.: Neravontii Training : No Posting :.

[The Lost Gremlin]

My written pieces of Neravontii training and bonus art.
Reading is welcome, however please do not post here.

Contents
Foggy's First Ride
Thistle's First Touch
Thistle's First SaddleThistle's First Ride

[The Lost Gremlin]

A 'Brief' Recap of Foggy's Training so far...

To begin with Fowler's Peak, or Foggy as I called him, had been a delight to train, if not a bit cheeky. Being used to human interaction he seemed more than eager to comply with my attempts to get close and train him, and allowed me to touch him almost immediately upon bringing him home to his new stable.
We repeated this step over the next few days until we were both comfortable. Then out came the saddle. I'd decided on a beautiful all-purpose saddle that was dark purple in colour with a matching bridle and girth, along with a light blue numnah.
This step, however, was decidedly more tricky. As I fitted and tightened the saddle it became obvious that it had been a while since Foggy had worn one, and seemed rather uncomfortable. This was understandable, I thought, especially considering how Foggy had probably gone unworked for a few weeks prior to me purchasing him.

Then came the bridle. I was unprepared for what came next.
As soon as he saw me approach him in the stable with the bridle in-hand, Foggy bolted past me, legging it out of the stable and over the yard. Needless to say it took quite some time before I was able to catch him back up again. After that I made a mental note to always stick a halter on him before showing him the bit.

Foggy's First Ride

Today was the day.
Up until this point Foggy had been a rather good boy with training. I suppose that was to be expected though, after all, he was no stranger to humans and their ways. At the time when I had purchased him from the facility I'd been told that he had come straight off of the track, having previously been competed as a Steeplechaser in over two dozen competitions. Steeplechasing, though not hugely familiar with the sport, was something I was keen on pursuing and learning more about. That and flat track.
"Well," I had said to myself, "What better way to learn about the competition than with an experienced Neravontii? At least one of us will know what we're doing!"

"It's time!" I called as I approached the paddock, carrying Foggy's halter in one hand and a tempting bucket of diced chicken in the other. Standing by the fence there I saw the huge gelding in the middle of the paddock alongside Thistle, the only other Nera on the yard. They both approached, eager for the meat, and Foggy was caught within moments and led away whilst Thistle finished the bucket.

I brought Foggy back onto the yard to be tacked up. The enormous creature snorted as I put on his bridle, grumbling as the cold bar of metal that was the bit was pushed into his mouth. It didn't take a genius to tell that he was still not happy about wearing the head gear but I decided it was something he'd come to get used to in time.
Once the saddle was on and the stirrups adjusted I released him from the halter and led him across the concrete ground of the yard towards the indoor sand-school. After his little stunt the other day with the bridle and the fact that it was still very cold and wet outside, I decided the indoor space was probably the safest bet to have our first ride, especially if he were to throw me off and try to bolt.

Once inside I (with the help of a mounting block) mounted Foggy. I barely have time to fidget and find the other stirrup and the reins when Foggy suddenly springs to life. He lets out a wild snorting cry of excitement and charges forward, his ears forward, head thrown up as he strides over the sandy floor. I'm thrown forward over his muscular neck meanwhile, struggling to hang on. Once we reach the far end of the school he comes to a sliding halt. This time I'm sent from the saddle, over his neck and onto the floor with a dull thud.
As I laid in a daze in the sand and wondered hazily what exactly I'd gotten myself into when taking on the ownership of such a powerful creature, I looked up to see Foggy nibbling on the brim of my riding hat, a colossal hand lightly pinning me down by my chest.

Foggy seemed much calmer by the second attempt.
He stood beautifully for me as I mounted, his head down. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous - after what he did the first time I expected him to suddenly shoot fifty feet into the air and do a hundred laps around the sand school with me hanging onto his neck yet again. However he did no such thing.
He waited until I had the reins and moved forward only when I asked him. His gait was still rather bouncy but unlike before I was able to maintain a good level of control throughout the ride.

I decided to keep our first ride short and sweet - 10 minutes was long enough, I decided. By the time it came to dismounting and heading back to the yard Foggy seemed to be a different Nera. Even in the short time I'd owned him, I'd never seen him this relaxed before.
Maybe I hadn't made such a big mistake in deciding to take on training Neravontiis after all... or perhaps I was lucky... lucky-ish, anyways.

