.:First Saddle:.
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This was going to be different. This was going to be fun. And this guy... well, this guy was going to be something else to work with. I knew it from the second he passed through my barn door for the first time. Not only did he have a big red and white mohawk that could be seen from half a mile away, but he had a personality to match. That is to say that Efialtes the thrice named - which is what I've taken to calling him - was, right off the bat, one of those Neravontii that you ignored at your own risk! He'd come prancing in like he owned the place, his head held so high that I'd been afraid he was going to bang it on the door-frame. Every one of his steps had been light, jaunty and self-assured. He'd also been holding a pomegranate in the pseudo-hand on the tip of his tail. I remember that quite distinctly because it had taken me a moment to figure out just what it was. Where he got that pomegranate from I'll never know. All I can figure is that he stole it from a fruit-stand his trailer passed on the road, or pinched it from the driver's lunch. But he got it from somewhere. And I know exactly where it ended up - not ten seconds after my very first stallion had been introduced to his stall, it came flying at the back of my head.
Of course thanks to this rocky start our relationship had no room to do anything but improve. He was nothing more than a big bratty child, really, once you got used to him, and was actually quite endearing in an odd sort of way. He quickly took to following me around most anywhere I went on the farm. As such, I ceased to have much time to myself. It seems as if he's always there these days, poking and prodding at me with his nose or his tail-hand, doing his absolute best to get me to pay attention to him. More than once I've ended up sprawled out on the ground as the result of a particularly exuberant shove. And, despite the fact that I've tried to break him of this lovely little habit more times than I can remember, I'm pretty sure that I've made absolutely no progress. It doesn't seem to matter if I'm scolding him or praising him - Efialtes, as long as I'm acknowledging his existence, can't get enough of it. He positively thrives in the limelight! Interestingly enough he was like this with the rest of the herd, too, and even more so whenever Pennyroyal and Curare were around to be impressed. Quite the ladies man, this one! However, while he mostly left big ol' lazy Moe alone, Efialtes quickly became the bane of Sam's existence. I think he saw him as the primary competition for both my and Pennyroyal's affections. If Same came up to me out in the paddock to say 'hi', heaven forbid I should dare to pay him any attention before fawning over Efialtes! If I did, the latter would, without fail, shove himself between us and start nipping at Sam's belly and rump until the gelding was forced to run off... which is why I had started making sure to keep them apart as much as possible.
It is this Neravontii that I was getting ready to saddle up. And, in the back of my mind, I hoped that the whole process would instill a bit of discipline in my ornery new charge. I couldn't have him bullying my Sam! Realistically though, I had my doubts. Especially as I sat on the fence of the bullpen, watching him roll around in the dust. He also happened to be rolling around on top of his saddle, which he had, only a few moments previously, knocked off of the fence and trod upon thoroughly. Were all stallions like this? Or had I just gotten lucky?
Either way, knowing Efialtes as I know Efialtes, the only way I'd be getting away with this is if I framed it as a sort of game. My little Nightmare positively loved games. Besides, if I didn't make it into a game he would. And I really didn't want to have to play by his rules. Shifting position slightly I watched the stallion get to his feet and shake himself, one foot braced on the seat of the saddle the entire time, unashamedly putting most of his weight onto it. I could see the sturdy leather flexing from my perch on the fence, and hear it and creak in protest. It made me hope that the agency had some sort of replacement policy for damaged gear... With a sigh, I slipped to the ground, raising a small puff of dust that paled in comparison to the cloud created by my stallion. Immediately Efialtes perked his ears toward me. When I called his name, he snorted loudly and came right over to me, planting his forehead firmly against my chest and pushing. It was thankfully just enough to set me off balance but not quite enough to knock me over. Shaking my head now, I gave him a light slap on the neck and stepped around him while he was distracted. I wanted to rescue the saddle before he did something else to it - right now all it needed was a good polish and it would be right as rain. As I stooped over to pick it up, though, I felt something make contact with my behind and I was sent sprawling face-first into the dust of the bullpen.
It was Efialtes' tail.
Spitting dirt as well as curses, I scooped up the saddle and, brandishing it as a shield, rounded on the stallion just as he danced away from me. It looked for all the world as if he were laughing. Though I knew he probably wasn't. Probably. Then again, the more I looked at him and the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that he probably was. Exasperated, I took off after him. Of course I was more waddling than running since I had to deal with the wight of the saddle in my arms, so I wasn't terribly graceful. But Efialtes loved it. It was just the sort of reaction he'd been looking for! I'd taken up his game! Excitedly, he minced about in the limited space of the bullpen, looking like a foal half his age. It wasn't long before I realized that I wasn't doing anything other than tiring myself out, though. So I needed to change tactics. After a brief pause to rest, I got the bright idea of climbing back up onto the fence, the saddle still in my arms, and waiting for my Nightmare to come over to investigate. Which he did momentarily. Of course the instant he came within range I flopped the saddle down on his back, managing to overbalance myself in the process so that I ended up on the ground yet again. But it was worth it! I popped right back up as quickly as I could and was just in time grab a hold of the girth before he trotted off. I even got the buckle buckled on the second hole, ignoring the persistently playful pokes and nips from Efialtes as I worked. He thought it was all just part of the game! He, as usual, was loving the attention. At this point he kicked his back feet out excitedly and started doing laps around the bullpen, so I was unable to get the saddle anywhere near tight enough. By the time he finally tired himself out a bit and came looking for me again he was wearing the thing on his belly. But he really didn't seem to care.
Could this guy take anything - anything at all - seriously?