[html] Hemming was last x)
Hemming had little experience with horses, and Bayard's sheer strength impressed and exhilarated the wolf. They were not the most graceful pair, mostly by Hemming's fault, nor were they the fastest, but they at least seemed to be in the running. Though his eyes were fixed forward, as if turning them in any other direction would cause him to fall off, the wolf could see other contestants to his sides. He clung to the horse's strong neck, unsure of how exactly he should hold the beast, urging him forward with mutterings that surely the horse couldn't hear anyway.
The grin remained on his face as they crossed the finish line and the horse slowed. Blood pumped through Hemming's head and arms and legs with a vigor greater than it had done for years, and the excitement of the race left a humongous, perhaps comical, smile on the wolf's face. That was fun. The air seemed unnaturally still now that they had slowed down, and the wolf was beginning to realize that, along with being remarkably enjoyable, riding on a horse was rather painful. Still, the grin was unfaded as his excitement blocked out any of the pain that was zipping up from his thighs. It would surely hurt later, but now was not the time to give even a thought to future pains!
It seemed that the other horses were moving to the start line now that they had finished the race, and Bayard followed. Breathing slightly heavier than usual, Hemming regarded the stands, the sky, and the other racers with a smile. With a quiet "Nice job," to Bayard and a few friendly strokes of his neck, he wondered how he had missed out on such a sport for so long. All considerations of the actual standing outcome of the race was beyond him, for, in the long run, fun and camaraderie were perhaps the truly valuable results.
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