[teresa8oats]

~I Want A Mustang~
Username: .Vetinater.
Number Between 1-10: 2

Username:
.Vetinater.
Name:

Breed:
Mustang
Color:
Chestnut Snowcap
Gender:
Mare

Their is only two appaloosas in this herd, so congrats! Her only foal is the other~ Press Here to see him.
From the looks of it she is about 7 years old.

[.Vetinater.]

GL's Golden Overture



"Finch"; That is the name on her stall door, but I nickname her "Finchie" on certain occasions~



Female; And quite the gorgeous mare indeed.



Approximately 7 years; 14.2 hh



Chestnut Snowcap; Mustang



Sire: N/A
Dam: N/A
Mate: A black Mustang stallion, but information is unavailable, as well as his whereabouts.
Offspring: "Flame"♂



Finch was born, raised, and rounded up in the Jackson Mountains, Nevada; along with the rest of her herd.


May Sullivan of Golden Lilac Stables

[.Vetinater.]

I jumped lightly out of the pickup truck and shut the passenger’s door with the softest thud I could manage. My friend, Aria, did the same to the driver’s door and trudged through the wet grass around to my side of the truck.

“Well, here we are!” she said in a hushed tone, watching me take a breath of the fresh morning air. “After all that driving, we’ve finally made it back to Golden Lilac Stables. I'm so glad to be back! My word… driving from Georgia and back up to Michigan isn’t quite my idea of a vacation. That’s the last time I pull off an all-nighter on the road for your sake. You’d better not be too cramped or tired, May Sullivan.” She teased, poking fun as I stretched my legs.

I smiled at Aria’s good-natured jest. “I hope the horse isn’t either.” I said, more seriously gesturing to the white trailer that was hooked up to our truck.

We had just backed the trailer up to a small fenced-in area, specifically set up for our arrival. This corral was strategically placed in one of our pastures, so as to be not too far away from the stables. Rare golden lilac clumps made a colorful addition the grass surrounding the area. The metal fences we had set solidly in the ground, and a few were secured with some worn rope. All of these fences were slightly taller than myself, to prevent a horse from jumping over, and the trailer was backed up to the very edge of the corral.

“I’ll go see how she’s doing, and see if I can calm her down a bit.” I said as I started making my way over to the side of the trailer. Aria nodded in return as she walked over to adjust some of the fences so the trailer could be opened later.

I marveled at how fair the weather was turning out to be. It was mid-July, and the sun was already shining brightly for being only late morning. Thankfully, this summer in Michigan wasn't as severely hot as the last year had been, and the heat wouldn't be too bad until late in the afternoon.

Reaching up to grip one of the side window-slits, I pulled myself up to stand on top of the trailer’s back tire and I peered inside. The lighting was somewhat dim, but it was easy to make out the large form of the Mustang mare. Her solid feet shifted back a step warily, and I saw her sleek head turn towards me in surprise. I waited a few moments, reading the slight fear in her stance, and I was careful not to make eye contact. As she started to feel more at ease with my presence, I mentally told myself to be calm. This would help us both greatly in confidence, and it was the way I worked with animals. Always be calm, relaxed, and never push them to do something they’re uncomfortable with. It all has to be gradual, and very carefully done. Everything I would do now would be dependent on what she would tell me, and I would take things at her own pace.

Slowly I crept my hand and arm into the trailer window, reaching inside for the lead rope that was attached to her halter. With little effort I found it, and I gently started reeling in her head towards me. At first she made some resistance, but I waited for her to calm down once again before luring her in more. I did this carefully, praising her in a quiet, soothing tone. Eventually she came within reaching distance, and I was able to gently touch her nose with the back of my hand. The first time she didn’t budge, but when I did it a second time she lifted her head sharply at my gesture, and pulled away. I waited another moment before reeling her in again, and then softly touched her nose for a quick second. Her reaction was positive -- similar to the first -- and she was still relaxed, so I let her be. Lowering the lead rope back into its place, I jumped down from my elevated position on the trailer. Then I brushed my hands off on my jeans and jogged through the grass to where Aria now stood.

“It’s all ready for action.” She said as I approached. Her long brown hair was now pulled back in a sleek pony-tail, and her hazel eyes sparkled with curiosity. “How's she doin'?"

“She seems all right; just a bit timid I think.” I replied. “I don’t blame her though; especially after all she’s gone through.”

“Yeah, you have your work cut out for you... It’s going to be difficult, but I know you’re up for the challenge.”
I couldn't tell if she was teasing this time, but as Aria handed me the trailer keys I stopped questioning her. She then patted me on the shoulder and started off back towards the stables, calling out over her shoulder, “Call me if you need anything - I'll have my cell with me. I’m going to go check on the horses and make sure that Jenna took good care of the place while we were gone. I’ll be back in a few hours!”

I waved casually in return, and then turned my attention back to the trailer. When I had reached the door in the back, I unlatched it and took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing… either she will bolt, or she’ll be too scared to come out.” I mused to myself.

I slowly swung the door out so that it was wide open. Inside the trailer still stood the chestnut mare, her pale blue eyes now illuminated by the sunshine. A white snowflake blanket extended heavily across her back and faded as it reached her withers. Some more white speckles started behind her left ear and drizzled down her face like a blaze. Her right ear was chestnut like the rest of her body, but her left ear was pure white - which was quite unique. She was truly a beautiful creation, even though she was splotched with dust and some dried mud.

The mare's ears were pricked forward with interest, but seconds later she snorted and took a step back. For a while she just stood there watching me, and I was thankful that she hadn’t bolted or done anything frantic. I took this opportunity to take some rope and secure the trailer door to one of the fences, so it wouldn’t move accidently. When I look up again at the Mustang, she took a deep breath and exhaled -- a sign of relaxation. Careful not to make eye contact, I reached forward into the trailer and grabbed her lead rope and let it hang loosely. With no visible reaction to this, I started the training.

Whenever she became relaxed I would walk over and gently touch her nose against the back of my hand, and then step away. While doing this, I would praise her, so she would get used to my voice. I repeated this cycle, each time trying to have her nose touch my hand for a few seconds longer. Soon I found myself able to run my fingers up her nose and over her forehead, without negative reaction from her. This was a big step in the right direction!

Next I set about trying to figure out if I could coax her from the trailer. I made a few clicking and kissing noises, but she didn't flinch and merely stared at me. Reaching through one of the metal fences, I plucked a handful of lush grass. It was still wet with morning dew, and I thought it felt refreshing. Reaching out toward the mare once again, I held out the grass, and she took all of it in one mouthful. I smiled to myself as the mare watched me still.

“Good, that’s good.” I praised. “Don’t worry; I’m not all that scary.”



As I walked toward the other side of the trailer, the Mustang mare surprised me by slowly stepping forward. I stopped in my tracks and watched her as her curiosity got the better of her. First the two front legs were down, and then all four, as she hopped off the trailer and into the fenced area. Immediately she put her head down to munch on another mouthful of grass, but noticing my presence once more, she trotted quickly for the other side of the circle. Slowly, using the same technique I used earlier, I reached my hand forward and played the little game of “tag” with her again. Each time her nose touched my hand, I would back away and take a few steps to the side. This spiked her curiosity every time and she eventually started to follow me around for another touch and more praise.

Time passed. Sweat was starting to bead across my forehead and I was beginning to regret my choice of clothing that day. Careful not to startle the new mare, I threw off the black hoodie I had been wearing. I didn't know exactly what time it was, but I speculated it had been at least two hours since we first arrived. I gave a gentle tug on the mare's halter and made a 'kissing' noise in gesture for her to come with me. That she did, and we both walked over to a large bucket of water. I praised her affectionately, and scratched her forehead.

"Now, this water is going to be super scary, but you can handle it." I assured her as I reached into the bucket. I wiggled my fingers in the cool water, making little splashing noises, but the Mustang didn't flinch. Encouraged by this, I scooped up a handful and held it to her lips. The mare sniffed curiously, but the water ran through my fingers before she could do anything else. She didn't seem interested or annoyed in the slightest, so I reached back down into the bucket and ran the water over my arms. The water trickled back into the black bucket, and I somewhat wished I could do the same to cool her off. That would have to wait for another day though. There was still no reaction to my experiment, so I dumped the bucket over, spilling all the water into the grassy enclosure. The chestnut mare took a quick step back and she lowered her head in interest, but raised it again shortly after the water dissipated into the earth.

"Good girl!" I praised enthusiastically, giving her a carrot chunk from my pocket. "You handled that one with flying colors!"

After a few more minutes of our little game of 'touch-tag', I waited until she was calm, and then walked over and stroked her face and nose. Seeing she was comfortable with this, I reached over and started rubbing her neck. I went back and forth from these two areas, gradually easing closer and closer to her withers and back. Every time she showed signs of being at ease, such as a deep breath or lipping and chewing, I would praise her. We were getting somewhere and she was starting to accept me!

I looked behind me after a while to find Aria walking back from the stables. She was apparently texting, and not looking where she was going, which almost caused her to trip. The Mustang mare saw my friend too, her ears pricked forward and she hesitantly sniffed the air. “Good girl, that’s good.” I praised once again, petting her neck. “Don’t be afraid, it’s all fine. She won't hurt you either.”

Just at that moment, Aria looked up from her cell phone and walked over to the fence.

“Wow, May! She's gorgeous, and it looks like you exceeded your goals for the day.” Aria complimented, looking from the mare to me.

“Yeah, she’s doing better than I expected, that’s for sure! I knew I would be getting a less finicky horse when I saw her at the auction, but I never thought she would have been this easy to work with.” I patted the mare's dusty side once again as I spoke. “Now all I need to do is walk her to the stables and get her some food and water. We all need some rest, and I’ll start back up with her tomorrow. We have a long few weeks ahead of us!” I said, grinning.

