by Cooluser1615 » Wed Jan 21, 2015 12:41 pm
Username: HeroHorse
Barn: Sionnach Stables
Show name: Cinniúint Óir, meaning Golden Fate.
Call name: Ór
Gender: Mare
Age: 3 years old
Height: 16.2 hands high
Breed: Tennessee Walking Horse
Discipline: Western Pleasure (it is not my barn's primary discipline, nor will it ever be, but it fits in with the story)
Breeding fee: None yet.
Price: 1,000c
'Short' story:
Leyla sat by the window seat of the bus, watching the landscape behind her fade away. She had been unsuccessful in purchasing the horse for whom she'd dragged herself out here. Even though she was physically moving away from her failure, her heart had not budged an inch from the disappointment and anger which she felt. Leyla's mindset on the problem was that it was all her fault for not being able to get the horse. She did not make a sound, and looked around her. The noise which had previously shook the bus had faded into a low murmur as passenger after passenger had fallen asleep, or perhaps they were simply engrossed by the screens of their smart phones. Leyla felt no inclination to do the same; she was not tired and her Nokia phone, while sturdy and durable, did not possess the high-tech features which she assumed riveted others to their screens. To occupy herself, the downhearted woman gazed out the window as the bus hurtled past the world, or the world hurtled past the bus. It was while the bus had stopped to allow a few people onto it that she saw it. A relatively new poster flapping from a lamp post, a clean A4 sheet with printed text on it. It wasn't the sheet's appearance that intrigued Leyla, but the message and photograph upon it. The poster was advertising a mare for sale. Even from the two-dimensional photograph, Leyla could see what a quality horse the mare was, as well as- or maybe she was seeing things -a mischievous glint in the horse's eye. Suddenly Leyla found herself fumbling for a pen in the pocket of her grey coat. Mercifully, she found one, and managed to scrawl the phone number printed on the poster onto her left hand. As the bus lurched into action once more, Leyla wondered what had possessed her to do such a thing. It would have made far more sense to check the old, reliable horse magazines for a horse for sale. A part of her was convinced that someone had simply hung up the poster as a joke. Who would hang up an advertisement in such a desolate location? However, another part of her, the part which believed in magic and the unluckiness of the number thirteen, wondered whether the poster had been placed there for a reason. "Maybe," Leyla thought, allowing her mind to veer away from logic and towards fantasy and hope instead, "Maybe that poster was put there because I am meant to enquire about that mare.".
When Leyla finally arrived at the stable premises, the afternoon sky was already darkening. Réalta san Oíche was delighted to see her, as she was to see him, but she had to spend time mucking out his stall, grooming him and preparing his feed and water before she could get some time to herself. Leyla was glad that she'd had the foresight to leave a horseball in Réalta's stall; he had certainly made use of it. Finally the stallion was content and Leyla got the opportunity to call the mysterious number. The phone number was still on her hand, faint but visible. Leyla pulled out her mobile phone, took a deep breath and typed in the number. She received no reply for over a minute, and was about to give up when a female voice answered. "Hello, Southern Sign Ranch, breeder of quality Tennessee Walking Horses." the person replied in an exasperated tone. She then mumbled something which Leyla didn't quite catch, but sounded like 'Most of the time'. "I'm here to enquire about a mare advertised for sale. Golden Fate?" Leyla enquired. There was a pause on the other end of the line and Leyla heard an intake of breath, as though the respondent couldn't believe what Leyla had just said. "Er... Do you have any experience with horses?" the woman asked Leyla. Leyla considered taking offence at the question- she had seen the 'Unsuitable for Beginners' part of the advertisement, after all -but thought better of it. She answered "Yes, I have been working with horses for years. I've dealt with many of them.". The woman's next words did not bode well. "Trust me," she warned, "No horse which you've ever worked with is like her.". Leyla considered politely hanging up, but something stopped her. "I like a challenge." she replied.
