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Description
2018 storyline folder "Loving Learning Winning Losing"
Previously | Next

Music.
Summer
As I open my eyes, I find myself lying on the couch in the lounge. What has happened? I jump up, but that makes me dizzy, and I sink back to a seat.
Right. The gate. The mares. I remember it now. Slowly I pull myself to my feet, ignoring the bright spots dancing in front of my eyes. I gotta help. I gotta find them.
My body feels weird as I hurry out on the yard. My headache has only gotten worse - with every step, a sharp pain shoots through my temples, and my legs won’t cooperate either. Ouch, that was the doorframe. Classic, Summer.
I arrive just in time to watch the riders return. The mares have been found - Ryan was right, they don’t seem to have gotten very far, and it looks like they stayed together for the most part. As they’re being driven into one of the paddocks, I hurry to count them. Sense, Missy, Naira... good, that’s thirteen mares safely behind the fence - but where's Blue, where's Blue?
---There's Blue.
Kent is holding her - he’s tied a lead rope around her neck and keeps her close to his own mount. The painted grey is familiar - it’s Charger he’s sitting on. I remember; I’ve taken the grey out of his stall, before... As Kent looks at me, I stop dead in my tracks.
Wordlessly, he dismounts. I feel my stomach sinking, and a strange uneasiness falls over me. But I clench my fists: I won’t let that get the better of me now. “Thanks,” I eventually say with a thin voice, and after a second of hesitation, step forward to grab Charger’s reins and Blue's lead rope. But he doesn’t let them go.
“I’ll bring them back to the barn,” he says with a strained smile, then quickly adds, “Don't worry. Get some rest, I think you need it.”
I shake my head. “I still have… four horses to-”
“Please.” His voice is silent, but firm.
I let go of the ropes, but cross my arms instead. “I know what I’m doing,” I determine, surprised about the sharpness in my own voice but also not ready to step down and give in. I expect a comeback, but Kent says nothing. He looks away - shrugs - nods - then leads my horses away. I stay behind, puzzled as can be.
~~~
Jim says he’ll be coming to AVRRA next Monday.
It's been a few days since the Great Escape. For some reason, I’ve been steadily getting assigned less horses since then... but I’m the last person to complain about that; if anything, I am enjoying the extensive lunchbreak and the early quitting-time that this results in. With that and my boyfriend announcing his upcoming arrival, I’m once again able to ponder the HCL finals, and my showing plans for the rest of the season. I’ve got my calendar laid out in front of me, but for the life of me can’t figure out how to fit all of that into the few weeks and weekends left in 2018.
And yet… the longer I think about the finals, the less certain I am about them.
At least Jim was able to calm my concerns about Pippin. No need to panic, hey says, the board is fully paid, and he’s personally made sure that his sister was giving him the best possible training. Janet, too, reports he’s feeling swell in boot camp, though he’s wreaking havoc daily. I smile to myself: that sounds like my feisty little colt, so he can’t be too miserable at the new place. But so it’s set: we’ll stick to our plan and I’ll get my youngster back in the new year, in time for preparation for his 6-year-season. Reassured, I’m now able to go back to my day work with some weight taken off my shoulders.
When suddenly, it’s Monday, and I’m leading Jim across the property to show him around.
“...Here, that’s my mare Blueberry,” I say as we enter the barn where my special little bay is stabled. I catch myself trying to see the place through his eyes - and realize what a familiar, comfortable, homely place it’s become to me throughout the years of working here. The adobe walls with the big arches that let in so much light, the rural stable walls, the fact that it’s never completely silent in here…
Jim holds his hand out for Blueberry to smell at, but the mare isn’t particularly interested in him. Ears to the side, she turns her shoulder towards us. I rattle on. “I owe her a lot,” I say, not even trying to hide the pride in my voice. “She injured a ligament last December, so she’s been on a long break. I didn’t have time to really bring her back, so I bred her. She’s due in March.”