[The Lost Gremlin]

Thistle's First Touch

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect when I first met Thistle.
She was a feisty mare, that was for sure, but in the best possible way. Lively and very enthusiastic about everything, I was certain she was going to be another handful, much like Foggy had been. But there was also something else about that pied mare.
I'd been told by he facility before I got her that she already had some racing experience, and had already won almost a third of every race she'd ever competed in, so naturally I assumed she would be a piece of cake to train since she would likely already be used to humans. Be that as it may, she insisted on being rather difficult.

We started out in the paddock. I had taken my other two Neravontii Fidget and Foggy back to the yard, put away in their stables so that they couldn't interfere, so it was just Thistle, a bucket of diced rabbit and I.
I stood back against the fence with the bait, waiting and watching as the mare trotted to and fro from a distance. She seemed to be assessing the situation, wondering how she could get to the bucket of meat without having to get too close to me. I knew she was only making a meal out of it all, however, for in the past whenever I had approached to remove Foggy for his training she had never once hesitated to approach me, with or without a bucket of meaty goodness. She had to be testing me.

"Come on, then." I called, taking a step forward and shaking the bucket. I watched as she paused for a moment, slender head turned my way, ears pricked forward and a single foreleg raised. She then cocked her head to the side before lowering it between her shoulders so that her nose was mere inches from the grass and began to inch forward. Every few metres she would pause again, lift her head to sniff the air (and subsequently, the wafting scent of raw rabbit meat - or so I wanted to believe) before trundling on again.

Within minutes the colossal creature was an arm's length away. Holding the bucket in both hands I was now subject to Thistle. The mare eyed me suspiciously (...or at least I'm sure she would've if she actually had eyes) before finally braving it; there was no further hesitation as she plunged her head into the bucket and began to gobble up the meat. Her body seemed to relax as she fed, her taut figure gradually slackening as she filled her belly.
I took the opportunity right then to touch her. Using one arm to secure the bucket, I slowly moved my hand to stroke along her nose. At the contact she froze momentarily, as if to let it all sink in before she went back to licking up the last morsels of rabbit. My hand wandered down the sides of her muzzle, my fingers tracing the sunny stripes that marked her cheeks.

I assumed she was enjoying the attention, for even when she'd finished her bucket she did not move until I moved my hand away entirely. By that point Thistle lifted her head to sniff my face before suddenly wheeling around and taking off across the paddock.
...She was an interesting mare, to say the least.

[The Lost Gremlin]

Thistle's First Saddle

The day I decided to move from touch to saddle was a tiresome one, as expected.
Thistle seemed to have known what as going on. She'd paced restlessly in her stall, snorting with excitement and her furry ears pulled forward as I wandered off to fetch the tack. By this point her trust in me had grown phenomenally, to the point now where she was always the first to the gate whenever I approached the paddock, and the last to leave thereafter.

When I came back with the all-round saddle and bridle, her excitement only heightened. I assumed this was a behaviour retained from her days on the flat-track from before I got her. Perhaps she thought it was time for another race and couldn't wait? I couldn't blame her - the paddocks were too small for even a single Neravontii to flat out sprint across without having to cut the run short, unless they wanted to crash into the fencing.

I'd left the saddle on the stall door and went inside with the bridle. She stood for me, letting me slip the piece of tack on, as though the mere presence of the equipment had suddenly been enough to sedate her. I waited, letting her play with the bit for a few minutes whilst adjusting to the leathery garb before I turned for the saddle. Again she stood like a brick wall, letting me tack her up... and then, she sprung to life.

The mare threw her head around, ears once again at full tilt. She'd pounded her hands against the ground, rearing up and bellowing in a fit of pure energy. I could almost hear her cries, "I'm ready, let's go! I'm ready to race! C'mon already!"
Of course... there was no race to be had. I had never even sat on her before, never mind race. Besides, after spending a few weeks out of training, she was still in no way fit enough for the strain of the track.

Eventually, she calmed down and I allowed her to shift around in her stable still wearing the saddle. She seemed a bit bummed by this point, probably disappointed that she would be seeing no action. Still, she did not allow this realisation to sour her good temper and was nonetheless still keen to give me affection. After a good half hour I untacked her and led her back outside into the paddock where at once she bombed off to meet with the others.
Despite her initial high-energy response to the tack, I decided that I would not be deterred. I was sure that after a few more days of repeating this crucial step, we would finally seal the training with our first ride.

[The Lost Gremlin]

Thistle's First Ride

"Slow down, you daft thing." I said to the Thistle, half-laughing as she was the one to lead me down the path to the sand-school. Fully tacked up in her usual riding attire, she was raring to go, and I knew she could sense that today would be different. Up until this point she'd only paced restlessly in her stall wearing her tack, snorting and longing to get through the door. To say she was excited today was an understatement.

