked brown with mud. Hoofbeats could be heard as a few riders rushed over to check on the pair. A concerned voice rang in Annika's ears, as a doe-eyed young man leaned over in the saddle of the splashed white buckskin mare he rode. "Are you okay?"
Annika nodded, as her head ached in protest. Not only that, but her aching body was covered in mud. Mud. More mud. She was going to have nightmares about mud. She dragged herself up, and felt her cheeks glow red in embarrassment. That ugly, tomato red she hated so much. Strongheart, after showing proper interest in the pretty golden-coated mare over the fence, checked out his unlucky rider. He carefully sniffed her face and hair, and gave her a worried sort of fawning look.
She wobbled back across the field, leading Laddie back to a bench so she could re-mount. She was determined, mud or no mud, to keep practicing. After nearly an hour more of simple practice, without a lance, she grudingly returned to Derek, earning a raised-brow look. "Please don't ask."
It was time to dress up and prepare for their first match.
The Match
Annika hadn't eaten much for lunch, as their turn was drawn, and they were pitted against the first opponent. Derek had cleaned them both up, and, she had to admit, they probably looked pretty good in blue and royal purple. She had seen stags, falcolns, unicorns, and other wild beasts depicted on various crests, and she had felt a bit self-conscious of their simple ornament, the humble oxen. Now, after being coated in mud twice, she realized that nothing really suited Strongheart better. He was strong, dedicated, and humble. He wasn't flashy, but he was steady. He was still carrying her, despite all her worrying, after all. She tightened her grip on the reins as their number was called, and walked him over to their lane. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she carefully wound a strand of silver mane around her pinky as they steadied into place, as their competitor- decked out in black and gold, flashing in the sunlight- took their position. She let out a shaky breath, let go of his long mane, and lifted the striped lance to her side.
The crowd quieted, and their was a moment of silence, before a trumpet blasted. She needn't even give a command, as her steed took off, thundering down the track. She felt her body meld into his, with his confidence, and lifted the lance further, steadying to her side. She couldn't flinch from impact. She had to carry through. They were strong, determined. Strongheart wouldn't give up, like with the truck. He would never shy away, and she had to borrow some of that strength for herself. She had done plenty- Derek wouldn't trust this to a novice unless he thought she could do it. Her heart thudded with adrenaline, in time with his four-beat hooves hitting the ground, as the other pair grew closer. Suddenly, impact. Both lances hit home.
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Annika felt the gentle brush of a muzzle on her cheek, and looked up at her steed, who gave her that sweet, golden-eyed look. She gently stroked his face, and closed her eyes for the verdict of their escapades. The dusty pair stood shoulder-to-shoulder, as flags waved in the wind with celebration.