Just then the mare turned her attention to a finch resting on one of the fences. The finch chirped, hopping to the side a few paces as the horse cautiously approached the bird. To my mare's dismay, however, the finch nimbly flew away back up into the sky. Both Aria and I smiled and giggled at the Mustang's curious behavior. She would love life here.

Aria opened up one of the fences, and I started following her out of the circle. When I made a few clicking noises, the mare started following me like I wanted. Then all three of us started at a walk to the stables.

After a few minutes of quiet, I had an idea.

“Hey Aria, I think I know what to call our new arrival.” I said.

“And what’s that?”

“Finch. We should name her Finch.”

Aria chuckled and shook her head. “You and your unusual names…”

“Hey, you have to admit, it’s a fun name!” I prodded, hoping for some approval.

Aria snuck a look back at the chestnut mare before smiling back at me. “You’re creative, I’ll give you that. All right - Finch it is!”

~

Once I had led Finch into her new stable and given her all the necessities, I stood back to examine my work. The mare was now munching contentedly with her nose in a bucket of oats, her long mane drooping over her eyes and neck. I may have done so little with her the first day, but this was all something big and new for her. She had exceeded my expectations for the moment, and yet I knew there would be more tests to come before she could be considered “tame”. This Mustang was starting a whole new life, and I was going to teach her the ropes.

“You and I will get along quite fine, Finchie.” I said in a hushed tone, stroking her neck one last time before exiting the stall. I slid the stable door shut and hung her yellow lead rope on the handle. As I collected my belongings, I looked back into the stall to see Finch’s gaze fixed on me. Her crystal blue eyes were full of a new-found joy, and she didn't seem all that intimidating to me anymore.

“Welcome to your new home, girl.” I whispered.

~


-Finch is hesitant, but eager to learn
--She is not so easily spooked with water
--Exceeded expectations -- I'm able to touch her face, neck, and withers
--Finch seems to have a keen interest in anything edible (as most horses do!)
--My new mare seems like she's going to be easier to train than I had imagined..

[.Vetinater.]

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep!

I groaned as I rolled over and blindly smacked my nightstand, searching for the ‘snooze’ button on the alarm clock. “Why did those things have to be so monotone and annoying? Seriously, that’s the last thing I want to wake up to. Couldn’t they give you a ten second warning before blaring in your face?” I thought as I took a deep breath, attempting to wake up. My bedroom was still somewhat cold on account of my window being open all night, and I could tell, even with my eyes shut, that the sun was not yet peeking over the trees. Now lying on my back, I reluctantly let my eyes flutter open and I gazed at the ceiling. There was something about today… something that sparked an unrecognized excitement within my heart, but I couldn’t pinpoint it.

“I’m not showing Turtle today, so that’s not it.” I mumbled as I rubbed my still drooping eyelids. “No expected foals, farriers, vets…. Ugh, why can’t I remember?”

Rolling back over on my right side, I glared at the alarm clock. It read a little past 6:30AM, which was the usual time I woke up in the mornings.

“May Sullivan, think harder!” I grumbled. “We’re not expecting anyone special… Oh, wait…” Memories from the previous day whirled through my head. “Our new arrival – the Mustang! Finch!” I cried, springing out of my bed. Fresh adrenaline pulsed through my body as I scrambled through my wardrobe for some clothes. “How could I forget?”

After breakfast I hurried down the road to GL Stables. Thankfully my home was on the property next to it, so it didn’t take long. Before entering the stables, I passed Aria as she walked around the corner. She was hauling a large saddle over to one of the benches, and when she had set it down, she called after me in a cheerful tone. “Good morning, May. Did ya sleep well?”

I continued walking with a spring in my step as I called back, “Yeah, thanks. I just can’t wait to see Finch again!”

The long corridor of the stables had a cool, quiet breeze flowing through, and it was mostly empty, save a few tack boxes and feed buckets. Aria and I were the only ones at the stables this early in the morning. A few seconds after my reply to Aria had faded from my lips, a horse's head stuck out of one of the stall windows. His coat was a dark liver chestnut, and two curious ears poked out of his blonde mane. The large white star on his forehead gave away his identity as he whinnied to me. I made a small detour in my planned route as I skipped over to him.

“Well hello there, Mr. Turtle.” I laughed, stroking his nose affectionately. “How are you doin’? Curious about the new mare, huh?” I questioned as he lipped at my jacket strings.

Turtle was personally my favorite horse out of the few I owned. Despite being only two years old, he was turning to be a fine stallion. His Arabian sire had passed down the elegant build associated with his breed, but Turtle had the solid head and feet of his dam. His show name, Turtle Sundae, suits him in the fact that he loves to goof off and is spoiled. His charming personality entitles him to dozens of treats from the boarders, and he is just about the sweetest horse you could come by.

“Don’t worry, lil’ buddy, I’ll come by with your food in a bit.” I said, giving the two-year old horse’s forehead a quick kiss before I set off to my original destination.

When I reached the unmarked stall that belonged to Finch, I started unlatching the door. A second later I looked up to see Finch's ears pricked forward. She had heard me coming and talking to Turtle, no doubt recognizing my voice. I was glad for this attention from her, as I had almost expected cowering in a corner to be her initial reaction.

“Good morning, Finchie!” I greeted her. “How was your first night?”

Finch walked a few paces toward the door as I kept talking to her. “We’re gonna get some stuff done today, girl. Are ya ready? Trust me, you’ll learn a thing or two; but I’ll give you lots 'o treats in return.” She wasn’t as shy as I expected, and I took it as a good sign. Better an overly curious horse than one you have to grope at for attention. I slowly slid the door open so as not to make the rumbling noise intimidating. Finch snorted and took a step back anyway, but when I pulled a carrot out of my pocket, she timidly leaned over to receive the offering. I praised Finch and stroked her forehead as she munched on the treat, reminding her that I was not there to harm her.

After all of the horses were fed, I grabbed a soft brush and walked into Finch’s stall. I let her sniff me for a few minutes, as well as the new brush.

“I may not be able to get all of the dirt and grime off of you, but I can try to get you used to grooming. It’s very important, Finch.” I informed her as she sniffed the brush quizzically. Then I gently brushed her neck with a small swipe. She flinched and made an attempt to cower away, but my left hand gently gripped her halter.

“Easy, girl… I know it’s scary. Look.” I ran the brush down my grey jacket a few times as Finch observed. Then I moved the brush to her neck again and made a couple of swipes. To my delight she took a deep relaxed breath.

“Good girl!” I praised, stopping to run my hand up and down her forehead. After a few seconds of the pressure being released, I went back to brushing. Dust came off of her in big wispy puffs, and dried mud flaked off as I worked. First I did her neck on both sides, and then her face. With little change in reaction, I started gradually moving towards her withers and back. The farther I got away from her head, the more uneasy she became, and so I stopped there. I retreated the brush back to her neck for a few more swipes before stopping entirely, making a mental note to come back to that at a later date.

“At least I’ve gotten most of the mud off of your cute face!” I smiled.

After a few minutes of desensitizing Finch to her yellow halter and lead rope, I was able to put them on and entice her out of the stall. A few hours had passed since my arrival, and Golden Lilac Stables was becoming alive once more. While Aria was no where to be seen, a few of the boarders were just arriving, chatting, or taking care of their horses. Beside one of the tack boxes sat a large metal fan, but it was turned off and gathering dust. Next to it sat a small tabby cat, grooming himself lazily in the sunlight that streamed in through the open doors.

“I hope it’s not too hot outside today…” I mused as I looked around, still keeping an eye on Finch to my right. Her ears were swiveling back and forth as she took in all of the sights, sounds, and smells. I patted her neck in encouragement as I urged her to a walk down the stable hall.

“Heads up!” I warned in a loud voice. “Wild horse coming through! Give her some space.”

At my warning some of the boarders backed away or walked into another room to wait. A couple of the stalls were open and empty, while at the same time there were a few horses’ heads poking out of the stalls in curiosity – Turtle being one of them. I led Finch slowly, letting her sniff odds and ends that had been left out.

Soon, after lots of coaxing and exploring the inside of the stables, we exited to the outdoors. The sky was almost cloudless – the morning sun warming my pale skin. The rolling acres of grass and golden lilac patches were shrouded in a rising mist, as the world was becoming alive too. A butterfly fluttered past us as I led Finch into a large circular corral. The loose gravel crunched beneath both boot and hoof. I had grabbed a lunge rope on the way out, as well as a bag of apple slices for the occasion. I didn't know how far we'd get, or even if I'd need the lunge rope, but I knew that I would need the apple slices. The real training was about to start, and I needed to see what my new horse was made of.

I unhooked Finch from the lead rope and let her walk around the area while I got settled. Then I made a single kissing noise and waved where I wanted her to move. When she didn’t budge or wasn’t paying attention, I twirled the end of the lead rope in a small circle, driving her in a circle around the corral. She was startled for a little while, as I had been quite lenient in how I’d work with her, but now it was time to get serious. She needed to know who was in charge here, and who to run to when in need. I kept twirling the rope and made the kissing noise when she hesitated – to keep her at a constant trot. Whenever she looked at me or submitted to this, I praised her and eased off of the pressure. If she turned away from me though, becoming distracted by some noise or movement beyond, I would pressure her with the twirling rope again. The reason for my doing this was to get her to focus on me, in practice for lunge training. If she was easily distracted at a more advanced level, it would be hard to hold her at bay and quite possibly dangerous as well.

I did all this for 10 long minutes, and then I let Finch walk around for a little while to cool off.

