[dreamwalker]

username: Great ;
name: Mischief And Magic // Love
gender: mare
eye color: green
dam: --
sire: --

[kalon]

thank you so much ^^

I'm very happy to have this horse as my first! I'll edit right away with the details.

[kalon]

Show Name; Mischief And Magic
Barn Name; Love
Gender; Mare
(eventual) Halter Color; could you do something of this sort?

all the sections will be in this post so it's nice and neat ouo



"So this is it," I muttered to myself, yanking the steering wheel of my truck to the side so I could slip into the entrance of Bear Run Icelandic Tolters. I must have been a sorry sight -dark, navy blue truck that looked like it had gone through a nuclear war, barely dragging a weathered two-horse trailer along behind it. I wasn't proud of my equipment, but it got the job done. I probably would have never given Bear Run a second thought as I was more of a sport-horse kinda gal, but I had recently discovered that the place had received wild, untouched tolters; exactly what I was looking for. I had grown up with horses, but never had the pleasure of owning one myself. If I was going to bring a horse back to my barn, I very well wanted to be able to create a bond with it from the start.

My truck shuddered to a stop as I pulled into a parking spot, taking a few seconds to gather what I needed. I wrestled with the door handle a bit before it clicked, and with a last calming breath, I jumped out of the truck and began to trudge up to the barn. A few minutes of stuttering and intense social anxiety later, I found myself weaving through pens of untamed tolters, absentmindedly looking them over and skimming over their information cards. Some were too flashy for me, fancy coats sure to attract attention. Most were already claimed. One stallion, a blood bay tobiano, had me entranced by his flashy coat and excellent movement; but the moment I stepped closer to his pen, he rocketed toward me, wild eyes and ears flat back. His nasty temperament quickly had me walking away.

After half an hour of wandering through the enclosures, I began to doubt if a tolter was what I really wanted. None of them fit. A bit dejected, I started shuffling back to the barn. I stopped to read the card of a mare I had looked over; she was painfully thin, scabs and hairless patches mottling her muddy coat, ragged mane and a tail that couldn't have looked worse. She was in horrible shape, and seemed to feel it too; she stood huddled in the back corner. I clucked at her, hoping it would ignite a bit of movement, but she didn't budge. I clucked again, and again. Still, nothing. Not planning to waste my time on a train wreck like her, I let out a shrill, high pitched whistle, expecting her to stay motionless. To my surprise her ears flickered, as if she was annoyed by the sound. I did it again, and she shifted. Slowly, I whistled a tune, an old lullaby from when I was young. Ever so gently, the mare struggled to turn her head so she could see me. The moment her emerald eyes connected with mine, I couldn't help but gasp. So much pain, so many bad memories were captured in her eyes.

That was when I made the decision to bring her home with me.



It had been one day since I had adopted the mare and taken her home with me. It took an hour of coaxing to get her into my trailer, but she stood quiet in it, trembling ever so slightly. No matter what amount of whistling or bribing I attempted she wouldn't back out of the trailer, so I left the door open for her to get out on her own time. Eventually, the mess of a creature shambled out into the sunlight. It was hard to see her coat in the shadows of her pen back at Bear Run, but now, in the light, I saw every little detail. A shell of dried mud caked her legs and underbelly, but her hooves were in relatively good shape. You could tell that Bear Run had done an excellent job caring for her in the day or so that they had her, but it would take months to return the mare to a healthy state. She had been vaccinated back at Bear Run, but I called my local vet to check her out anyway. He noted that she was pretty healthy inside, but she was a hundred pounds or so underweight and her coat was in horrible condition. After recommending a few medications for her coat and advising a good feeding plan, I was once again alone with my wild mare.

Then, it began to rain. Not a storm, just a light summer shower. My mare shifted the moment the rain hit her back, throwing her head up. The rain began to wash off the mud, revealing a grullo coat, with a jagged white patch on her rump. She was rather pretty. She stood there in the rain for a few minutes before picking her way down to the shelter in her pasture.