Several days later, Leyla found herself in a bus for the second time that week. This time, though, she was feeling much more optimistic. Even the man behind her, whose snoring was threatening to burst Leyla's eardrums, couldn't dampen her mood. She got off the bus at the stop nearest to Southern Sign Ranch, but she still had to take a route down a dirt track worn down by generations of humans, horses and, as time progressed, cars. Leyla enjoyed the short walk to the ranch through the deciduous wood, which thinned out to fields as she neared the ranch buildings. She looked appreciatively at the beautiful Tennessee Walking Horses that dotted the pastures; the people at that ranch sure knew what they were doing when it came to horse breeding. When she arrived at the main stable, a middle-aged woman came walking over to her. The woman was of average height, but she had a certain type of presence which made one feel as though they were looking up at her regardless of what height they were. "So you are person who was looking to try Golden Fate?" she said, almost hopefully. Leyla could tell from her voice that she was the person who had held to phone conversation with her. "Yes, that's me. Leyla O'Donoghue." she confirmed. Leyla held out her hand for the woman to shake, which she did, grasping her hand so tight that Leyla felt certain that every bone in it had broken. The woman led Leyla off to the stables. As they walked passed stall after stall, the woman commented "Don't make me pronounce that name of yours, by the way, because I can't. You aren't from here, are you?". Leyla shook her head, still cradling her sore hand. "I'm from Ireland. And Croatia, in a way. I'm half Irish, half Croatian." she said. The woman gave Leyla a curious glance. Leyla didn't conform to the notion of an Irish person that was stereotyped abroad. No Irish people did, really. All thoughts of nationality were quickly cast aside, however, as Leyla laid eyes on what she had come to the ranch to see; the Tennessee Walker mare.
The mare was exactly the same as in the photograph, except for the fact that the photograph had not quite captured the shine upon her coat, the cocky flick of her mane or the depth of her hazel eyes. Leyla was transfixed by the horse but the mare's owner was not impressed. "I guess that you might as well know sooner rather than later. She is more mischief than she's worth." the woman said. Leyla resisted the urge to ask why she hadn't been told that sooner, but it was a rhetorical question. She knew herself that she would have simply given up on the mare and not taken the trouble to see the horse if she had known her to be of such a disposition. Now, though.... Leyla just wasn't sure. "You can take her for a ride if you like." the woman offered. Leyla nodded. The woman continued to talk, a relieved tone to her voice. "I'll go and tack her up." she explained. "The tack room is a bit... unusually... organised, and I don't want you to disappear into it and never be heard from again. You're going to have to take her on a trail ride too, I'm sorry, but the arenas are full up. Feel free to take a look around while I get her ready.". The woman raced off, presumably in the direction of the tack room, and Leyla decided to avail of her offer and take a peek at the ranch.
When Leyla arrived back, she discovered that the Tennessee Walker mare had been tacked up, and her heart started racing in fear. It wasn't the mare who had inspired such terror, but her tack. Her Western tack. Leyla cursed herself for not anticipating this. "Um-I-sort of-um-can't..." Leyla stuttered to the woman who was keeping a tight grip on the mare's reins. "You can't what?" she asked Leyla curiously. "I can't ride Western." Leyla admitted. The woman looked at Leyla as though she had said that she couldn't breathe. She pushed the horse's reins into Leyla's hands and dashed off at a brisk walk. When she came back, she wore a tan-coloured hat and bore another in her left hand. She led a handsome bay Tennessee Walker gelding with her right hand. "What are you doing? I can't ride Western." Leyla protested as the woman handed her the other hat. She smiled at Leyla and said "That is why I am going to teach you."
Off the two woman went, the ranch owner riding in the perfect picture of a good Western rider, her horse responsive to her every command, Leyla swaying like a drunk and constantly reverting to English riding positions, only to be snapped out of them by the other woman. Leyla felt like she was about to fall off at every second, and the mare's attitude certainly didn't help. The two riders passed through picturesque scenery as they walked through the forest which bordered the ranch, but Leyla had no time to gaze as the flora and fauna of the area which would have normally captivated her. The two women arrived back at the ranch after ten minutes, though it seemed like an eternity of torture for Leyla. "See, you can ride Western." the ranch owner said to Leyla as the pair untacked the horses, Leyla trying but not succeeding. "I guess..." Leyla replied, sounding unconvinced but secretly wondering if the other woman might be right. "Yes," the ranch owner confirmed, "You didn't fall off once!".