“Good girl, Finchie. You’re starting to get the hang of all this.” I cooed. She responded to the release of pressure, I knew, and so I set the ropes on one of the fences and stepped into the circle once again. When Finch stopped in curiosity, I whistled and called her name. She seemed hesitant at first, but the minute I held out an apple slice, she walked over with eager interest. After a few minutes of her being calm, I moved on to some more touch-desensitizing, not unlike what I did the previous day. I started petting the face, neck and withers, as I knew she was comfortable with, but then started moving gradually to areas she less than preferred. I worked towards desensitizing her back and sides, which she did well with. Once I reached her rump though, she turned her head in a worried gesture, so I retreated back to her sides. After a few minutes of working with her legs, however, I was finally able to squeeze and pick up her hoof and leg for a few seconds. This was a big step for Finch, and I was greatly pleased with her progress.

“Look at you! I’ll be able to have a farrier work with you in no time… And here I thought I was only going to be able to touch you today.” I praised, stroking her forehead and neck. “I think that’s enough for one day.”

On my way back to the stables, I noticed Turtle in one of the pastures, along with his Appaloosa “uncle”, Royal. The two of them were happily grazing when Turtle suddenly spotted the mare, and he merrily trotted toward the nearest fence for a better look.

“Hey, bud!” I greeted enthusiastically, stopping a few feet away from the fence. “What’re you up to, huh?”

I looked back and forth as Turtle and Finch stared at each other from the distance. Turtle must have recognized her scent, for he decidedly threw his head and started bucking and prancing around the pasture. He was trying his best, in his young mind, to impress his new lady-friend!

I hopelessly tried to contain my laughter as I continued walking with Finch back down the path.

“Turtle, you’re such a goof-ball!” I teased after him, as he trotted back toward a skeptical Royal. Finch just carried on by my side, as if nothing had ever happened.

~

Evening came, and I trudged wearily down the road again, back to the stables. It felt like déjà vu, as I could see myself scampering down the road this morning full of excitement. Earlier that afternoon I had gone home to take a short nap and devour some dinner, and had also made an effort to work on my training plan for the next week. I didn’t get far in that, however, before I realized the time and decided to head back to the stables. I wanted to make sure both Finch and Turtle were comfortable for the night – and maybe clean up a few stalls before I left.

As I neared the stables, I heard the whinny of a horse. I thought it was no big deal until the same horse’s cries became more stressed and frequent – not a mere greeting, but a frantic neigh of a horse in trouble. I bolted and ran the rest of the way up the drive and walked quickly through the stables to the sound. The same large, silver fan I had noticed earlier that morning was humming loudly next to Finch’s stall. At the same time, the Mustang was clearly upset. Rearing and giving cries of distress, Finch’s eyes were wild with fright as I rushed over to the fan and unplugged it. The fan started to die down, but the Mustang mare still paced around her stall in an anxious state.

“Easy, Finch! It’s all right now, don’t fret. Shhhh, baby, it’s ok!” I pleaded. I carefully unlatched her stall door and slid it open a few inches, still imploring her to calm down. Just then, Aria trotted around the corner with a worried look on her face.

“May? What’s wrong? What happened?!” she demanded as she approached me.

“Someone put this big fan here in front of Finch’s stall.” I groaned, obviously displeased. “Just look at her – she’s all spooked because of that fan. It must remind her of those helicopters that rounded her and her herd up a few months ago… it's a very real fear for her.” I figured, gesturing through the crack in the door to the still frightened mare.

“Ah, poor thing.” Aria sighed, showing a somewhat rare sympathy. “I think most of the boarders knew about Finch’s arrival yesterday, but whoever did this clearly wasn’t thinking.”

“You can say that again.”

“Well, everyone besides us has gone home for the night, but I will go ask around tomorrow. Then we'll see what I can find out.” Aria assured me as she turned around and walked off.

After a few moments of quiet, I opened the stall door the rest of the way. Finch had clearly calmed down some more, but she was still on edge.

“Shhhh, easy girl.” I cooed as I slowly but indirectly approaching her side. I started stroking her neck soothingly and reached into my pocket for a small veggie-snack. Soon she was as fine as ever, licking and chewing in contentment. Exiting the stall, I cleaned everything up and headed back toward home.

“Whoever put that fan there, did that on purpose.” I murmured, bitterness penetrating my thoughts. "Nobody just accidentally places the massive stable fan, known for its loud noises, in front of a new horse’s stall. Ever. That, or it's some huge misunderstanding.” I swung my grey jacket over my shoulder as I climbed the stairs to my front door.

"Something's up, and I’m going to find out.”

~


-Although bold in some instances, Finch is more of a follow-the-leader type of horse
-She seems to be taking well to her new name(s)
-Finch loves to please, once she knows what you are asking of her
-Apples are possibly the new favorite treat!
-My Arabian mix, Turtle, seems to have a silly boyish interest in Finch xD
-Finch has a terrible fear of helicopters and fans

[.Vetinater.]

This morning I had arrived a little earlier at the stables than I had the previous day. Nobody was around then, so I had taken the opportunity to have some more quiet bonding time with Finch. After working on some more touch desensitization, I had been able to lead her around the stables and work on getting her used to various objects. I had walked her through a little tour of the rooms and hallways, and let her sniff noses with Turtle on the way out – giving the both of them a formal introduction. Finch had handled everything so well! So, after about an hour, I had decided to do some lunge training outdoors. I had led her to the same fenced-in area as the previous day, and that was where we were now.

With the lunge rope successfully attached to her halter, Finch was currently moving at a steady walk in a wide circle around me. We had been going over the same routine over and over again. Her ears swiveled back and forth as she listened to my noises and watched my gestures. I was working on getting her to understand when to move and when I wanted her to stop. This, I knew, is a very important command for a horse to know, and the earlier Finch learned it, the better.

“Ho…” I commanded as I stood still and held the rope taut. In response to my new behavior, Finch slowed and cautiously came to a stop.

“Good, Finchie!” I praised. I stroked her chestnut nose as she eagerly devoured a small carrot that I had withdrawn from my pocket. The white blaze that ran down her forehead was as bright as ever, now that I had brushed the crusted mud off of it this morning. She had let me brush down her entire body down with little resistance, and – if you excluded her back that was damp with sweat – she looked very clean indeed.

I made a single ‘kissing’ noise as I encouraged Finch to start walking again. Taking the hint, Finch obeyed, and I smiled at how fast she was picking this up. “Maybe I can push her a little further…” I thought. Giving way to another loop of the lunge rope, I looked up at Finch again and knew that I had her attention.

“Tr-ot!” I urged, making a double clucking noise. I broke this simple command into two syllables, for both clearer enunciation, and so that it was easier for the mare to distinguish.

“Finch, tr-ot!” I called again, twirling the loose-hanging end of the lunge rope for some added pressure.

It took her a few seconds to process what I was asking of her, but soon she was picking up her feet into a slow trot. “Good girl, you’re doing it!” I encouraged.

A minute passed as I watched the graceful mare work her way around the corral. Her long mane bounced with every stride and I marveled at how proudly she carried her head still. Soon I figured we had gone far enough for one day. The sun had already risen high into the sky, and sweat was dripping down my forehead. This made my blonde hair stick to the back of my neck, and I could only imagine how much more of a toll the heat was taking on the horse in front of me.

“Ho, Finch, ho…” I dragged out the last word for her to process, but Finch kept on trotting merrily. “Ho!” I commanded, this time more firm. Her ears swiveled to the side. She slowed to a walk, but it took her a few extra seconds to come to a complete stop. As I started to praise her for the obedience, however, she lay down in a thick pile of dry, dusty dirt. Then, to my astonishment, she started rolling over on her side and back. She was taking a dust bath!

I chuckled as I witnessed Finch’s merriment. She rolled back and forth until she was completely and utterly covered in the grey dirt. She stood up again with a quick snort, and finally shook herself off – producing a big cloud of dust that engulfed me. I both laughed and sputtered at the same time as I dusted myself off. My mirth almost completely ceased, however, when I witnessed Finch’s new appearance. Despite her efforts to rid herself of the dirt, it now clung to her back and sides that were lathered in sticky sweat. This Mustang that I had acutely admired a few minutes ago was now a complete mess, and all my hard work in cleaning her earlier this morning was for naught.

“Great, thanks Finch.” I said as I shook my head and smiled once more. “There’s only one way to take care of that… Guess who’s going to have her first real bath.”

Finch snorted again in reply as I started to lead her back towards the stables. It was now almost noon, and the sky was swirled with thin, wispy clouds. The temperature was starting to soar and I could tell even then that it was going to be very hot later. With this in mind, I was glad to reach the shade of the indoor stables. Finch, on the other hand, was oddly hesitant before entering the place, and it took a gentle tug on her halter to coax her inside.

“C’mon girl, we can’t put this off any longer. You really need a bath!” I said, as I led her into the showering room.

After tying her lead rope to a bar on the side wall, I retrieved a pair of scissors from a grooming bucket. Finch’s long mane and tail were quite dirty, indeed, but also mangled and long in length. It was going to be easier, and she would look cleaner, if I gave them a trim. So that was what I did. After combing them out, I very carefully left around seven inches of mane behind, so as not to cut it too short; and I only trimmed the tail an inch or two.

With this done, I grabbed the hose and let Finch sniff it. Her head jerked back as she eyed the long, snake-like object.
“It’s all good.” I cooed. Gently I started rubbing her dusty neck and side with the hose to desensitize her, which proved useful in the long-run. She didn’t seem to mind anything more until I let a small stream of water spray onto the floor. At this she lifted her head in surprise, but didn’t spook, so I praised her. Then I cupped my hand, filled it with water, and held it to her mouth. Not surprisingly, she lipped at my hand, but then lowered her head warily toward the hose. I took this chance to gently spray her hooves and legs, which she gradually warmed up to.

“Hmmm, Finch is fond of water.” I thought, smiling as she nipped at the stream coming from the hose. “Well then, she’ll most certainly enjoy this little adventure.”