I was extremely lucky to have such a nice property. On top of the hill were two large barns and a farmhouse, beyond that a round pen and sand arena. The surrounding 80 acres were dotted with large paddocks and smaller pastures, each with a small shelter. Even further beyond that was a few hundred acres of woods, owned by the surrounding properties, but I had been given permission to ride through the trails as I pleased. It really was a beautiful place.

By the time the rain stopped, it was feeding time. So far I had left some hay in the shelter, and the mare was free to graze wherever. I walked down to her with a bucket of warm mash with some supplements, which she gobbled up the moment I hung the pail. Her eyes sparkled, clearly pleased with the treat. A few times she had let me touch her neck or cheek, but nothing more than a gentle stroke or two. I reached out, but she stepped away. "Come on, love. I won't hurt you," I whispered. She eyed me warily, still staying away from my outstretched fingers. Suddenly I remembered the whistling; quietly, I whistled the same lullaby I had before. Her stance softened as the music reached her ears, and slowly, she extended her neck until her velvety muzzle just barely grazed my hand. "Good girl," I muttered quietly before whistling another sweet song. She took another step towards me, her muzzle now pressed into my hand. I tentatively stroked down her face, all while whistling. "It's alright, love. You're safe here."

When the lullaby ended, my mare shook her mane and stepped away to finish her meal. "Love. That's what I'll call you," I decided as I turned to trek back to the farmhouse, smiling all the way. She was going to fit in just fine.



Two weeks after I brought Love home, and she was looking mighty fine. The supplements had done wonders for her coat, most of the scabs had healed and her fur was growing back nicely. I had roached her mane so it would grow evenly, and her tail was looking better. She had packed on a few pounds, no longer looking so sunken, though her ribs were still visible. A mischievous glint had sparked in her green eyes -I should have named her Loki with all the trouble she was getting into. She would carry anything in the pasture around in her mouth; a stick, a giant leaf, even an abandoned bird's nest. Love had also recently discovered how to mess with the pasture gate, but I caught her and placed a lock on it before she got out.

My whistling had turned into soft singing each feeding, and I could run my hands down her neck, head, and shoulders without objection. It had taken a bit of convincing for her to let me roach her mane, but soon enough, she trusted me around her head. Sometimes I would run my hand down her back, but she always flinched away. She had been very happy in her little pasture shelter, but it was thunderstorm season; I couldn't leave her in the storm overnight. I had to bring her up to the barn.

Which meant I somehow needed to get a halter on her.

I had bought a colorful halter and a black lead line, a bit of a spontaneous buy, but it was in her size. I brought the halter down to her one feeding; she was a bit spooked by the strange smell and feel of it, but over the next week, she got used to it being rubbed on her, all while I sang soft melodies. On a sunny day, I slipped it over her nose and fastened the buckle quickly, awaiting her response. Love shook her head, processing the funny feeling. She tossed her head, and when it didn't come off, panicked a little bit. I began to sing and whistle, slipping into the shelter and stroking her cheek. I walked out into her pasture, waiting for Love to follow. She hesitated a moment before shaking her head once more and trotting out to me, still confused by the contraption. I laughed at her expression and kept walking, Love following me all the way. After a few laps around the pasture, I clipped the lead to her halter. She eyed the dark line, but dropped her head to graze.

After a couple minutes, I put a very gentle pressure on the lead. Love's head flew up, surprised. She clearly didn't like the pressure on her poll, and stepped back; but that only increased it. "Come on, Love," I sang. "You're smart."

I kept the pressure on the line, and whistled a three-note tune. Love stepped forward to me, and the moment she did, I released the pressure. "Good girl, Love," I sang. I gently pulled on the lead again, and Love hesitated before stepping closer, the pressure dissipating when she did. I continued to lead her around, step by step, all around. Love learned fast. A few days of doing this, and she willingly stepped in whatever direction I pulled her in. I trusted her enough to open the gate to her pasture and lead her up to the barn, and she followed me all the way. Since Love was used to being in a stall, she didn't mind it much and was fine in the stall for the night. I shut her door and hung the colorful halter on a hook before stroking Love's muzzle a final time and heading back to the house.