“Which stallion?”
“YFS Hennessy, by Absint -”
He squints. “What's her breeding?”
“She’s by Buchanan, out of a Timotheus dam. Thunderbird line.”
“Mmh. Yeah, I know the line. Seems a little long in her back and neck?”
“I know,” I snap, a little impatient as he enters her stall. Do I look like I don’t know what I’m doing? “I trust he’ll level that out. I expect a lot from that foal.”
Jim doesn’t reply. He’s preoccupied; he looks her over, feels her back, palpates her legs. “She’s super thin though,” he determines. “...You going for a jumper foal?”
In the meantime Blue has decided she doesn’t want any of his - she swings her head around with bared teeth and ears pressed to her head. “Ow!” I hear Jim exclaim - he flinches and in the same motion, smacks Blue’s nose, who promptly throws her head in the air.
“Hey, let her be!” I reach out to my horse. “She just doesn’t know you,” I defend her. “And... of course she’s out of shape after such a long break.”
“Even in pregnancy, a mare should -”
“You don’t know how difficult it is to get any weight on her in the first place!”
“Aw, c’mon, that is no excuse.”
“Thank you very much, Mr Cros, if you know it so much better, here you go, the tack room is this way-” I stop dead, realizing what I’ve just said.
Jim looks at me, unblinking. “Wow,” he finally says. That’s all. Just “wow”.
I can’t force myself to feel bad, though. It’s strange - I realize how impatient I’ve become lately, how easily rubbed the wrong way by the most irrelevant remarks. Ever since Dresden, I’ve been… off. The familiar feeling of missing-out-on-something. Restlessness. I blame it on the stress.
Eventually, we leave the stable. Jim follows me with a little distance, neither of us saying anything. His brows are furrowed: I realize he’s a little cross with me. Having walked halfway over the yard to the pastures - the next stop on my barn tour - I break the silence again.
“Jim, why are you here?”
He doesn’t say anything at first.
“I was going to look at some of your saleshorses,” he murmurs - the obvious answer - but after a bit of consideration, adds, “and I thought I’d come help you prepare Caddy for the finals.”
I hesitate. I realize what I’m about to say, what my gut tells me. If it takes my body an entire shutdown to bring me to my senses, I won’t - can’t - refuse to listen to reason.
“I’m not going to start,” I eventually say.
For a moment, Jim looks surprised, then a lopsided smile appears on his lips. “Well, that makes two, then.”
“You’re not starting either?” Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “But why not - you’re individual leader!”
“No horse,” he shrugs. “I’m not going back to ride my father’s horses, if you were gonna ask. Nah.” He shakes his head, stubborn as a mule.
“You’d give up a potential good placing out of spite?!” I exclaim. In the same moment I rue my vehemence - that blasted dizziness is coming back. I’m reaching for my forehead, rub my temples.
Jim, on the other hand, looks way too satisfied with himself. “Yeah, so?” he nods, grinning down on me. Though, as he sees my face, his smile freezes a little. “Are you alright?” he says. ”You look a little pale.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I assure him. “I’ll just sit down for a moment.”
I sink onto the next best bucket - but as soon as I’ve sat down, I jump back to my feet. “Wait,” I exclaim. “This is perfect!”
“What is perfect?” Jim is puzzled.
“You go to the finals,” I grin. “With Caddy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I usually don't like to explain every motive and detail but this might be something easily missed: Summer calls Jim "Mr. Cros", which is how Peter is called by students and clinic attendees --- means, she basically put him on the same page as his current archenemy xD Kudos to Jim for handling it like he did...

Also oh my goodness yes! Blue will have a foal! Just noticed that I've never revealed it here before. xD The sire is by Mendokusee - now I'll hopefully be able to complete his breeding payment asap (: thanks for being so patient

AVRRA and its inhabitants (c) by WesternSpice
Art, written art, Sum mer, Jim and Blue (c) by me | reference for Blue [link] | background references [link] [link]

Description
2018 storyline folder "Loving Learning Winning Losing"
Previously | Next

Music.