The warm water streamed in little ribbons through her dusty hide as I moved the hose over her neck and back. Finch barely even budged. Praising her once again, I sprayed the rest of her down so that she was soaked. After I had secured myself a large bottle of soap, I slowly poured the thick liquid down the sides of her neck, back, and legs. Finch’s nostrils flared at the smell of the soap and she stepped back uneasily. Whispering a few words of encouragement and praise, I rubbed the soap into her neck, sides, and back, and soon I had her all lathered up.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well!” I mused as I reached for the hose again.

Soon Finch was rinsed clean, and I freshly realized the extent of her coat’s beauty. She was so neat and clean-cut now, looking not at all like the wild horse I bid on in the auction just days ago. Her snowflake blanket that speckled her chestnut back reminded me of a sight I saw once, while I was on vacation not long ago in Utah. With the beginning of winter closing upon it, the canyon there had been sprinkled with a fresh snow. It was so glorious to behold, and I had never forgotten the sight of it. There was just as stark a contrast between the orange rock and snow, as there was with Finch’s speckled coat. This made me proud to be working with a Mustang as beautiful as she.

“Good girl, Finchie!” I grinned, patting her sopping wet neck. “It’s not as bad as you might think. That was some big stuff!”

I then cheerfully untied her and the two of us walked out of the showering room. To my right I could see the indoor arena, and it was being thoroughly occupied. My mother stood in the center, giving directions as her six riding students on their horses trotted around the edges of the arena. My mother was an amazing trainer, as she had started training me to ride when I was quite young. Everything I knew about horses, including training, I owed to her. She never seemed to get angry or frustrated when someone would do things wrong, and I keenly admired the grace she owned when working with the younger students. I stopped to watch for a few minutes, but once my mother had noticed me, I gave her a quick wave and turned left – back towards my original destination.
As I made my way down the hall towards Finch’s stall, I noticed something I didn’t expect: A new horse was occupying one of the usually empty stalls.

“Hey, I wasn’t aware that we were accepting a new boarder…” I wondered quietly as my eyes searched for reason. I scanned the hallway for a familiar, or rather unfamiliar face, but there was nobody here. “Everyone’s probably out for lunch.” I figured, glancing at the silver watch around my wrist. Finch shifted uneasily, but I walked forward towards the stall anyway. I definitely couldn’t recognize the horse from where I was, and I needed to get closer. I pulled Finch to a halt as I noticed the paper taped to the stall door. It was the form for new boarders to fill out, and it normally contains the horse’s information and special instructions for the stable hands. Reaching my hand over, I lifted the paper into a readable distance.

With only a few of the many categories filled out, it read:

Show Name: KA’s Steely Storm
Breed: Wild American Mustang – Stallion
Special notes – Not to be handled, except for by myself.
- Jack Sharif
(7-11-2013)

I raised my eyebrows as I looked up to peer at the stallion inside. I was not prepared for what I saw. This stallion was by far the largest Mustang I had ever seen. Though sprinkled with dust and dirt, his sleek coat was as black as midnight. A thin irregular stripe drizzled down the right side of his forehead - ending before it reached the tip of his nose - and four bold socks adorned his solid feet. Both mane and tail were long and unkempt, but that wasn’t what mainly drew my attention. His eyes contained a fear that few could miss. This horse wasn’t just fearful of me as he cowered in the corner of the stall – he was completely terrified.

My eyes became soft and compassionate as I watched him, and I decided it would be best to leave him be. If the paper was true in saying that he was a wild Mustang, then I could understand his reaction; but now my curiosity was raised to a whole new level. Why was another horse, yet alone another wild Mustang, being boarded at Golden Lilac Stables without my knowing? And who did this Jack Sharif think he was?

~

Supper-time at home started out like any ordinary evening. Both of my parents were present at the table, as well as my younger sister, Lillian. We all worked at Golden Lilac Stables because my parents owned the place. The usual after-a-long-day-of-work routine was commencing as we were served our food. My father’s dark hair was sporting the windblown look as he took his seat at the head of the table. He was the big man at the stables, normally working in the fields or helping the financial business of the place. At the other head of the table now sat my mother, her blonde hair still tied up in a tight bun from riding. She also ran the stables, being my father’s constant helping hand, and a definite favorite of the boarders. Across from me sat the ever-spunky Lillian. She was almost the splitting-image of my mother, just in a young 13-year old form. Her two braids hung loosely over her shoulders, and the freckles on her nose made her look all the more like the tom-boy she was.

My mother had cooked a homemade meal we call “hamburger pie”, and though everyone else was eagerly devouring their food, I found my mind drifting elsewhere. I stole a quick glance at both of my parents. Why hadn’t they told me of this new Jack-guy yet? Did they think it should be a surprise, or had they just forgotten to tell me?

I stabbed a poor little piece of meat with my fork for the hundredth time as the question 'Why?' echoed through my head.

“May, what’s the matter? You’ve barely even eaten anything.” My mom spoke up, being the first to at least notice my untouched food. “I thought you’d be starving after working with Finch all day.”

“Yeah, is everything ok, sweetie?” My dad piped in. I saw Lillian out of the corner of my eye, glaring across the table at me with sudden interest.

“Well, sorta…” I said hesitantly, now setting my fork down completely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lillian pried.

I shot a glance across the table at her, hoping she would take the hint that this wasn’t her conversation to begin with. As I looked up at my father, however, I was reprimanded by a look that said ‘no funny ideas’. Everyone had stopped eating now, and they were staring at me. Even the family dog looked up from where she was lying on the floor.

With the pressure intensifying, I finally blurted, “How come I’m seemingly the last person on earth to learn of this new Jack-guy, who’s boarding his wild Mustang at our stables? I mean, is this some kind of joke? Why haven’t you guys said anything?!”

My mother exchanged an all-knowing look at my dad before turning to me, as I sat there with raised eyebrows.

“May, please try to be considerate. The man's proper name is Jack Sharif (pronounced shah-REEF), and you don’t know half the story yet.” She scolded, but I could tell she was holding back a smile. It was probably because of my expression of bewilderment. “We haven’t been trying to keep this from you, and we haven’t known of this tricky situation up until earlier this morning. Both Dad and I have been very busy with lessons and work that we just haven’t been able to catch up with you yet.”

“She’s right.” My father nodded. “We got a call from this Jack Sharif of Kellissor Acres, asking for immediate boarding of his horse. The barn he had his horses in caught on fire last night. Despite their best efforts to put the fire out, they deemed it hopeless, and it burnt down to the ground. All of the horses he owned were in there, but they were able to rescue them all before it was too late. This morning he was able to rent out a barn to keep most of his horses in temporarily, but he was hesitant about keeping his new Mustang in those cramped and stressing conditions. Instead he called our GL Stables for temporary boarding; and you very well know that we’ve had that one empty stall for about a month now. We’re the closest stables to his farm. I figured we could keep the Mustang here for a few days – at least until he gets a new barn or something.”

I listened with new interest as my father explained the situation, but soon I had zoned out into my own thoughts.

There was another Mustang at our stables now… and a stallion at that! I had my doubts about this Jack-guy, though. I had never heard of this Kellissor Acres he ran, let alone seen it; but I felt a tinge of compassion for the guy. It was only temporary, my dad had said, but I couldn’t help but wonder at how coincidental it all was.

“May, did you hear me?”

My mother’s question jolted me out of my musings. I gave her a look of sheepish uncertainty and wondered if I should answer. As if she understood, or for some motherly reason, she repeated herself.

“Mr. Sharif is in the same Mustang Makeover competition as you are. Maybe you can help him out with a few training tips. I’m sure you’ll see him tomorrow while you’re out with Finch. It's such a coincidence though: The odds of two people to be in the exact same competition, and from the exact same state in the USA, only a few miles apart. For these two people to be brought together to train and learn from each other. It’s so ironic, and yet it may have been meant to be!” Her face lit up with a curious excitement.

“You sound like someone who’s announcing a wedding engagement.” I said with a sarcastic air.

Lillian started giggling in the background as my mother tried to keep a straight face. “Hey, I’m serious, May! The guy has gone through a rough time. You can show him the ropes of the place, and maybe help him along where he needs it. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be his personal tour guide, but maybe show some kindness instead of viewing him as a potential opponent, hm?”

“Ok, sorry. I’ll try.” I sighed, with a smirk pulling at the corners of my mouth.

With my questions answered, I quietly turned my attention back to my dinner, which was getting cold. I didn’t know what I’d do with this ‘Mr. Sharif’ when I met him, but I did know that I had big things planned for Finch.

~


-Finch is starting to trust and respect me more and more
-She needs to work more on spoken commands, such as knowing when to stop
-Finch has a stubborn, yet playful side
-She has had her first major grooming session, including a bath and trim
-Again, Finch shows an amusing interest in water
-Jack Sharif is boarding a fellow Mustang stallion at our stables; and I wonder if Finch is familiar with the other Mustang?

[.Vetinater.]

"Finch, now I want you to stand here. Stay." I told the Mustang as I took a small step backwards. My foot landed softly in the thick pasture grass that was still covered with morning dew. I first glanced up at Aria who was leaning on a wooden fence not too far away, and then turned my attention back to the horse in front of me. Finch still stood there. I figured that she would listen, so I turned my back on her and walked a few more paces away.

I was suddenly caught off guard by a noise and I looked up again to see Aria snickering, "May, look, she's following you!"

As I turned around I was met by an ever-curious Finch, who had obviously not heeded my words. She was walking steadily behind me, just as a duckling would follow its mother.

"No, Finch. This isn't right – I told you to stay put, and not to follow me. Now, backup, silly.." I said. With a little effort I eventually pushed her backwards and into the same place she had stood a minute ago.

"She's not a dog, May. You can't possibly teach a horse to come on command like that -- at least not the way you're doing it. She's a wild horse, you know." Aria said with crossed arms and a matter-of-fact look on her face.

"I know she's not a dog." I retorted. "She's just puzzling it out. Finch is smarter than you think."

I then gently gripped Finch's halter and held her head still. Her ears were pricked forward and I could tell that her attention was focused.

