First Saddle
"I hadnt had Groot long before I realized he had much more going on inside his head than I originally thought. He would tend to get quite depressed at times, yet also showed signs of severe anxiety. He cowered away from loud noises and would be sent into a flurry of panic whenever someone raised their voice, even if it wasnt directed at him. I had to constantly ask people and pets alike to be quite and hushed around his stall, and after a while I eventually moved him out of the main barn and into the medical pasture, more for my own benefit than his honestly. Similar to the med pen stall inside the barn, it was larger and built to accommodate ailing Neras. The only difference was that this one was made up of a gated yard hidden behind a large wooden stall. I planted an array of willow trees around the fence line, which seemed to please Groot just fine. He would spend hours at a time bent over the little saplings, nuzzling their leaves and snapping at any unfortunate insects or birds that wandered too close. As much as he didnt like eating meat, I had even seen him slurp up a rabbit in one single, effortless swoop, the moment its little bunny teeth reached out toward a wayward leaf. He was pretty serious about protecting those trees, and it was something I oddly admired about him. I used this inspiration to fuel my latest tack design, made specifically for elderly Neras. The material was light and flexible, built in the same shape as a bareback pad but with added boot straps and a plastic front horn. It wasnt meant for heavy riding, but then again neither were elders. I painted it a stunning white and burned small vine-like patterns into the thick edges of cloth, soaking the burn marks in a washable green dye to give it a tye-dye pattern. It looked absolutely stunning, and even Groot seemed to like the aesthetic of it. I brought it out to the medical pasture and tossed the pad as well as a simplistic rope bridle over the fence, calling him forward gently to tie him to his post. He settled quickly, sniffing over the tack for just a second. I rubbed my hands over his back, feeling for any and all of the little nicks and scars he had acquired over the years. None of them seemed to hurt him, with the exception of the ones on his inner thigh. Once he had calmed to the motion of my hands, I grabbed the tack and tossed it over my shoulder, slowly slipping it onto his back so not to spook him. He seemed calm enough, though the feeling of the new tack was very foreign to him. I imagine the last time he had such a thing on him is when he acquired the worst of his afflictions, which concerned me quite a bit. Much to my surprise however, once he had fully tested the material and got used to the feel of it, he was fine. He turned his muzzle and nosed my shoulder, almost as if he were asking what was next. I smiled and praised him, giving him all the treats I humanely could, before removing the tack and packing it back up in the supply basket in front of his stall. I repeated this action for several weeks, and he seemed almost bored of it after a while. I could only hope everything would go just as smoothly when I tried to ride him.."
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