/is a slowbro
Word Count → 438
Hati could sense the deep bond between Alder and Hawthorn before they had even started speaking, and now that he was on horseback moving in tandem with the two of them, it was as though they had accepted him into their inner circle. He knew it was only temporary, and they trusted each other far more then either could individually trust him, but... it was still a glimpse into their world. Hati wanted it for himself more than ever now; he wanted to find his own 'Thorn, a wise and loyal companion who did not need words to express the connection between them. He was an introverted youth, one who did not make friends easily because of his quiet and serious nature. There weren't others his age in the kingdom, and those older than him were intimidating in their superior knowledge and rank. It was an awkward phase he had entered into, wanting to be seen as an adult himself but too young to look like one just yet. But horses didn't care about all that. They were blind to the self-conscious insecurities of a young male who just wanted them to like him back.
They moved placidly away from the barn, past the sunny paddocks in the field, and out to the abandoned racetrack. Hati knew it was rarely used for its intended purpose, if ever, but it did seem like a nice even ground for riding. Alder gathered the reins in his charcoal fingers, causing Hati to tense up, stiffening his shoulders. What would come next? At the clicking signal, the stallion showed him the next phase -- hooves thudding against the dusty ground, the rising and falling of their rhythmic pace gaining speed. There was a bump with every downbeat, a pulse in Hawthorn's percussive cadence. Hati leaned back against Alder's broad chest, afraid if he did not have the support behind him, the rhythm would send him sliding right off into the dirt.
"Marshall Alder, if... I wanted to be a stablehand, what would I have to do?" He asked suddenly, peering back over his shoulder. He could be helpful, couldn't he? He didn't want to spend all of his time merely watching from the sidelines anymore. In exchange for Alder's lesson, he would gladly groom the horses, muck out the stables, carry hay bales, whatever menial task was required of him. He would just have to be shown how to do all of those things, because he was utterly inexperienced. Maybe someday he would be rewarded with the ability to ride on his own. He swallowed nervously, twisting his fingers in Hawthorn's mane.
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