"If I call you, then you will come to me." I said in a hushed voice, one that only the two of us could hear. "But if I bid you stand, I want you to stay. Now, Finch – stand."

I took one wary step backwards, then another, and another. Soon I had walked all the way to the great oak tree that was in the center of the pasture we were in. Leaves larger than my hands rustled above my head as I gazed at my two companions. Finch still stood alert, and Aria watched with curiosity.

"Come, Finch!" I finally called to the waiting mare. To my dismay, she still stood in place. Her ears were pricked forward with interest, but she didn't budge. I tried once more, but the results were still the same. Another quick look to the fence and Aria gave me the I-told-you-so look. I frowned but decided to try once more.

"You can come now, Finch!" I called and whistled a third time. "Come on, girl!"

That's when it clicked. With a toss of her head, Finch took off at a trot towards me. With each thud that her hooves made in the lush grass, my spirits would rise in a joyful sense of victory.

I stole a glance at Aria who now sat with raised eyebrows.

"No, not a dog.." I chuckled to myself. "But smarter than a dog. Finch is a Mustang."

~

My accomplishment with Finch put me in a good mood as I led her down the stable corridor that afternoon. I felt so certain that I could have her ready for the Mustang Makeover by the end of the 100 day mark, and little steps toward that goal always meant a lot to me. As an aspiring horse trainer, I soaked up every bit of information or knowledge that I could. Every accomplishment that I made with Finch felt like I was a step nearer to being more experienced. I hoped to be just like my parents one day. Maybe I would even take over ownership of Golden Lilac Stables – another dream of mine.

I scanned the hallway as I neared Finch's stall. I had passed a few regular boarders on my way in, but now the hallway was filling with a small group of younger people. I speculated that they had all freshly come back from a riding lesson, and they were chatting and laughing merrily as they walked. I didn't think much of them, but even as I tugged on her lead rope, Finch didn't follow. She slowed to a complete stop as she saw the kids coming our way. She shifted nervously, ears back, and her eyes glowed with a wild fear. For a moment I couldn't understand why she hesitated. They were just a bunch of kids, and weren't even moving that quickly. It wasn't as if Finch had never heard them or smelled them before either. They must have passed Finch's stall almost every day this week as they brought in their horses or helped with the feeding time.

"Woah, Finch. Take it easy." I urged.

Despite my pleadings with her to settle down, Finch started taking a few steps back. As she did this, she backed right into a trash bin, and the metal lid came down on the cement floor with a loud clang. That did it. Finch started to rear, turned around, and then galloped down the hall in sheer panic. I had tried to hold onto her lead rope, but when a horse spooks and bolts, it's almost impossible to stop them.

"Heads up! HEADS UP!" I cried frantically down the long corridor. All of the people in the hallway looked up in surprise at my warning, though few could react in enough time. Some dived into a nearby stable, while others shoved themselves against the nearest wall. Every movement and action that the people made added to the Mustang's terror. Even at her speed, however, I could tell that Finch was trying her best to dodge everything that stood in the way of her and the stables' exit. Thankfully, nobody was injured in Finch's panic. But though she made it outdoors, she still ran as fast as her legs would take her.

While all this was happening, I was almost frozen in terror. Initially I had started to run after her, but knowing that chasing Finch would only spook her more, I had been rooted to my spot ever since.

Now, with as much energy as I could muster in my shaky legs, I bolted down the hall to find the poor runaway. When I reached the outdoors I looked wildly to my left and right for any sign of Finch, hoping she had stopped not too far from the stables' entrance. There was no sign of her. Making a hasty decision, I turned right and sprinted down a lane that ran adjacent to one of the larger pastures.

"Oh, Finch, where are you?!" I groaned, my eyes still searching frantically for the Mustang. I would have been more calm if it was Turtle, Royal, or one of the other stable horses; but this was Finch. Only less than a month ago she had been as wild as a horse can be, and now she was running in fear for her life again. She wasn't just going to be unfamiliar with her surroundings – she was in a whole new world. I had to find her.

I came to a halt at the edge of the property and started to wonder if I should have gone the other direction. Just then I saw a movement to my left. Turning quickly, I beheld an unexpected sight. A bit far down the lane stood Finch. She was near an empty corral; but she was not alone. Stroking her forehead was a man I had never seen before. He was short in stature, fit, and seemed to be middle-aged. His dark olive skin and jet black hair portrayed a sort of Indian or Native American heritage, and his casual appearance of jeans and a loose shirt peaked my curiosity even more. What was he doing on our property, and how did he get Finch to calm down so quickly?

"Oh, Finch – thank goodness!" I said, completely out of breath as I trudged toward the two of them.

The man looked up at me and smiled warmly when I approached. He had a firm grip on Finch's halter, but she seemed perfectly at ease as if she had known this human all her life.

"Lost your horse?" He inquired as he handed me Finch's lead rope.

"Yes, thank you! She was spooked and I came looking for her, praying that she hadn't hurt herself or anything." I stroked Finch as I talked, and was dumbfounded at how calm she was, despite the incident.

"To be honest, I've never seen her calm down this quickly. How did she come to you, sir? And how did you calm her down so quickly? Finch normally doesn't trust anyone but me."

"This horse you call 'Finch' is wild, yes, but she is also a very good listener." The man's dark eyes seemed to dance with a quiet laughter at my confusion. "I was scouting out a good place to work with my horse, when I heard some commotion far away. I thought it was nothing until I saw this beautiful Mustang fly down the path towards me. I saw the fear in her eyes, and knew that she was spooked."

"You knew that she was a Mustang? How?" I cut in.

"She is different than any other horse I have seen at the stables." He replied simply. "Shorter stature, larger head, solid feet.." There was a small pause as he gazed for a moment at Finch, but then he continued as if I had never interrupted.

"As she ran towards me, I stood and outstretched my arms. This made a wall for her, and she stopped for fear of running me down. I then grabbed her halter and she started to calm down. To answer your question of how I calmed your horse that quickly: Let's just say that many people tell me I have a gift with horses."

I smiled at his last words. Gifted. Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn't. It didn't matter much at the moment though – Finch was safe.

"Well, thanks for your help!" I finally spoke up. It felt somewhat embarrassing that I had gotten myself into this predicament, and with a total stranger nonetheless. I had also succeeded in forgetting practically all of my manners. So, with a new determination to start things off on a better footing, I reached my hand forward in greeting.

"I'm May Sullivan."

"The name's Jack Sharif." He grinned, shaking my hand and not the least bit flustered or tense. "Your parents are the owners of this stables then?"

"You've guessed it." I smiled sheepishly. "And you're Jack Sharif – the one who owns that new Mustang stallion?"

Jack's eyes sparkled with a new enthusiasm. "Yes, I do own him. I am training him for the famous Mustang Makeover that will take place in Texas. You are training Finch for this same competition too, am I right?"

"Yeah, that's right." I said, patting my horse's side with pride. "Finch is turning out to be quite the even-tempered mare, and I think she'll make a fine horse. I just have to do some more desensitizing, obviously."

"I still have a long way to go with Storm." Jack chuckled, wiping his brow that was beading up with sweat. "I cannot force him to learn, but he will learn to trust me by the end of this time that we have. You will see."

"Yes, we will see." I mused to myself, with a slight competitive air. Then, thanking Jack again for his help, we parted ways.

~

Crickets chirped with a rhythmic persistence as Finch and I stood on the edge of a large pasture. Evening had come and the sun was coating the world with her last golden rays. A cool breeze now wove its way through the lush grass that surrounded us. It felt refreshing to have a few moments of quiet in the evening sunset, especially after a long day of training. The scene seemed very surreal and calm, and I figured that Finch felt the same way too as she took a deep breath of contentment.

For around an hour now I had been working with Finch and her sensitivity to touch. She was a lot calmer than she had been a few days ago, and I was pleased with her progress. I was becoming able to touch her back and legs with ease. Now I was going to take things a step further.

Placing both of my hands on her withers, I started lightly jumping up and down beside the mare, each time placing the least bit of my weight on her back. Finch’s ears turned towards me as she tried to figure out my motives for this odd behavior, but I was glad for her seemingly calm response. She stood perfectly still and tolerated my every move. This made me thankful that she had given me the gift of her trust – especially since she had been a wild horse only weeks ago. When she had again demonstrated some sign of relaxation, I stopped bouncing and patted her neck.

“Good girl, Finchie. That’s a step in the right direction. The question is, however, are you going to be okay with me putting my entire weight on your back?”

I didn’t expect a response, but simply placed my hands back on her withers and repeated the jumping. A few seconds after I had started, however, I heard the clip-clopping of hooves. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the movement of a horse and rider along the fence line; but I completed the second cycle of training before turning around. On the other side of the fence, only a few feet away, was my younger sister, Lillian. She was sitting atop her light-chestnut Appaloosa whom she had nicknamed Royal. When she saw that I had noticed her, Lillian pulled her horse to a stop.

“Hey, sis!” She waved with a bright smile. “Are you gonna ride Finch today?”

I watched Finch’s head turned to inspect the new visitors, although she had seen the two of them plenty of times the past few days. Lillian and Royal were the most regular pair at the stables besides Turtle and I; but Finch only stared at them with an apprehensive glare. Despite my confidence in her, this Mustang mare trusted no one but me. At least, that was what I had thought until the spooking incident earlier.

Shaking my head and shrugging, I replied, “I don’t know, Lil. I can’t push her too far, but I will definitely try to mount her today.”

Lillian quickly dismounted as I spoke and then climbed up to sit on the edge of the wooden fence.

“Well, if you’re gonna do that, then I’m gonna watch.” She said once she was comfortable.

“You sure? It might be a while, and it might not happen.”

“I’m sure!” Lillian said with a determined air. “Plus, if I get bored, I have Royal with me.” The stallion behind her snorted as if in affirmation to what she had just said.