Yes, Love was coming along just fine.



One month later, and Love was looking fantastic. Her eyes shone brighter than ever, and the vet had approved her health. Her mane had grown out a few centimeters as well, and you could no longer see every bone through her skin. Love had also discovered the joys of avoiding the halter and galloping around the pasture - her time escaping me had given her quite a bit of muscle. I had discovered she loved to fiddle with her stall lock and get out in the middle of the night, traipsing through the barn aisles. Good thing the feed and tack rooms were locked with a key- or by now, Love would've wreaked havoc.

One misty morning, I trudged up the the barn only to discover Love not in her stall- or anywhere in sight. After a minute of panic I found her in the very last stall, laying down. I freaked out and rushed in, falling to my knees next to Love's elegant head. But she didn't seem sick at all, just laying down. Still, that was unusual for her. Suddenly, I saw movement flash between Love's front legs and her chest. She moved enough for me to see what was tucked beneath her; to my surprise, a small cat stepped out from under her and yawned. It wasn't a kitten, but also not a full grown cat. Upon further inspection I discovered that the teenage cat was a male, with bright eyes, one blue and one brown. He had jet black fur, and the only white on him was a jagged shape around his blue eye. He didn't protest when I picked him up, and I noticed a slim orange band fastened around his neck. Before, his long fur had concealed the tag, but now I saw the silver charm. Engraved on it was a simple phone number.

I stroked Love's nose, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket. I typed in the number, and after a few seconds of static dialing, a lady's voice picked up. I spoke with her, explaining how I had found her young feline curled up with my mare, and she thanked me before asking for directions to come pick him up. When she drove up an hour later, she happily took the cat from me and thanked me again before driving off.

Later, when I went back to Love's stall, she seemed saddened. "It's alright, Love," I sang to her. Still, she acted dejected for the rest of the day.

The next morning the cat was back, his strange eyes twinkling with mischief as he balanced precariously on Love's back. Once again, I called the lady, who apologized before coming to pick him up again. Over the next few days, no matter how the lady tried to contain the little lad, he always ended up back in Love's stall the next morning. Phone call after phone call, I noticed the lady getting more and more exasperated. One morning, she just sighed and asked me if I wanted to keep the little bugger- I could have him if I would drive out there to pick up some supplies for him. I certainly didn't need a cat, but the familiar jet-black coat and mismatched eyes had definitely cheered Love up. So I agreed to drive out there; after a few words, I owned one male kitten, along with a bed, a few toys, and some food.

He wasn't interested in the bed, or even coming into the house except for food; so my new kitten, who I named Loki, became Love's faithful companion.



Three months of owning a cheeky little mare named Love, who had quickly adopted her kitten Loki. Every morning I would go out to the barn and feed Love and Loki before turning Love out to pasture for a while. After she ate, I would groom her. It took her a while to get used to it, but eventually, she was fine with almost any texture. I could easily pick her hooves and braid her mane, though she clearly didn't like it. She had improved with being led around, so I figured it was about time to get her used to a few other things.

I started by putting her in the round pen, and setting up a few scary things. A lawnchair in the corner, a jacket hanging from one of the posts, a small tarp on the sand. Love was very wary of these strange "monsters", and for a while she refused to even enter the pen until I coaxed her in with another lullaby. After a few days of just leading her around, she got used to the sights, and didn't bat an eye when she had to walk over the wet tarp or in a puddle. Though quick movements still spooked her a little, she didn't mind much else. I brought a plastic bag on a stick in one day- Love took one look at it moving in the breeze and flipped. It took me three songs and a lot of whistling to get her to calm down and even approach the contraption. She still freaked when it rustled, but eventually, I could swing it around her and rub it on her back and down her legs.

Days went by where all I did was brush Love, or train her to get used to the hose and baths, or just find something laying around and work with her until she got used to it. I taught her to behave on a lunge line and not panic when I brought a lunge whip near her. Though it took a while for her to understand how to go around me in a circle, I could finally observe her gaits. Love's walk was smooth, she took small steps but moved nicely. Her trot was a floaty gait, and she seemed to move as if she was on clouds. Her canter was a bit stiff, but I worked with her to loosen up her back and teach her to drop her head and extend. She was coming along very nicely.