Summer
As I open my eyes, I find myself lying on the couch in the lounge. What has happened? I jump up, but that makes me dizzy, and I sink back to a seat.
Right. The gate. The mares. I remember it now. Slowly I pull myself to my feet, ignoring the bright spots dancing in front of my eyes. I gotta help. I gotta find them.
My body feels weird as I hurry out on the yard. My headache has only gotten worse - with every step, a sharp pain shoots through my temples, and my legs won’t cooperate either. Ouch, that was the doorframe. Classic, Summer.
I arrive just in time to watch the riders return. The mares have been found - Ryan was right, they don’t seem to have gotten very far, and it looks like they stayed together for the most part. As they’re being driven into one of the paddocks, I hurry to count them. Sense, Missy, Naira... good, that’s thirteen mares safely behind the fence - but where's Blue, where's Blue?
---There's Blue.
Kent is holding her - he’s tied a lead rope around her neck and keeps her close to his own mount. The painted grey is familiar - it’s Charger he’s sitting on. I remember; I’ve taken the grey out of his stall, before... As Kent looks at me, I stop dead in my tracks.
Wordlessly, he dismounts. I feel my stomach sinking, and a strange uneasiness falls over me. But I clench my fists: I won’t let that get the better of me now. “Thanks,” I eventually say with a thin voice, and after a second of hesitation, step forward to grab Charger’s reins and Blue's lead rope. But he doesn’t let them go.
“I’ll bring them back to the barn,” he says with a strained smile, then quickly adds, “Don't worry. Get some rest, I think you need it.”
I shake my head. “I still have… four horses to-”
“Please.” His voice is silent, but firm.
I let go of the ropes, but cross my arms instead. “I know what I’m doing,” I determine, surprised about the sharpness in my own voice but also not ready to step down and give in. I expect a comeback, but Kent says nothing. He looks away - shrugs - nods - then leads my horses away. I stay behind, puzzled as can be.
~~~
Jim says he’ll be coming to AVRRA next Monday.
It's been a few days since the Great Escape. For some reason, I’ve been steadily getting assigned less horses since then... but I’m the last person to complain about that; if anything, I am enjoying the extensive lunchbreak and the early quitting-time that this results in. With that and my boyfriend announcing his upcoming arrival, I’m once again able to ponder the HCL finals, and my showing plans for the rest of the season. I’ve got my calendar laid out in front of me, but for the life of me can’t figure out how to fit all of that into the few weeks and weekends left in 2018.
And yet… the longer I think about the finals, the less certain I am about them.
At least Jim was able to calm my concerns about Pippin. No need to panic, hey says, the board is fully paid, and he’s personally made sure that his sister was giving him the best possible training. Janet, too, reports he’s feeling swell in boot camp, though he’s wreaking havoc daily. I smile to myself: that sounds like my feisty little colt, so he can’t be too miserable at the new place. But so it’s set: we’ll stick to our plan and I’ll get my youngster back in the new year, in time for preparation for his 6-year-season. Reassured, I’m now able to go back to my day work with some weight taken off my shoulders.
When suddenly, it’s Monday, and I’m leading Jim across the property to show him around.
“...Here, that’s my mare Blueberry,” I say as we enter the barn where my special little bay is stabled. I catch myself trying to see the place through his eyes - and realize what a familiar, comfortable, homely place it’s become to me throughout the years of working here. The adobe walls with the big arches that let in so much light, the rural stable walls, the fact that it’s never completely silent in here…
Jim holds his hand out for Blueberry to smell at, but the mare isn’t particularly interested in him. Ears to the side, she turns her shoulder towards us. I rattle on. “I owe her a lot,” I say, not even trying to hide the pride in my voice. “She injured a ligament last December, so she’s been on a long break. I didn’t have time to really bring her back, so I bred her. She’s due in March.”