With another quick shrug I turned my attention back to Finch. She seemed relatively calm, and so I took the opportunity. After another round of light bouncing, I finally was able to jump up and lean my entire weight on her back. Slightly surprised at this new action, Finch started walking forward and spinning in a few shaky circles. I silently held on, both waiting for the mare to relax and praying that she wouldn't do anything crazy. Thankfully, after a few moments of confusion, she slowed to a stop. I then slipped off, releasing the pressure with a sense of accomplishment.

“That was some big stuff, Finch!” I praised as I ruffled the forelock of mane that ran between her bi-colored ears. “Now let’s do it again.”

Each time I did this maneuver, Finch became more and more comfortable with the idea.

“All right, girl.” I whispered as I ran my hand down her smooth neck and towards her withers. “Time for the real stuff.”

Mustering a bit more determination, I reached up and hopped on her back once again. This time I slowly swung my leg over. Finch stood awkwardly still as I hesitantly crept into a sitting position on her back. A thousand thoughts whirled through my mind during those few moments, and I desperately hoped that she wouldn’t start bucking. I shot a quick glance at Lillian, who was perched on the fence with a look of pure suspense. I waited, but the bucking never came. Finch didn’t budge – in fact she hardly even moved a muscle. A broad smile spread across my face, as well as Lillian’s. We had reached a milestone.

I gently leaned down and started scratching the Mustang’s neck in praise. “Yes, Finch! You did it!”

My heart felt like bursting with pure elation, and every fiber in my being wished to spread my arms and shout for joy. I couldn't do this for fear of startling Finch, but that's beside the point. I was sitting atop a once-wild Mustang, and at that moment, I felt like I was on top of the world.

~


-Finch has discovered that she may come when called
-This Mustang is very witty, and can work out puzzling circumstances with ease
-Finch has started to respect one other person besides myself... though I do not know how this will work out.
-Finch seems to be enjoying the somewhat cooler weather here in Michigan
-I think I may have confirmed Finch's favoritism of apples -- she LOVES apples.
-I'm finally able to mount Finch and ride her around the pasture at a walk; but she needs more guidance and practice when it comes to directions!

[.Vetinater.]

“Unbelievable…” I murmured, shielding my eyes with my hand as I gazed beyond the training arena. The objects of my sudden interest were twofold, one being a man, and the other his jet-black Mustang upon which he now rode. They were trotting steadily within a small round pen, tens of yards away from the edge of the paddock where I now stood. Riding tack was absent on the Mustang stallion, save a sturdy lead rope that was wrapped loosely around his neck and bounced lightly with every stride. The rider, Jack Sharif, gave the slightest tug or tap every so often to keep the horse moving. At the same time, he sat relaxed and confident upon the stallion’s bare back.

I shook my head in disbelief. A casual passerby might have assumed the twosome life-long friends, but I knew better. A quiet anger was now pulsing through my veins. Some would have called it pride, or even a tinge of covetousness; but my stomach felt hot and bubbly all the same. Jack had barely known his Mustang for two days, and yet now he was riding this horse bareback. Every command, flick, touch, sound, and movement was being followed almost without flaw; and the Mustang he rode upon was a stallion no less! I knew I was witnessing a rare and incredible moment, but what should have been awe was now polluted with envy. How could he come so far with his Mustang, while it was taking me almost an entire week to get Finch to let me so much as sit upon her back? This Jack Sharif was impressive, and he seemed to be leaving my hard work in the dust.

Suddenly, I felt a hard nudge against my back, almost making me trip forward. Turning around I beheld Finch. Her ears were pricked forward and she seemed to plead for attention with her pale blue eyes.

Letting out a somewhat relieved sigh, I smiled.

“I’m sorry, Finch. I guess I shouldn’t compare too much… We’ve got it better than some people – even if that somebody isn’t Mr. Sharif.”

I stroked my horse’s forehead as I pondered my next move. Finch and I had started our morning as usual: I had introduced her to miscellaneous objects around the barn, groomed her, worked on lunge training, and even accomplished some more touch desensitization. I had taken advantage of the milder weather by working with Finch outside. As I was getting ready to head back to the stables, however, my attention had been captured by Jack and his Mustang; and that was where we were now. I was envious of Jack, to be honest. I also knew that those thoughts needed to be dismissed as soon as possible.

“Now that you’re able to haul lil’ ol’ me around on your back, maybe we can have a bit of fun to lighten the mood. I know that I need something to take my mind off of the competition. Therefore, Finch…. I propose that we take a trail ride together.” And with that I gently mounted her, swinging my leg over her back. I had tied her lead rope twice around her neck, so as to give me something to hold onto in case of steering and possible emergencies. The only other item that adorned Finch was her usual yellow halter. Mr. Sharif and I were alike in not wanting to introduce our Mustangs to serious tack right away. I figured this was one of the only similarities in our training routines though. Since Finch had shown discomfort to whips and the like from day one, I had been careful to take things at her own pace. She would decide when she was ready for a bridle or saddle. I would not push her farther than she could take. All of the serious tack would have to wait, and I still had yet to find out what kind of tack that would be anyway.

Gently tapping her sides with my heels, and with a bit of coaxing, I finally walked Finch out of the open paddock and down a stone pathway. This crude road was going to take us to the edge of Golden Lilac Stables’ property. A few yards south of where the path ended, there was a deer trail, and I knew that Finch would enjoy the little expedition through the dense forest that bordered the land. It was going to be a welcome change of scenery.

I had no idea of how right I was in making that decision. The trail ride was a welcome respite for the both of us. Not only was I able to formally introduce Finch to some of the nature and wildlife of Michigan, but I was also able to quiet my fears and set my mind on more productive matters. We still hadn’t found out who had placed the big fan in front of Finch’s stable the second day she was here. Even though most had forgotten the incident with ease, Finch’s cries of distress still echoed through my mind. It wasn’t that I wanted revenge on the conspirator – I wasn’t that paranoid. But given recent circumstances, I didn’t want it to happen again. For all I knew, it could have been a forgetful visitor at the stables; but the knowledge of who it wasn’t bugged me the most. Everyone that Aria and I asked at the stables had denied using or even touching the stable fan. It was true that the possibilities had been narrowed down; but I had other suspicions as well. I still didn’t fully trust this Mr. Sharif. The odds were still against him. He was in the same competition as me. I had only recently been introduced to him, not in the most preferable way, and his queer ways and fast progress with his Mustang hardly set my mind at ease.

I started to push these thoughts farther and farther away from my mind as I rode Finch onward through some thicker brush. Twigs and small branches clawed at my blue shirt as I ducked under an archway of brambles that a deer had tunneled out. Finch navigated this with ease, despite my uncomfortable tangles with the brush, and soon we exited into a vast clearing that I had never seen before. Large boulders were scattered here and there amongst the thick grass and brush as if some giant had tossed them there forgetfully. All other familiar noises pertaining to humanity were gone and replaced with bird songs and the rustle of leaves. Finch’s hooves made light thuds as she waded through the lush grass. A lingering cricket or two chirped in harmony as we rode, making the atmosphere feel all the more wonderful.

Finch paused abruptly as something rustled in the grass a few feet ahead. Knowing that she could bolt or spook at any time, I readied myself both mentally and physically. I couldn't allow any fear or uncertainty into my mind or actions, as I knew that Finch would feed off of my every move. If I was afraid, she would be as well.

“Good girl, Finchie.” I said, voicing an exaggerated confidence. “There’s nothing to be afraid of here.”

Finch took an uneasy step back and then stood still. Out of the grass there hopped a single baby bunny, still damp from the morning dew and yet very adorable otherwise. Finch quickly jerked her head back for a second, but seeing the innocent creature harmless, she lowered her head towards it. The baby bunny froze as Finch sniffed around in curiosity. I almost laughed out loud at the spectacle.

Then, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the tiny bunny took off across the field and headed for some nearby brush. Finch lifted her head and watched the little critter disappear again, as if she had somehow known exactly why the bunny had to leave.

“You’re such a sweetie, Finch.” I praised her. And I meant it. Finch may not be good at some things, but she was compassionate at heart.

I made a mental note to myself to return to this place some other day when I wasn’t so pressed for time. Lunch was soon, and I knew Finch was growing somewhat weary from all the training I had accomplished with her today. So, with a few clicks, I urged the mare to turn and we started retracing our steps.

The noonday sun’s rays were weakening as hazy clouds began to fill the sky. I had recalled someone mentioning an overcast weather report a few days ago, and with all the intense heat of the past few days, the change was thoroughly enjoyed. I’m sure Finch felt the same way. For once her back wasn’t lathered in sweat, for which I was thankful, and her breathing was relaxed and steady. I, too, felt contented with our little expedition. It was not just another round of new discoveries, but also another building block for my foundation of trust with Finch.

I rode Finch back up the familiar pathway that ran up to the stables, but as I reached the entrance, I noticed that I was being followed. With one quick look behind me, I saw that Jack Sharif was not far behind. He was still riding Storm, and both man and Mustang looked like they were thoroughly enjoying themselves despite their hard work from earlier.

“Oh great.” I thought with a tinge of nervousness. Without waiting for my command, Finch turned about to face the pair of newcomers. She didn’t show any signs of discomfort, and to my relief neither did Storm, the approaching stallion. I knew Finch had not been around any other horses recently, let alone another of her own breed, and I was somewhat on edge of what her reaction would be.

“So we meet again, Miss May.” Jack smiled and nodded in an unusual respect as he pulled Storm to a halt. “I see you’ve made progress with your mare.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sharif.” I replied, not wanting to seem impolite. Before I could add in another word or thought, Finch and Storm approached each other with an unusual interest.

“Whoa, Storm!” Jack pulled back on the stallion’s rope, but it was too late. Jack and I exchanged somewhat worried glances for a quick second before turning back to observe the two horses. Storm seemed the most curious as he reached his head forward to sniff noses with Finch. My mare flinched slightly at his gesture but then remained calm and let the stallion come close to her. After around a minute, and to my surprise, they both started grooming the other, even with Jack and me still on their backs! I watched with awe as each accepted the other with an uncanny willingness.