I decided to train her to accept the bit and wear a bridle-after all I was going to ride her one day. I purchased a small leather bridle and a rubber bar for a bit, so I would start her off gently. Love was no stranger to having tack on her head, but when I finally got the bit in her mouth, she decided to violently shake and try anything to get it out. No matter what I did, Love wouldn't quit. I took the bridle off her, defeated for that day.

I wasn't going to give up, though. I thought that maybe if I flavored the bit, she would take it easier. The next day, I calmed Love before slipping the headstall over her nose. She eventually opened her mouth for the bit, and the most confused look crossed her face when she tasted it. Love didn't panic, she was just utterly dumbfounded. She learned that the bit wasn't trying to attack her mouth, and that she could actually close her mouth if the bit was in it. She seemed to accept that the bit was just a really strange way to steer her, and soon enough, she was just as fine lunging in the bridle as she was in the halter.



Today was the day. I had recently acquired a small saddle, a pad, and a girth, all hopefully fitting for Love. She knew something was up when I led her into the round pen and brought the saddle with me- she hadn't ever seen one before. I started by taking the saddle pad and letting her get used to it; rubbing it down her legs and her neck, and letting it rest on her back. After she was fine with that, I started to put it on her back and hug around her; where the girth would be. Like with the pad, she was uncomfortable, but she eventually got used to it.

Finally, I got her used to the saddle. I would sit it on her back and then take it off, until she was fine with the weight on her. I would put the pad and the saddle on her and hug around her like a girth, until eventually I fastened the girth on her. She was clearly uncomfortable with having the thing fastened to her back, but she would let me lead her around with it on. Occasionally out walks were interrupted with fits of shifting and bucking, but after time gently singing to Love and getting her used to it, she was one more step on her way to being a well-trained mare.



"Walk on," I called out firmly to my mare, urging her to move forward. It was the first time I was lunging her with the saddle and bridle on, and she looked incredibly awkward as she tried to figure out how to move with the small english saddle strapped to her back. "Walk on, Love," I called out, and Love begrudgingly began to walk forward. Her steps were small and stiff, her eyes flickering behind her every once in a while. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the saddle being on her back, but I knew she would get used to it. After a while she finally relaxed, realizing she could actually move. Love began to perk her ears up and open her steps, extending her neck. "Good girl," I called out.

I worked for days, teaching Love to work peacefully with the saddle. Her trot was as dainty as ever, her canter relaxed. Though sometimes her circle was interrupted with a fit of bucking if the saddle slipped, she eventually got used to the saddle on her back. I began to put more weight on the saddle by tying two sandbags together and laying them over the seat; at first she spooked when she saw the out of the corner of her eye, but learned to relax and move nicely with extra weight, even when it was unbalanced. Sometimes, even Loki joined in sitting on her back as she walked around.



Just as fall was beginning to turn to winter and the air was getting chilly, I decided it was time for Love's first ride. I had spent a lot of time lunging her with the weighted saddle, and stepping up into the stirrup or leaning my upper body across the saddle. Today I had asked my brother to help me, as it wouldn't end well if Love panicked and I got hurt while I was alone. I led Love out to the round pen, all tacked up. Her soft green eyes watched me curiously as I handed the lead to my brother after I warmed her up. I put my weight in the stirrup and stood up in it, then stepped back down. I repeated that a few times on each side, and leaned over the saddle a few times as well. Finally, I brought my leg over the other side and sat up in the saddle, trying my best to relax.