“Which stallion?”
“YFS Hennessy, by Absint -”
He squints. “What's her breeding?”
“She’s by Buchanan, out of a Timotheus dam. Thunderbird line.”
“Mmh. Yeah, I know the line. Seems a little long in her back and neck?”
“I know,” I snap, a little impatient as he enters her stall. Do I look like I don’t know what I’m doing? “I trust he’ll level that out. I expect a lot from that foal.”
Jim doesn’t reply. He’s preoccupied; he looks her over, feels her back, palpates her legs. “She’s super thin though,” he determines. “...You going for a jumper foal?”
In the meantime Blue has decided she doesn’t want any of his - she swings her head around with bared teeth and ears pressed to her head. “Ow!” I hear Jim exclaim - he flinches and in the same motion, smacks Blue’s nose, who promptly throws her head in the air.
“Hey, let her be!” I reach out to my horse. “She just doesn’t know you,” I defend her. “And... of course she’s out of shape after such a long break.”
“Even in pregnancy, a mare should -”
“You don’t know how difficult it is to get any weight on her in the first place!”
“Aw, c’mon, that is no excuse.”
“Thank you very much, Mr Cros, if you know it so much better, here you go, the tack room is this way-” I stop dead, realizing what I’ve just said.
Jim looks at me, unblinking. “Wow,” he finally says. That’s all. Just “wow”.
I can’t force myself to feel bad, though. It’s strange - I realize how impatient I’ve become lately, how easily rubbed the wrong way by the most irrelevant remarks. Ever since Dresden, I’ve been… off. The familiar feeling of missing-out-on-something. Restlessness. I blame it on the stress.
Eventually, we leave the stable. Jim follows me with a little distance, neither of us saying anything. His brows are furrowed: I realize he’s a little cross with me. Having walked halfway over the yard to the pastures - the next stop on my barn tour - I break the silence again.
“Jim, why are you here?”
He doesn’t say anything at first.
“I was going to look at some of your saleshorses,” he murmurs - the obvious answer - but after a bit of consideration, adds, “and I thought I’d come help you prepare Caddy for the finals.”
I hesitate. I realize what I’m about to say, what my gut tells me. If it takes my body an entire shutdown to bring me to my senses, I won’t - can’t - refuse to listen to reason.
“I’m not going to start,” I eventually say.
For a moment, Jim looks surprised, then a lopsided smile appears on his lips. “Well, that makes two, then.”
“You’re not starting either?” Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “But why not - you’re individual leader!”
“No horse,” he shrugs. “I’m not going back to ride my father’s horses, if you were gonna ask. Nah.” He shakes his head, stubborn as a mule.
“You’d give up a potential good placing out of spite?!” I exclaim. In the same moment I rue my vehemence - that blasted dizziness is coming back. I’m reaching for my forehead, rub my temples.
Jim, on the other hand, looks way too satisfied with himself. “Yeah, so?” he nods, grinning down on me. Though, as he sees my face, his smile freezes a little. “Are you alright?” he says. ”You look a little pale.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I assure him. “I’ll just sit down for a moment.”
I sink onto the next best bucket - but as soon as I’ve sat down, I jump back to my feet. “Wait,” I exclaim. “This is perfect!”
“What is perfect?” Jim is puzzled.
“You go to the finals,” I grin. “With Caddy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I usually don't like to explain every motive and detail but this might be something easily missed: Summer calls Jim "Mr. Cros", which is how Peter is called by students and clinic attendees --- means, she basically put him on the same page as his current archenemy xD Kudos to Jim for handling it like he did...

Also oh my goodness yes! Blue will have a foal! Just noticed that I've never revealed it here before. xD The sire is by Mendokusee - now I'll hopefully be able to complete his breeding payment asap (: thanks for being so patient

AVRRA and its inhabitants (c) by WesternSpice
Art, written art, Sum mer, Jim and Blue (c) by me | reference for Blue [link] | background references [link] [link]