“I don’t believe it.” Jack whispered with a sense of awe. “These two know each other from somewhere.”

I managed a slight nod at his statement, even though I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the reality. “But they’re both too close in age to be mare and colt.” I thought aloud.

“This is true, but that’s not what I was thinking.”

I furrowed my brow as I considered the other possibilities. “Do you know where Storm and his herd were rounded up?” I asked.

“Jackson Mountains.” He replied.

“That’s where Finch was rounded up too!”

“Then they must know each other…” Jack murmured, stroking his chin in thought as the two Mustangs carried on with their grooming. “They share a close bond; and there is only one bond so close as this, between a grown stallion and mare.”

I looked up with sudden realization. “You’re saying that Finch is possibly one of Storm’s mares?”

“I am almost sure of it. Just look at them. Storm doesn’t act that way around any other horse at my barn – including the other mares.”

I shook my head in disbelief, but still sat gazing down at the couple. Finch and Storm. Two almost completely different horses in personality and form, and yet they had somehow found each other again after all that had happened. It was like something you would read out of a fairytale. But this was reality.

Hardly being able to contain my amazement, I reached down and patted Finch’s sleek neck. “Well, I am glad that Finch finally has someone else to relate to, mate or no. I guess we may never know for sure, but it's quite the interesting discovery.”

Jack thoughtfully smiled and urged Storm to walk alongside Finch and I. After stabling both of our horses, Jack and I parted ways for the rest of the day.

As I was bedding Finch down that night, a hundred thoughts seemed to whirl through my head. Now I wasn’t sure what to think of Jack Sharif. He seemed innocent and gentleman-like when I spoke with him, and hardly looked like he was keeping a secret. At the same time there was something mysterious about him. They way he watched me betrayed a sadness in his quiet eyes, or so I thought. He was kind and polite, but he only said what he thought was needful and nothing more. This wasn’t necessarily a negative quality. It just seemed that there was more than I could ever know tightly bound up in this man, and he didn’t look like he was the least bit ready to tell me of it.

I shook my head as I tried to focus on a new topic, and found myself gazing at Finch who stood no more than a yard away in her stall. “I wonder what her life was like before she was rounded up.” I thought to myself. Before I had bid on her at the auction down in Georgia, I had examined her papers. They had stated that she was known to have had at least one foal, which had now grown into a sturdy dark bay stallion. I hadn't seen him at the auction, but then again neither had I seen Storm. I didn't know if I should believe Jack that Finch was one of Storm’s mares, but at the same time I didn't have any evidence against the matter. Either way, Finch had been torn away from a close-knit family. She had a colt somewhere out there, and she had been torn away from him too. Finch and her herd had been loaded up in crowded trailers, taken to confusing auctions, and forced into a whole new world. Now she had a new home, new friends, and new family; and I was determined to make her as much family as anything.

~


-Finch is starting to recognize the commands: "Tr-rot", "Walk", and "Ho" more often.
-A paper bag that contained sliced apples disappeared this morning.. I think Finch ate them, because all I found left were shreds of paper.
-I am now able to slowly and carefully mount her without major reaction
-Finch really enjoys being brushed now
-Finch is becoming more familiar with the nature and wildlife here in Michigan. She has taken particular liking to the smaller critters.
-Storm and Finch share an unusually close bond.. could they be mates?

[.Vetinater.]

“Gosh darn it, Finch. Where on earth did I put your halter and lead rope?” I questioned for the fourth time, still to no avail. I made another thorough effort to dig through Finch’s tack box as she curiously watched me across the hall, her chestnut head leaning over the stall window. I finally threw my hands up in exasperation.

“Well, that’s it. I’m hopeless.” I sighed as I trudged over to Finch. As I reached her stall I grabbed a dull work rope from a hook on the wall.

“We’ll just have to use this other rope here, and I’ll try riding you halter-less tonight. No funny ideas though, or else I’m calling it a day.” I said.

Finch seemed to nod her head in agreement to the unexpected freedom, and I tussled the forelock of her mane for a quick second before opening her stall door. I then gave her a quick brushing and equipped her neck with the rope, which I tied once around her neck, leaving a longer loose end just in case I needed it. Now it appeared as if someone had tossed a thick lasso rope around her neck, but the Mustang mare didn’t seem to mind her new look.

“Now you had better behave, Finchie.” I told the mare with a hint of skepticism in my voice. Finch only snorted in reply as she followed me down the long stable corridor and into the outdoors.

The golden sun was low in the horizon, signaling that the last hours before sunset were neigh. This evening was not particularly cloudless, as a growing dark veil was growing in the east, just beyond the reaches of the sun’s rays. Rain. I was almost grateful as I glared up at the accumulation. Rain meant cooler weather – and that was exactly what I wished for lately, as the intense heat of the past few weeks had been a little too much for my taste.

“Hey, Sis! Over here!” Lillian called to me, a few yards down the path. She was leaning against one of the pasture fences and stroking the back of her horse, Royal, as he grazed on the other side. Next to Lillian stood both Aria and… Jack Sharif. Of course he had to be there. I started secretly hoping nobody would notice Finch’s lack of some real tack, as it made me feel slightly foolish. Even though I gave a slight wave to Lillian in return, an odd sense of uneasiness swept over me as I walked towards the group. I couldn’t quite figure out the reason for this, besides Finch, but I headed over to them, against my better mind. As I halted, both Aria and Jack had turned about to face me. They had obviously been caught off guard by Lillian’s call, and now that their curiosity was satisfied, the two of them now joined in my younger sister’s radiant smile with that of their own.

“Good afternoon to Michigan’s best Mustang tamer!” Aria hailed me, with a few chuckles running through the group. “And what brings us the honor of being in such a lady’s presence?”

My previous feelings of regret now faded away as a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. How Aria liked to tease, and she almost always knew what buttons to push to make my day better.

“Oh, I’m not up to much. I’m about to go on another trail ride with Finch, before all this rain hits.” I said, lifting my eyes once again to the clouds that loomed ever closer.

Aria brushed some wisps of her dark hair out of her face as the wind seemingly changed directions. “Sounds like fun, until you get drenched.”

“Well, I think I can beat the rain.” I retorted with a playful smile.

“Hey, Sis, can I come too?” Lillian begged as she suddenly realized an opportunity to tag along. “Finch doesn’t mind Royal much, and I think it would be good for us – especially if it’s supposed to rain the next few days like everyone says it is.”

As if to encourage the prodding of my sibling, Jack piped in. “Mind if Storm and I come along as well? I can have him ready in a few minutes, and then we can all get going.”

“Oh, how fun! It will be like a little adventure!” Lillian exclaimed. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, but alas, I fear that my eyes betrayed the lack thereof.

“I don’t know…” I faltered, searching my mind for some sort of excuse.

“We won’t be any trouble.” Jack tried to assure me, his eyes hinting at the same spunk that Lillian often had. “And if things prove ill, then the two of us will head back to the stables.”

Before I could say another word, Aria cut in. “I would love to join you guys, but I promised I would be home before dark. I would hate to come home to a pair of angry parents.”

And with that, Aria turned and left back towards the stables, giving a slight wave of her hand as a goodbye. Everyone seemed absorbed in some thought or another for a few seconds, but Lillian eagerly jumped back into our previous subject.

“I promise I won’t tease you too much! Can we please come?!”

I reluctantly agreed, and soon found myself trotting Finch down the deer trail, with Jack and Storm on my left, and Lillian and Royal on my right. The start of the trail was wide enough for the three of our horses to walk abreast, but I knew that it would not last long. For the meantime, however, Finch was handling the circumstances quite well. She was very eager to please tonight, and this made me all the more thankful considering her lack of a bridle or halter. The only means of controlling her was the one loose end of the rope around her neck, with which I would tap her rump if she refused to move at a faster pace. It was hardly needed though. Finch seemed quite content to obey my simple commands, clicks, and whistles; and I actually started to enjoy myself, despite my previous hesitations.

“Something is different about Finch today.” Lillian finally spoke, which jerked me into reality again. “Oh, I know what’s missing! She’s not wearing a halter… or really anything.”

I followed Lillian’s eyes to the rope around Finch’s neck and gave a sheepish smile.

“You’re looking to be challenged, then?” Jack asked, his voice containing a hint of teasing. I knew that he had been riding Storm almost exactly the same way yesterday, and although his Mustang had worn a light halter, Jack hadn’t even used it. Tonight he had managed to drape a thick saddle pad over Storm’s back upon which he now sat. Other than this, the black stallion was virtually tack-less, save a blue lead rope that was loosely draped around his neck.

“You know, I can’t always rely on a halter or “head control” for everything. I need to be certain that Finch understands what I want, with or without tack. The more trust I have with Finch, the better.” I spoke with a false confidence in my voice, as if I had meant all along to ride Finch tack-less that evening.

A mischievous grin crept across Jack’s face, or so it seemed, as he answered me: “Fair enough.”

We seemed to drop the conversation right then and there, for which I was grateful, and soon we found ourselves having to walk our horses single-file through some denser brush. I dropped back to the rear of the group during this time, as it gave me a chance to gather some of my thoughts whilst Lillian and Jack conversed up ahead about some topic that didn’t involve me. Before I could start enjoying the quiet again, however, our group halted as Storm stumbled a few times. Jack dismounted and lifted one of Storm’s back hooves for inspection.

“Looks like he’s lodged a few rocks up his hoof.” Jack commented in dismay as he released the leg to the ground. “I, for one, will have to turn back and get that all fixed up. Anyone care to head on back as well?”

As if in answer to the man’s question, a soft rumble of thunder was heard in the distance.