Love arched her neck around so she could look at me, and I stroked her muzzle. She seemed content with me in the saddle, so I shifted around a little bit. She still was relaxed and calm, so I motioned for my brother to lead her forward. He led Love around a few times before I knew she was fine with me on her back. I started by pressing my heels into her side as my brother pulled her forward, until she learned that that meant walk on. Then, bit by bit, I taught her to turn by pulling on the reins and to stop when I gently pulled back. I was so happy that she had done so well- Love had come so far.



this takes place a year or so after her first ride

I pulled into the showgrounds about an hour before the show was set to start, though it was already packed with trailers and trucks of all sorts, and about a horse of every color milled around somewhere. The variety of equines surprised me; it was only a small local show. I managed to find a space near the back and pulled in, the smells of the showground wafting around me. I flung open the truck door and stepped out, and walked to the trailer door. I fumbled with the door for a bit before swinging it open and putting the ramp down. In the trailer stood my Icelandic tolter mare Love, who was contentedly munching on a bit of hay. I walked up the ramp and untied the mare, before pushing on her chest so she would back out. The moment all four of her hooves were on grass, she let out a shrill whinny, receiving quite a few replies from the surrounding horses. "Oh shush, Love," I laughed at her, looping her black lead around the trailer and securing it.

I unfastened her blanket and pulled it off, along with her leg wraps. The drive had been long, so I spent a moment stretching each one of her legs before I tied a hay net next to her and went off to the registration tent to get my number. When I returned, Love was happily chowing down, so I took the time to make sure she looked spotless. She was entered in only one class; a flat class for very green horses. After I brushed over her coat a few times and checked her hooves, I retrieved my saddle and bridle and tacked her up. Her grullo coat gleamed, and the snowcap on her rump was white as it would ever be. It was about thirty minutes until our class began, so I quickly mounted up. The warm up ring looked like a mess, so I warmed Love up in our little back corner. She was jittery from all the sights, sounds, and smells, but I sang to her until she calmed. Soon enough, it was time to go down to the arena.

The arena was covered, a massive sandy space. I halted Love outside of the gate, glancing at the other riders. I boy on a big bay gelding shivered nervously, and a little girl on a pony smaller than Love smiled for a picture. The announcer called our class into the ring, and one by one, seven assorted pairs or equine and human settled into a walk on the perimeter of the ring. Love shuddered and I rubbed little circles into her shoulder, though her eyes and ears still flickered around. The announcer reported that we were now being judged, and I took a deep breath before relaxing along with Love. The announcer called for a trot and I gently squeezed my heels against Love, who quickly launched forward into her floaty gait. I half-halted her as we shot forward, convincing her that this was nothing to be worked up about.

The voice coming from the loudspeakers called for a canter, and I gently pushed my seat into Love and squeezed lightly. Seemingly calmer than before, Love transitioned nicely into her canter, on the right lead. She fell into a rhythm, relaxing and chewing on the bit. I was so proud of my girl, and the rest of the class flew by as Love followed my aids perfectly. When we were asked to line up in the center, Love and I ended up with the red ribbon- second place. I tried to contain myself as I walked out of the ring and back to the trailer; the moment I dismounted I flung my arms around Love's neck, showering her in praise. Nothing could have rivaled how proud I felt of my little mare; she had gone from a skinny mess of a tolter to a beautiful horse.

She nuzzled me, and I smiled. "Good girl, Love."

[kalon]

alright! I am done. I don't know if I was supposed to write all of that in a day, but oh well c: This is my first tolter and I'm not sure how it works. Do I have to do something else?

[dreamwalker]

looks lovely! You're welcome to pick the design for your halter charm now and I'll get the halter and charm added ^.^ (please keep in mind that the design for the charm will need to be fairly simple since it'll be small-medium sized. I've done things like crescent moons, letters, hearts, etc. so hopefully that gives you an idea of what I can fit in c: )
You did a good job too, so you're welcome to pick another small/medium accessory if you would like. Boots, a bridle, flowers or ribbons in the main or tail, etc.

[kalon]

oh, thank you! I would love to have a charm with a music note if possible ^^

and I have no idea what I would do for the other accessory... I suppose I'm not allowed to ask for Loki, so just surprise me c:

[kalon]

or if possible her red ribbon

[dreamwalker]

I can totally do a red ribbon for you cx
i'll be working on bear run stuff later this evening so I'll get it put on then c:

[kalon]

I can totally do a red ribbon for you cx
i'll be working on bear run stuff later this evening so I'll get it put on then c:

thanks! <3