By the time I'd found the mounting block and climbed onto Thistle's back I was certain the mare was about to explode from the sheer excitement; she jittered from one foot to another with her beautiful, slender head held high.
"Are you ready?" I asked her, shortening the reins in an attempt to maintain control before she could lose herself.

It wasn't long before we were ready. I squeezed Thistle with my legs to prompt her to begin at a steady walk, the reins held tight. She snorted but complied without an ounce of reluctance. Every step she took around the arena was flighty and quick, as though she was finding it unbearable to be moving at such a slow pace. She didn't, however, make any attempt to steam ahead, to forgo her previous training. I had her full attention.

After about five minutes of keeping up the pace and changing the rein I was convinced that Thistle had warmed up enough to try something a bit faster. She didn't need telling twice. After very little encouragement she broke into a see-sawing canter. Compared to Foggy she had a very fluid gait despite her excitement making for a very pleasant ride - I could easily see myself racing her sometime in the future... after some additional training, of course.
We finished the ride with another few gentle laps around the school. I half expected Thistle to still be thirsting for a run however to my surprise she was rather sedated, happy even. It was as though she knew today was only the beginning and that there was more to come - much more.
This was going to be fun.

[The Lost Gremlin]

- to be finished later -

[The Lost Gremlin]

Jonquil's First Touch

Finally I had my own stallion.

Jonquil was a striking creature, with a bright golden pelt and a few minor white markings. He certainly stood out, especially against my gelding Foggy, whom I had decided to pasture him out with. For a few days I watched the gold stallion from a considerably safe distance, giving him plenty of space rather than attempting to approach him. To my knowledge Jonquil had had very little human contact since his wild capture so I wanted to take things slower than I had with the others.
Still despite my cautions Jonquil had taken a run at me on a number of occasions - bluff charges, I assumed, for he never seemed to go more then twenty or thirty feet before skidding to an abrupt halt. Luckily for me Foggy was always quick to put himself between me and the stallion, making him veer off to the side before he could reach me at the fence. This only happened a few times, and only for the first week or two. After that Jonquil calmed down and instead took to just watching me as he laid beneath the solitary oak that stood on the far end of the field.

By week three I decided it was time to make first contact with Jonquil. As always I had Foggy accompany him. The pied gelding seemed eager to see me and immediately came trotting over in such a way that he seemed to be showing off his new rug. I petted Foggy's nose and offered him a handful of rabbit meat - then I glanced over to see if Jonquil was watching. He seemed to be (his head turned in our direction, at least) so I hoped for the best. My thoughts were that if he could see that I meant no harm and that my presence meant food and treats it'd be easier to tame him.

I began to approach with the bucket of meat in my hand, my eye always on the gold figure beneath the tree. I paused every now and again expecting the male to rush me again. But he did no such thing and continued to watch, moving only occasionally to scratch behind his ear with one of those dexterous ape-like hands of his.

"Jon," I called, giving the bucket a coaxing shake, "C'mere, boy." Nothing. As expected, I guess.

I stepped a little closer. By now I was only twenty feet away. "Jon. Jonquil." I cooed. The stallion glanced up, ears tilted forward. He made a low grunting sound before going back to scratching. "Are you hungry? I've got some nice rabbit for you."

At that moment I felt a weight in the bucket and before I knew it it was snatched right out of my hands. By the time I turned around Foggy was already halfway down the field with the bucket held in his prehensile tail. Chunks of meat flew in every direction as he tossed the container around. So much for bribing Jonquil with titbits.

I turned my attention back to Jonquil. The stallion was still beneath the tree only this time his attention had been turned to Foggy. Now seemed like as good a time as any. I approached him from the side until I was only a few feet away - surely he'd seen me coming, I thought - but I remained ignored by the gold giant.
"Hello...?" I said, taking a step back. Jonquil turned his head. He suddenly got to his feet which made me fall backwards in surprise. With Foggy distracted and halfway across the field and no fence between us there was nothing to stop him from stomping on me now. Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea...

To my surprise Jonquil did not try to attack me. Instead the great brute lowered his head to my level and began to sniff me. It was as though he was curious. Spontaneously I opened my palm allowing him to sniff it whilst my other hand reach up to touch his nose. I My fingertips barely grazed his fur before he jerked back his head with a snort. Was I being too forward? Maybe. But despite this he returned for more. And unlike last time I finally managed to pet him. The touch was brief however and after only a few seconds he was gone again, only this time he retreated right back towards the trees.
Baby steps, I told myself.