“I’ll go too.” Lillian piped up. “It’s getting more chilly, and I don’t like getting wet!”

Then Jack looked at me for a response. I certainly wasn’t the kind of girl who enjoyed getting wet, but then again I didn’t quite feel like riding back to the stables with their company. No, I wanted some peace and quiet for once.

“I’ll keep riding.” I said without hesitating.

Jack and Lillian glared at me as if I was out of my mind, but Lillian knew it was pointless to argue with me when my mind was that made up. Soon I found myself alone, with only the evening crickets, rustling leaves, and, of course, Finch to keep me company. I clicked Finch to a trot once again and for around a half an hour I enjoyed the calm scenery and quiet of the deer trail.
Eventually I steered Finch away from the path and we came to the same extensive clearing that I had discovered the day before. Above us the sky was now a dark grey, accumulating rain clouds shielding the evening light, and the wind had picked up considerably. I pulled closer the black jacket that I wore as I gazed around the clearing. The soft, quiet rain that I had anticipated was now starting to thunder upon the field in an unholy downpour, and also starting to drench both Finch and I. It was only then that I started to realize how bad my decision to stay really had been.

With haste I asked Finch to head back to the forest, but no sooner had I tapped her sides then a bright flash of lightening streaked across the sky. Finch jolted backward at the stark contrast of her shadow to the white grass below her, and then took off at an uncontrollable trot to the edge of the wood.

“Easy, Finch. Ho!” I tugged backwards on the rope around her neck, but that didn’t stop her. Finch mercilessly tore off away from the deer trail and into some cramped section of the wood. Water streaked across my face and pelted the Mustang’s coat as she broke into a gallop through the dense brush. Twigs snapped, thorns groped, and leaves smacked my face as I ducked under the random branches and bushes.

“Ho, Finch! Stop!” I pleaded with the spooked horse. Suddenly she ground to a halt, almost completely throwing me from her back. Before I could react anymore, she lifted her face to the sky. Finch’s ears were laid back firmly to her head, but her eyes searched the heavens for sign of something I did not see.

That’s when I heard it. A low rumbling noise faded in and out of the distance. The rumbling turned into the distinct and articulate beating of air. As it neared into an overhead position, I finally understood. It was a helicopter. But I was too late.

Finch’s legs started quaking in pure fear, and she seemed to be hurt with every whipping of the helicopter’s blades. Then, without warning, she reared.

(Click for the full drawing~)

I gasped and reached desperately for the rope, but it was just outside of my grasp as I started falling. Finch’s terrified cry and my piercing scream sounded together as I slid from the Mustang’s soaked back and into a pile of brush. My head hit something hard as I glimpsed Finch tearing off through the forest, away from me. Then I knew no more.

~

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep!

The sound of my alarm clock echoed through my head. With an exhausted moan I reached over to turn it off – but there was nothing tangible where I reached. There was only air. All was darkness when I opened my eyes, and though the monotone beeping continued, it slowly started fading into nothingness. Then all was silence. I tried turning my head to search for some sort of familiarity of where I was, but every movement of my head sent pain shooting down my spine and throughout the rest of my body.

“Where am I?” I started to speak, but I found that my voice seemed just as faint and distant as the beeping had been. It didn’t matter to me for long though, as an overwhelming sense of fatigue slowly engulfed me. Why did anything matter? I just wanted to sleep… if I could only sleep, then all would be made right. Before I could fulfill my desire, however, the distant beeping returned. It grew closer and more real with every passing second, but it started morphing into a higher and less frequent pitch. My little world of darkness began to fade and the exhaustion was starting to recede, being replaced by an unusual desire to wake from a deep sleep.
My eyes fluttered open and were nearly overwhelmed by the bright morning sunlight that streamed in through an open window. Despite the unfamiliarity, I quickly started puzzling out the situation. I was in a bed – and not my usual bed either. A clean white sheet lay over most of my body and my head was resting on a very fluffy pillow. The room seemed somewhat small, and yet the open window made it feel more open as a soft, warm breeze brushed against my cheek. Not all was quiet, however, as the monotone beeping of a heart monitor sounded just a couple of inches away. As I started to turn my head to inspect my surroundings more thoroughly, I was aware of a thick bandage that was wrapped around my head. Instinctively I lifted my hands to feel around my head and face. The rest of my body felt quite normal, but the back of my head was slightly throbbing with every heartbeat.

“Ugh…. Where am I?” I murmured, this time being able to voice the question aloud. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone rise from a chair and walk towards me. I almost gasped when I saw a few more people approach.

“May! Oh, thank God that you’re all right!” A very familiar voice cried, which I almost immediately distinguished as my mother’s. As I scanned the rest of the faces I noticed that my entire family was there. They were all teary-eyed and smiling, whilst my mother gave me a hug and sobbed for joy. I, for one, thought it an odd sight to be greeted by. After they had all calmed down, I noticed another figure had entered the room: It was Jack Sharif. Noticing my gaze, the rest of my family turned and let him enter the circle of people that surrounded my bedside.

“What happened, and where am I?” I asked with raised eyebrows, for probably the hundredth time since I had woken up.
It was my father that spoke up this time with a solemn, yet overjoyed look in his eyes. “Ah, praise the Lord that you’re alive, May! You gave us quite the scare last night. I suppose we should explain to you what happened, huh?”

I nodded in expectation as he pulled up a chair next to my bed.

“Well I should probably have Mr. Sharif tell you the entire story, since it was he that rescued you.” My father nodded the other man’s direction.

I was stunned at my father’s statement, and I watched with curiosity as Jack stepped forward, his eyes sparkling with a new-found joy. A million questions swirled through my head, but I set them aside as I listened to Jack’s tale.

“After your sister and I had arrived back at the stables, the tempest was already reeking havoc. I was about to take Storm inside when I noticed a lone horse was galloping down the lane. Her coat was darker and drenched with both sweat and rain, but I soon realized that it was Finch – without anyone nearby. That concerned me, so I met Finch halfway down the road and calmed her down, whilst asking her questions of where you were, May. I knew that something was wrong. Finch refused to calm fully down, and she kept acting like she had to go back the way she had come. Taking her lead, I mounted and rode her. Believe it or not, she actually led me through the forest and right to where you had fallen.” Jack’s eyes sparkled with an honest excitement.

“Finch actually went back to save your life, May. Even though she was spooked, she didn’t head back to the stables to seek refuge, but merely to seek help. It’s still astounding for even me to comprehend! A wild Mustang had forged a bond so close to you, that she seemingly risked life and limb to save her person. I carried you back to the stables, an ambulance was called, and here you are; but it wasn’t really me that saved your life. Sure, I made the 9-1-1 call, and acted upon what Finch was telling me, but I was only a small part. Finch found you. Finch carried you. Finch saved your life.”

“Finch saved your life.” Those last words ran through my head over and over again. The horse that I had doubted had done the unthinkable, even when her worst nightmare had been present. The Mustang, that had never trusted anyone except me, put her trust in Jack and took him to where I had fallen. She had acted upon the unbreakable bond that I shared with her, and it had saved me from almost certain death.

I blinked as I stared with surprise at Jack and my family. They undoubtedly knew that the story seemed unbelievable; but to me, for some inexplicable reason, I could believe Jack. No longer did this man seem intimidating, and no longer did the big Mustang Makeover competition matter. No longer did I doubt the honesty and character of Jack. He was now not only a hero, but also a newly-recognized friend.

~


-Finch is becoming more proficient at following spoken commands
-She is becoming very eager to please
-Finch now tolerates the company of certain other horses, including Royal and Storm
-This Mustang can be easily spooked by flashes of light and odd shadows
-Helicopters are still a very real fear for her
-Finch's boundless loyalty to me was demonstrated in her act of saving my life.. an instance which I shall never forget.

[.Vetinater.]

~~Likes~~
•Being scratched behind the ears, on her forehead, and along her neck
•Apples (favorite treat)
•Rain, and water in general
•Galloping around a pasture
•The company of her person
•Her (speculated) mate, "Storm"
•Small and helpless critters
•Games and exercises that make her think
•Lots of food (what horse doesn't?)

~~Dislikes~~
•Crowding
•Loud or sudden noises
•Being rushed or prodded into the uncomfortable
•The touch of something or someone unknown
•The sound of a motor or engine
•Helicopters

~~Personality~~
•Witty
•Outgoing
•Overly-curious
•Gentle and Kind
•Loyal
•Full of surprises!

~~Extra artwork~~
♥ - Of Finch and her young colt, "Flame"
♥ - Turtle showing off for Finchie again..
♥♥♥♥ - A model horse that I painted as Finch. c:

The extent of my injuries weren’t as bad as we had all expected, and after about a week I was back at the stables working hard with my beloved Mustang. Finch wasn't physically harmed that night of all the drama, for which I believe we were all thankful; And she was overjoyed at my return. Jack was eventually able to secure a new barn for Storm to stay in, shortly after I was released from the hospital, and though I didn’t see Jack every day, we still kept close contact. His stables was just down the road a ways, and because of our new friendship the two of us began combining and discussing training techniques – just as my mother had nearly predicted many nights before. Although the mystery of the stable fan was never fully solved, Jack and I worked extensively with Finch on desensitizing her to fans and helicopters. They are still one of her weak points in life, and that, combined with her lack of experience with the saddle and bit, are what I continue to work on with Finch.

A few weeks after my return, we discovered the most intriguing fact about Finch, one that nobody had noticed due to her lack of weight and slightly shabby appearance when she had first arrived: Finch is expecting! In a few months time a new Mustang foal will come into the world. Now we eagerly prepare for yet another new arrival – one that was conceived in the wilds of Nevada, unknowingly rescued from life in a holding facility, and now to be born at one of Michigan’s finest stables (in my opinion anyway!). I don’t know about you, but I’m confident that Finchie will be the most excellent mother~

[.Vetinater.]

Posting may begin now, if anyone has comments. :3